A/N: Don't forget to read Chapter 6 first!!

Chapter 7 – Who We've Become

February 17, 2001

Max happily spent the morning at Wal-mart.  Buffy and Logan didn't have nearly as much fun, since neither much liked party shopping.  Logan did enjoy the smile on Max's face for a change, since she was able to lose herself for a few minutes and ignore where they were.  After they finished up shopping, they dropped off their purchases at home and headed over to the Magic Box for a few hours of research.

All of Buffy's friends had shown up, but whether any of them were doing research on Max and Logan's predicament was highly debatable. 

"Why don't I help for a while?" Dawn offered. 

"No," Buffy replied testily.

"Please?"

"No!"

"Why not?" Dawn pouted.

Buffy narrowed her eyes at her sister.  "Because those books are like sixty times older than you.  NO!"

Max snorted under her breath.  Whatever that was supposed to mean, she thought, rolling her eyes.

Logan looked up and saw Max moving around in the upper level of the shop.  She really seems to like it up there.  Never can never stay grounded, can she? he thought to himself as he flipped through the pages of a red leather covered volume.  He stopped as he came to a rather… unique wood-cut drawing.  He whistled low under his breath and he tilted his head slowly to the left to improve his view.

"One of the perks of research," Buffy said, smiling.

Logan looked up quickly, desperately hoping his flushed cheeks weren't too obvious.  He smiled ruefully.  "Let's just say that I am getting an education here."

On the balcony, Max set a book back on the shelf with a sigh of exasperation.  She ran a hand through her hair, trying to figure out why she even bothered with the research.  It's not like I even have a clue what the dealio with all this is.  Besides, Giles has some chief witch or watcher or whatever looking into this for us.  But Max knew she couldn't leave this alone for someone else to take care of.  Her lips twisted into a wry grimace.  Actually, can't really leave anything alone, can I?  She reached towards another book on the shelf.  Her fingers touched the leathery binding – and stopped.  She frowned as her hand would not bend to grasp the book.  With a chilled sense of foreboding, she tried again.  The  ancient volume stubbornly evaded her grip.  She watched as her fingers straightened with a quick jerk and a small spasm ran through her hand, then she paled as the uncooperative digits assumed a clawed position as they began to tremble.

Max's heart thudded with growing dread.  No.  Please… not here. 

Xander looked at Buffy and a red-faced Logan, both of whom were laughing uncontrollably.  "If you'll bookmark that page for me later, Logan, why don't we all run and get some lunch?"

"And that was a non sequitur if I've ever heard one," Buffy said sarcastically.  "But a great idea."  She stood and hollered over her shoulder to the rest of the shop, "Lunch!"

In response to her clarion call to grub, a tidal wave of people pushed its way toward the front door of the shop.  As Anya turned to lock up behind the stragglers, Dawn grabbed her hand.  "Wait!  Max isn't here."

Logan blinked in surprise as he looked at the group.  Sure enough, Dawn was right.  Everyone had made it out but Max.  "She was upstairs.  She must have heard Buffy call for lunch."

"Undoubtedly," Giles muttered, rubbing his temple.

"She was probably just really into a book or something.  I'll go get her," Dawn volunteered as she scampered back inside.

The echo of the bell's happy chime hung for a moment in the silence of the shop before dying away.  Dawn glanced around, slightly unnerved by the complete stillness.  Her eyes settled on the railing where Max usually sat, but it was empty.  Dawn's heart skipped a beat as the image of her friend stumbling the day before flitted through her mind.  She walked deliberately over to the stairs and began to climb.

Max had scrunched herself as far as she could into a corner of the shelves.  Her legs were pulled up close to her chest, and her head rested on her knees.  Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, but even so, Dawn could see them shaking.

She rushed over and knelt in front of Max.  "Oh, my God!  What's wrong?"

Max lifted her head.  "Dawn, please.  Just… go."  She raised her hands to shield herself, but her arms began to shake harder. 

"Maybe I can help—"

"No!" Max barked.  She gripped Dawn's arms as the shaking increased until it seemed as though she would shake apart at the shoulders.  Her vision started to blur.  Jondy's face came into focus for a moment before Dawn's reappeared.  Her grip tightened.

Dawn winced.  "Max – ow!.  Let go, that hurts!"

Max's arms shook even harder as her fingers seemed to anchor themselves in place.  "Let me go," Max repeated.

Dawn's face contorted in pain.  If she hadn't already been kneeling, her legs might have given out on her.  "Stop… let go!"

Max blinked hard as the young girl's face seemed to glow.  Some part of Max's brain that was still coherent wondered, Since when does Dawn glow green?  Her fingernails dug into the other girl's arms.  "Let me go!" she echoed.

Dawn couldn't help herself.  She cried out in pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Outside, Buffy stood with the others, wondering what could be taking them so long.  She turned to Logan.  "Dawn probably started talking Max's ear off and forgot what she went to get her for."  She waved an arm at everyone as she grabbed the keys out of Anya's hands and clasped the doorknob.  "Why don't you all go on?  We'll catch up."

"Tell Max we won't save any pizza for her if she doesn't hurry," Logan said as he turned with the rest of the group.

Buffy walked into the shop.  There was no sign of either girl.  "Dawn?  Max?" she called, with no reply.  The she heard muffled voices from the balcony.  She wasn't even halfway to the foot of the stairs when she heard her little sister's cry.  "Dawn!" 

Her first running leap carried her two-thirds of the way up the metal steps.  She landed with her hands gripping the top of the rails, and vaulted herself the rest of the way up, to hit the floor already racing to her sister's side.  She skidded to a stop and knelt beside Max and Dawn.  Max's arms were shaking violently and she had a death grip on Dawn.  Buffy saw Max look at Dawn and blink her eyes as if in confusion. 

"Let me go!" Max shouted.  She closed her eyes tight and gave her head a quick shake, as though to clear the images from it.  But when her eyes opened on Dawn, she squinted as if staring right into the sun, and looked away towards the darkness of the corner.

Dawn tried not to whimper as she said, "Max, I can't.  You're the one holding me."

Max's head slowly turned to look at Buffy, and she could see her own fear reflected in the blonde girl's eyes.  "Buffy, help, please," she whispered.

Buffy put her hands over Max's and pulled at her fingers, surprised at the strength of the grip.  When she had managed to loosen her grasp enough, Dawn jerked and fell backwards, sitting hard.

Buffy turned back to Max, who had withdrawn even further into her corner.  "Dawn, go downstairs."  When Dawn began to protest, she snapped, "Now!"

"No!"  Buffy's focus was broken from Max for a moment to Dawn, who had braced herself for the impending objection.  When Buffy opened her mouth, Dawn interrupted.  "I'm not going.  Let me help."

One battle at a time.  Buffy turned back to Max.  "What's happening to you?"

Max shook her head.  "My pocket," she said quietly, as Buffy's words began to pull her scattered thoughts back together.

Buffy's brows knit in confusion.  "Your pocket?"  As Max attempted to gesture to the left pocket of her jacket with a trembling hand, Buffy understood what Max wanted her to do.  She reached into Max's pocket and pulled out a wad of cash.

Seeing Buffy stare blankly at the money, Max said, "Milk… please."

Buffy, to her credit, didn't ask any more questions.  She just shoved the money at Dawn and barked, "Milk.  Go, quick!"  Dawn ran down the stairs and out the door.  When Buffy heard the bell stop chiming, she turned back to Max.

Max forestalled the question.  "Just my hands," she said raising the shaking appendages.

Buffy swallowed slightly.  Unless Max considered everything under her shoulders her hands… "Looks like your arms, too."

Max shrugged her shoulders, the movement almost lost among the trembles.  "Whatever."  She looked at her hands and glared at them slightly, as if the sheer force of her will could grant her power over this insidious weakness.

"Milk will help?" Buffy asked.

"Yeah.  It will," Max said with a definitive tone in her voice.  She looked up at Buffy with an odd light in her eyes.  "What did you do before you became the  Slayer?"

Buffy blinked, nonplussed.  "Well, I was just… a girl.  Went to school, hung with friends, teased my sister.  You know.  Kid stuff."

"Kid stuff," Max repeated with a barely audible sigh.  "What did you like to do?"

"What did I like to do?"  Buffy was beginning to think that Max was becoming delirious.  "I don't know.  Ice skate?  I did ice skate a lot.  And I was a cheerleader at one point in time."

"You know, I can see you as a cheerleader."  Max grinned at the irony in the statement.

"Well, wow, Maxie, like, I don't know why, like, you'd think that."  Buffy couldn't help but relax a bit as Max laughed.  They both turned as the bell clattered brightly through the shop.  "Dawn's back."

"You think?"

Feet pounded up the stairs.  Dawn appeared, breathing heavily.  She was carrying two large cartons of milk.  "I wasn't sure… what kind… so I—"

"Doesn't matter," Max told her.

She opened one of the cartons and handed it to Buffy, who wrapped Max's fingers around it for her.  Max drank the milk greedily, trying not to spill or splash it down her face.  One humiliation was enough for any day.  She took a gasping breaths between gulps as she finished off the carton.  "Thanks," Max nodded to Dawn.

"Sure," Dawn said timidly.  She couldn't help but stare as the trembling in Max's arms and hands slowly decreased until it completely stopped.

Max flexed her fingers one by one, to make sure everything was in working order.  She ignored the looks of the Summers girls as she shook out her wrists and elbows and rolled her shoulders.  Then she moved to stand, shrugging off Buffy's assistance.  "I'm okay.  We can go now.  I heard something about lunch?"

Buffy's eyes narrowed as Dawn's widened.  "Wait a minute.  What just happened here?"

"Nothing," Max stated as she stretched out a kink from her neck.  She felt a little shaky on her feet, but the more she moved, the better she began to feel.  She ignored Dawn and Buffy as she brushed by them to back down the stairs. 

The sisters looked at each other and moved quickly to the top of the stairs, looking down at Max who had quickly reached the bottom.  "Seemed like a whole lot of something to me," Buffy commented.

Max turned her back on them and repeated sharply, "It was nothing."  She pulled open the door and stepped outside.

"We'd better catch up," Dawn said slowly. 

Max arrived at the Pizza Parlor ahead of Dawn and Buffy.  They walked in as Max was taking a seat and as Logan was asking her, "What took you so long?"

Before Max could reply, Dawn exclaimed, "My jacket!"  Every eye at the table was suddenly fastened on her, and she shifted uncomfortably.  "I… uh, I forgot my jacket.  So Max was helping me look for it."

"So… where is it?" Xander asked with a slight smirk, challenging the Dawn cover-up.

"She'd forgotten to even bring it," Buffy cut in smoothly, rolling her eyes.  "Then she'd forgotten that she'd forgotten.  I swear, Dawn, I don't know how you even make it through the day."

"Hey!  It's not like I do it all the time!"

"Oh, come on.  How about when—"

"How about you girls put that energy to eating pizza," Giles interrupted.

Max took a large slice herself.  Just as she brought it to her mouth, she looked between Buffy and Dawn.  She mouthed the words 'thank you.'

Buffy and Dawn looked at each other and smiled, their earlier concern beginning to fade.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


February 18, 2001

The sky was a perfect,  clear blue.  The kind of sky only seen in movies where "happily ever after" reigns.  Max couldn't help but sit and be… content.  For one day, she wasn't being hunted or tracked.  She didn't have to be cautious.  Today, she was at an old-fashioned Sunday picnic.

She stepped away from the window and made her way downstairs to the kitchen… and found herself immersed in pure chaos.

Max stopped and stared at the herd of people crammed into the small room.  She took a quick head count, and saw that there was no one there other than the people she had met over the past week – and Logan – but the close proximity made nine people seem like ninety.

Joyce looked up from pouring drinks and saw Max standing in the doorway, looking slightly unsure of herself.  An idea flitted across her mind and she leaned down and whispered something in her youngest daughter's ear.  Dawn grinned and, pushing herself through the crowd, went out in the garage.

"Max!" Willow called out, smiling broadly in greeting.

"Hey, Max.  How ya doin'?" Xander asked.

Anya walked over and put her hand in his, eyeing Max suspiciously.

Max saw the movement and smiled sweetly, if only to torture the blonde woman.  "I'm doing well.  And you?" she purred.

Xander swallowed as Anya moved her arm to link elbows with him and pull him out the back door.  Giles followed them out with a plate of uncooked steaks, chicken, and hamburgers, shaking his head.

Logan looked at Max.  "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Max asked innocently, going outside with the rest of the group.  She paused as she noticed the ramp that hadn't been there the night before.  "When did this get put down?" she asked.

Logan grinned impishly at her.  "Maybe if you hadn't taken over an hour in the shower, you'd have known about it."

Max eyed him darkly and was about to comment, when suddenly a blue disk was obstructing her vision.  She pushed the object away, and saw Dawn's smiling face behind it.

"Ready to play?" Dawn asked.

Max blinked and looked back at Joyce, who was watching Xander and Giles fuss over the grill.  Narrowing her eyes, Max began to get an idea of what Joyce had whispered to Dawn.  Max turned back to the girl and repeated, "Play?"

Dawn rolled her eyes.  "Yes, play.  Something commonly done at picnics." She paused as a thought occurred to her.  "You have seen a Frisbee before, haven't you?"  she asked, waving the disc a little.

Max tilted her chin haughtily as she said in an indignant tone, "Of course I've seen a Frisbee.  Sketchy had a Frisbee."

"Sketchy?"

"A friend."

Dawn grinned.  "Sketchy.  Okay.  Well, so you've seen a Frisbee.  That's a start, at least.  Now, have you ever played Frisbee?"

Max swore every pair of eyes in the backyard were locked on her, waiting for her answer.  She would have killed for a hole to open underneath her right about then.  Anything to take away from her self-consciousness.  She crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged.  "So what if I haven't?"  Yeah, a hole might be nice right about now. Then again, a meteor would be good, too.  And so much classier.

Dawn, for her part, was sensitive enough to Max's feelings that she didn't acknowledge the discomfort.  "Well, if you haven't, then I'll teach you."  She picked up Max's right hand to place the Frisbee in it, but stopped and asked, "Right or left?"

Max looked at Dawn, puzzled.  "Does it matter?"

Dawn opened her mouth and closed it again, puzzled herself.  "I guess not… if you can use both.  But since I can't… you'll be right-handed today," she declared.

Max laughed in spite of herself.  "Most days I am right-handed, I guess.  Just never really thought of it.  Always used whichever was convenient."

Dawn manipulated Max's fingers easily, folding them into a good position around the Frisbee's edge.  She stepped back and made a throwing motion with her wrist.  "Go ahead."

Max looked down at the Frisbee and repeated the motion, throwing it lightly.

The Frisbee only flew about three feet before turning sideways in the air and doing a mean nosedive towards the ground.

Dawn looked at Max sympathetically before walking over to pick up the Frisbee.  "That's okay.  It usually takes a while to get the hang of it."  She quickly jogged towards the back fence and called, "Like this!"  She threw the Frisbee in a perfect line to Max, who caught it easily.  Dawn grinned, "You caught it!  Good job!"

Buffy called out, "She's not a two year old or a terrier, Dawn!" 

Max just shook her head and dropped the Frisbee at her feet.  She stripped off her jacket, leaving only the white t-shirt that she wore underneath.  She picked up the Frisbee and said, "Alright, now I'm going to beat this bitch."

Sure enough, she did get the hang of it, after about a dozen more throws.  Max was a bit frustrated that it took that long, but blamed it on the unstable aerodynamics of the Frisbee itself, rather than her own lack of skill.

Logan watched Max with a soft smile on his face as she threw the disk with only a hint of wobble.  She looked so proud to have mastered something as simple as throwing a Frisbee, but Logan knew that it was more than that.  This smooth flight of a simple, blue plastic disk was another step towards normalcy for her.  Standing in the grass of the backyard with the sun shining on her hair, illuminating the red highlights in it like fire, she looked truly carefree…

"She's finally beginning to relax, isn't she," Joyce stated from a seat next to him.

Logan turned his chair so he wouldn't have to crane his neck to look at her.  "She finally is," he agreed.  "I'd honestly never thought it would happen.  But here she is… playing Frisbee."  Joyce laughed in agreement and they both watched Dawn and Max for a few minutes, Giles and Xander chatting quietly behind them at the grill.

"Joyce, thank you for this.  For all of this," Logan said quietly.  "Taking in a pair of strangers, letting them stay for more than a week, even though you know they haven't always been as truthful as they've purported to be…"

Joyce waved him off.  "No thanks necessary.  I've enjoyed having you here.  It's just going to be hard to let you go, knowing what you'll have to go back to."  At Logan's wary look, she shook her head.  "Buffy and Giles and the others have concerns that don't let them think much beyond tomorrow.  I, however, can take the time to think on other things and their meanings."  She smiled as she watched Dawn test Max by throwing the Frisbee a little higher each time.  Max was keeping up, of course, her feet leaving the ground a little more with each jump.  "Like the future... or the meaning of a chimera learning how to play Frisbee."

Joyce glanced back towards the grill as the conversation there seemed to heat up.  She frowned and asked, "Do you happen to know why Anya is draped all over Xander?"

Logan looked at the couple and saw that Anya couldn't have gotten any closer to Xander if they were sharing the same clothes.  "Oh, that.  Unfortunately, that's partly Max's fault.  Max and Anya really don't… get along… well.  At all.  Ever.  So, Anya treats Max like a common criminal and Max terrorizes Anya every chance she gets.  Personally, I think the only way those two could ever make peace is for one or both of them to stop breathing.  Permanently."

Joyce laughed as she saw Max stretch and scratch her shoulder, a simple move which seemed to take on a sensuous tone.  A quick glance at Anya and Joyce saw the blonde's right eye twitching as she clutched closer to Xander, apparently trying to crawl into his skin.  "Doesn't Anya realize that Max is taken?"

"Taken?  By who?" Logan asked blankly.  Then he caught the wicked look in Joyce's eyes.  "Now who's terrorizing who?  Seriously, we're—"

"Just friends.  Right."  Joyce laughed again to herself as she caught the hint of a flush on Logan's face as he glanced back at Max.

Luckily, Logan was saved from responding by Buffy, Tara, and Willow coming out of the house.  "Mom,"  Buffy called.  "We're out of soda."

Joyce blinked.  "We are?  How did that happen?"

"Well, we didn't pick up any at Wal-mart because I figured we had some left over from my birthday.  But it turns out we drank most of it.  All we have left is a gallon of milk and half a jug of orange juice,"  Buffy said.  "And water.  You know, healthy junk."

Joyce sighed and moved to stand.  "I guess I'll make a quick run to the store.  Knowing how you kids party, we'll need a lot."

Buffy shook her head.  "No, don't get up.  You stay and rest.  Enjoy the party.  Xander'll take me.  Right, Xander?"

Xander looked up from the grill at the sound of his name.  "Huh?  What am I doing?"

"Taking me to the store," Buffy said.  "Get your keys."

"Right-o."  Xander reached into his pocket.  "Got 'em right here.  Logan, cover me at the grill, would you?"

"No problem," Logan said as he unlocked his brakes and moved towards the grill.

Buffy smiled and called, "See you guys later!  We'll be back in a jiff."

"Bye!" Dawn called back, throwing the Frisbee.

The Frisbee seemed to go wild – a high, fast throw completely across the yard from Max.

Not one to let a throw go by, Max sped across the yard.  She jumped, using the deck rail as a springboard to further propel herself upward.  She caught the Frisbee mid-leap and flipped,  landing gently on the deck.  She turned to look at Buffy, who was drop-jawed with everyone else, and said a cheerful, "Catch ya later!" before jumping again, easily clearing the rail.

Dawn was too busy grinning at Max's acrobatics to notice the Frisbee arcing in her direction.  She yelped as it went sailing over her head, and went chasing after it.

"Did you see that?!" Xander whispered to Buffy, who was attempting to steer him towards the front of the house.

"Yeah, I saw," she said.  "And so did Anya.  So you'd better stop looking."

A few minutes later, Logan went inside the house to look for a barbecue fork, since the meat was nearly done.  Max and Dawn continued their game of Frisbee in an increasingly competitive fashion.

Max looked up to the sky after a short catch that brought her to the middle of the yard.  The sun seemed to be getting brighter.  Confused, she looked at Dawn… who was wreathed in the faintest fluorescent green aura.  She suddenly knew what was about to happen, and, when she fearfully looked down at the Frisbee, saw it was shaking in her hand.  Shaking because of her hand.

Dawn looked at Max, concerned when the young woman stopped and stared at her before looking down at her hand.  Following her gaze, Dawn could see that the shaking from the day before had returned.  She watched the Frisbee slowly slip from Max's grasp and fall softly to the ground.  Dawn's eyes met Max's, and she could see the panic flash in her face.  "Max?" she questioned.

Max continued to stare at Dawn as she realized that she wasn't going to be able to pass this one off as 'shaky hands.'  She turned, but only made it a single step before she felt the seizure crash over her like a giant wave and spread through her entire body.  As she shook, she collapsed.

"Max!" Dawn screamed, as she saw her friend fall.  The girl ran and dropped to her knees at Max's side.  "Max!  Please… what's happening?"

Max's eyes fixed themselves upon Dawn, but she didn't respond… merely shook harder.

Giles, Tara, Willow, Anya, and Joyce all heard Dawn's scream, and their heads snapped towards the girl, as they watched her run to Max.  They all leaped from their seats and ran out into the yard, clustering around the fallen pair.  "Logan!" Joyce yelled towards the house as she ran with the group.

Giles kneeled with Dawn.  "Dawn, please move back," he asked as he bent over Max's trembling form.  He grabbed hold of Max's shoulders and tried to shift her out of the fetal position she had curled into.

"Watch her tongue!"  Willow exclaimed.  "Maybe... maybe we should be careful and not let her swallow her tongue!" 

"Oh, no, go ahead, let her swallow it," Anya piped up cheerfully.

Willow shot her an uncompromising glare, then turned to Tara.  "Sweetie… I'm right, right?  Don't let her swallow her tongue?"

Tara patted Willow on the shoulder, while watching Giles speak to Max.  "Let Mr. Giles take care of it.  He'll let us know what to do."

Giles held Max's face in both of his hands, trying to focus her attention.  "Max.  Can you hear me?"

Max nodded through the shaking, but didn't trust herself to speak.

Logan came out of the house, holding the barbecue fork and smiling, ready to make a comment on Giles' cooking ability.  The smile fell away when he saw the crowd in the middle of the yard and Max on the ground.  He quickly pushed himself down the ramp and through the group until he was by Max's side, leaning down to lay a hand gently on her face.  "Max," he said forcefully, drawing her attention away from Giles.  "Where is your tryp—" he stopped, as a memory from when they had first arrived flashed through his mind.

Max reached into the pockets of her leather jacket and started pulling out the contents: a set of keys, a small tube of cherry lip balm, a couple lock picks, and a small wad of cash all clattered to the table top.

Logan closed his eyes in horrified realization.  The one thing he should have seen… wasn't there.  And he never even thought to question its absence.  "That's what all that money was for, wasn't it," he said softly.

Max tried to take a deep breath, but the shaking turned it into a sharp gasp.  "I didn't w-want you to kn-know," she managed.  Her eyes drifted shut.

Logan looked up at Dawn.  "Can you get some—"

"Milk.  Right," Dawn said as she stood and ran into the house.

Logan didn't stop to ponder how the girl knew what to do.  Instead, he looked at Joyce and asked, "Do you know any place we can get tryptophan?"

Perplexed, Joyce shook her head.  "Tryptophan?"

Logan silently cursed this world they had found themselves in, where Wal-mart would sell you thirty-six different varieties of toothpaste, but didn't carry tryptophan. 

"Maybe we should call 911," Tara suggested timidly.

"We can't."  Logan shook his head to stop the objection.  "She just… we can't."  He turned to Giles.  "Help me get her inside."

The shaking began to decrease, and Max felt a pair of hands slide underneath her and gently lift her off the ground.  She opened her eyes to see Giles once again.

As Giles settled Max in his arms and moved towards the house, he marveled at how light she was.  Not that he would have expected her to be heavy, but rather... to have more of a presence.  The girl who had stood so straight and sturdy… was now a mere shivering child in his grasp.  Then he felt her stir. 

"I can walk," she murmured weakly, fighting the new waves of tremors that threatened to engulf her.

Giles couldn't help but laugh softly at her resolve, even then.  "Silly girl, I've already got you.  You can stop being so stubborn for now.  Just let go."  The laughter faded quickly as he felt a small hand clutch at his shoulder.  Max laid her head against his chest as another seizure ripped through her body.

Logan watched Max's quaking increasing again.  He quelled the rising guilt he felt as he looked at Giles and said, "Can you take her upstairs?  Put her in Dawn's bed, maybe?"  Giles nodded and carried Max up the stairs, careful to keep his grip light but firm.

Dawn appeared holding a large glass of milk.  "You're just going to leave her?" Dawn asked Logan accusingly.

"Who said I was staying down here?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander pulled his car up to the curb in front of the Summers' house.  "We can go right around through the side gate," he said to Buffy, "for immediate partyage."

Buffy rolled her eyes as she picked up a couple liters of soda.  "Right.  Because the entire 20 seconds it would take us to go through the house to get to the backyard is just too long to wait."

Xander smiled at her as he grabbed the bag of ice they'd decided to get.  "Exactly.  20 seconds – too long.  We're still trying to work our way up from shindig to hootenanny.  20 seconds could be the deciding factor."

They stopped at the gate, Buffy laughing slightly.  "Let's be careful.  Might get decapitated with a Frisbee."  She slowly pushed it open and looked around its edge.  "Xander," she said sharply, throwing open the gate.

Xander looked over her shoulder and saw that the yard was deserted.  "Whoa."

"Where is everybody?" she asked, moving into the yard.

"Aw, geez!" Xander shouted, running over to the grill.  He lifted the lid and watched as a black billow of smoke rose into the air.  Coughing and waving a hand in front of his face, he reached down to turn off the gas and grimaced as he surveyed the charred contents.  "Anyone place an order for well done?" he quipped smartly.

Buffy looked up from the abandoned Frisbee in the middle of the yard, a worried expression on her face.  "Hello!  Where did everybody go?" she called, striding briskly past Xander into the house.  She flung open the door leading into the kitchen.  "Mom?  Dawn?" she yelled, a cold fear starting to grow.  She moved into the living room and saw her mother laying on the couch.  "Mom!"

Joyce opened her eyes and she sat up.  "Oh, Buffy!  You're back," she said.

Buffy gestured around the empty room.  "Where is everybody?"

Joyce rubbed her forehead as she answered, "Rupert and the girls decided to leave.  Dawn, Max, and Logan are upstairs."

"Oh."  She nodded…  then blinked, and frowned.  Wait a minute… "Logan's upstairs?"

Joyce sighed as her mind focused and realized that Buffy and Xander had been gone during the crisis.  "We had… a bit of a problem while you two were gone," she began.

Xander nodded.  "Kinda figured that by the lumps of carbon out on the grill."

Joyce's eyes widened.  "We completely forgot!  My God, we could have set something on fire!  What if—"

"Mom," Buffy interrupted.  "Is Dawn okay?"

"Dawn's fine," she responded.  "It's Max."

Buffy and Xander shared a look.  "Max?" Xander repeated.

Joyce stood slowly, stretching tired muscles.  "Max had a seizure.  She was fine and then she was… shaking."

"That's what that was – yesterday," Buffy said quietly.  "A seizure?"

Joyce's eyes widened.  "You knew about this?"

Buffy sighed.  "Her arms were shaking.  But… it went away.  And she made it seem like it was nothing."

"Well, unfortunately, it's not nothing anymore."

Xander cleared his throat.  "Can I do anything?" he asked.

Joyce shook her head.  "Thanks, Xander, but… I don't think so.  Everyone else left because really… there's nothing we can do right now."

Xander nodded.  "I guess… I'll just go try to find Anya."

Buffy and Joyce looked at each other for a few quiet seconds after Xander left.  Finally, Buffy broke the eye contact, her eyes darting towards the stairs.

Joyce smiled.  "I'm sure she'd like to see you."

"Maybe… I'll go see if they need anything." 

"While you're up there, why don't you try to get Dawn away for a bit?  Give Max some peace and quiet."

Buffy placed one foot reluctantly on the bottom step.  It's not that hard, Buffy.  You've been doing  this walking thing for, like, ever.  One foot in front of the other.   Funny… she'd battled hordes of demons, vampires, and other creepy crawlies and never batted an eyelash.  But climbing one set of stairs to face one sick girl made her want to run and hide. 

Giving herself a little shake, she forced herself to climb the rest of the way up.  She heard laughter as she reached the top of the stairs and followed the sound into the doorway of Dawn's room.  The lights were off, but the curtains were drawn to allow sunlight to brighten the room.  Dawn perched near the foot of the bed, jabbering something about zombies.  Logan was parked to the side of the bed, holding Max's hand and gently stroking her face with the other.  A small part of Buffy's mind couldn't help but marvel at the irony in this situation.  Why does it always seem to take some kind of life or death scenario to get two people to admit how they feel about each other?

Max laughed softly as Dawn continued her story.  She looked almost content, even as her body broke the stillness with the occasional jerk.

"And then she shoved the shovel… straight through her eyes!  It made the grossest noise," Dawn continued.

"Hey, it got the job done, didn't it?" Buffy commented mildly, making her presence known.  Max lifted her head as Buffy entered the room.  She made a move to rise, which Buffy waved off.  "How're you feeling?"

Max smiled wryly as another small shiver ran through her body.  "A little punk, but okay, thanks to the better half of a cow," she said, indicating an empty glass of milk on the nightstand.  "Four of those and I'm as good as new."

Buffy frowned.  "Maybe you should go to the hospital or someth—"

"No," Max and Logan said in emphatic unison.  They looked at each other for a silent instant, obviously debating what needed to be said.

Logan finally took the lead.  "It's too dangerous for Max to be at a hospital.  A doctor gets curious as to why tests results are coming out strange, does a little investigating.  Manticore catches wind…"

"And I'm dead," Max said.

Logan clarified.  "Manticore was desperate to find her before.  But if they find out there is a full grown X5 out in the world…"

"They're going to have the world's biggest mad-on to get me.  Just gotta try to ride this thing out.  If I really need to, I'll go.  Logan knows when that is, but until then…"  She smiled at Logan.  "Guess you'll have to put up with 'Sweet Max' for a while."

He laughed at the reminder, and stroked her hair again.  "To tell you the truth, I'd rather put up with the bitch I know…"

When Dawn giggled at the two of them, Buffy was reminded of the other reason she had come up there.  "Dawn?  Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Dawn nodded and stepped out into the hall with Buffy.  "What's up?"

"How's she – really?" Buffy asked quietly, trying not to draw the attention of the pair that was only feet away.

"They told you—"

"You tell me."

Dawn sighed and looked back into the room.  "Not good.  It was scary, Buffy.  She totally collapsed and…" she stopped and shook her head.  "I can't explain it.  But I hope you never have to see it for yourself."

"I hope so, too."  Buffy and Dawn watched the displaced pair for a few seconds.  As Buffy saw Max's eyes drooping more and more, she laid a hand on Dawn's arm and said, "Come on.  Why don't you come downstairs with me for a while – give them some peace?"

Before Dawn could reply, Max's eyes sprang open completely and she rolled onto her side, pushing herself up.  Her arms trembled with the effort of holding her body weight up, and she began to shake again.  "No!  She can – she can stay."  Max finally gave up the fight and dropped back onto the bed.  "It's okay, Buffy.  She's no problem.  I'd – I'd like her to stay."

Buffy relented, and stepped back into the room with Dawn.  "If it's okay with you, then that's fine.  But Dawn,"  she cautioned, turning sternly to her sister, "do not overstay your welcome.  The minute Max falls asleep, come find me."

Dawn nodded, and Buffy left the room.  As she got to the top of the stairs she heard Dawn ask, "So you were listening in on our conversation?"

Max replied, "Of course.  Why wouldn't I be?"

Buffy chuckled and shook her head as she descended the stairs.  "Smart ass even when she's sick," she mumbled.  She headed into the kitchen to salvage some lunch.

Dawn came down the stairs about ten minutes later.  "Buffy?" she called.

"Mmmhmnphmwwm," Buffy said around her sandwich.  She watched Dawn wander into the kitchen.  "Max asleep already?"

Dawn shook her head.  "Nope.  She's actually kind of wired, in a completely exhausted way.  Logan asked me to come get you."

Buffy blinked.  "He did?  Why?"

Dawn shifted uncomfortably.  "He, uh… he needs your help to get back down the stairs."

"Oh.  Right."

Dawn rushed to continue, "He figured that since I'll be there to keep an eye on Max, he can start making some phone calls and see if he can find some of the stuff that'll help her… some kind of medicine."

The two girls walked back towards the stairs.  Dawn paused in the front hall and asked, "They like each other, don't they?"

Buffy couldn't help but grin.  "Yeah, they do.  But I'm not sure if they know that yet."

A gleam appeared in Dawn's eyes.  "So… are we going to help them clue in?"

Buffy rolled her eyes and gave Dawn a small shove up the stairs.  "Let's worry about that later, shall we?"

Reentering Dawn's room, they saw Max lying with one hand over her eyes, as Logan pulled the shades and closed the curtains.  He turned to explain, "The light was starting to bother her."

"I think it's half the cause of my headache," Max muttered.  She uncovered her eyes and grinned cockily at Logan.  "The other half will be leaving shortly."

"Ha.  Ha.  Ha," Logan mocked, turning to wheel out of the room.

As Dawn resumed her place by the bed, Max's limbs jerked slightly, and she returned her hand to her eyes.  "Do you mind getting that other light?" she asked in a weak voice.

Logan turned back in the doorway.  Glancing around the room, he confirmed that all the windows were covered, and the ceiling light was off.  "Which other light?" he asked, frowning as he watched her body quiver again.

"The green one," she replied with a yawn.

Logan didn't notice Dawn's eyes meeting Buffy's in shock.  He sighed and told Max, "I'll see what I can do," before leaving.

Buffy almost missed his exit and caught up with him by the stairs.  Before she could say anything, Logan said, "I'm sorry about that.  That's a weird side effect of the seizures."

"What do you mean?"

"Max has told me that sometimes she has flashbacks when she has the seizures.  She probably thought that she was seeing a light, and it wasn't even there," he explained.

Buffy didn't say anything, but she knew that in this case, Max actually was seeing a "green light."  It was sitting by the bed, talking to her like a fourteen-year-old.

"So, do you think you'd be able to help me?" Logan asked, indicating first himself and then the stairs.

"Oh!" Buffy said, startled from her thoughts.  "Sure.  No problem.  What do you need?"  

"Just grab the chair," he replied, sliding off the seat and onto the floor.  He then began scooting himself down the stairs.

Only a few months ago "help" was such a foreign word.  I would have thrown my chair down these stairs, probably wrecking it in the process before asking someone to just carry it, Logan thought wryly.  How times have changed.  But even that memory drifted away as once more, his thoughts focused on Max.  "Could you give me Willow or Tara's phone number?" he asked Buffy as she gently set the chair down on the main floor.  He placed his hands on the seat and quickly pushed himself up and re-seated himself.

"Well, that's easy enough.  It's the same number," Buffy said.  "Why?  You think a spell might help Max?"

Logan shook his head adamantly as he pushed himself towards the kitchen.  "Absolutely not.  I think a spell would be the last thing that would help Max."

"Then—"

"I want to see if they can help me track down some tryptophan.  It's sometimes used in homeopathy, and I figured they may have a contact or two in that area."

"You might try asking Giles, too.  He always seems to have friends in strange places," she pointed out.

"Good idea."  Logan pulled the phone book from a desk drawer and began turning pages to see what he could find.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner was rather strained and subdued.  No one quite seemed to know what to say.  The shadows of the day still sat upon them all, as they waited for a sunrise that they knew would be long in coming.

"So… Dawn, do you have any big plans for school tomorrow?" Logan asked, trying to make conversation.  Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Max make a half-hearted attempt to eat her salad.

Dawn sighed.  "Yeah, the plan is to go, stay for a while, whittle some weapons in woodshop, maybe rid the world of all evil, avert an apocalypse or two.  You know, same old."

"Ah, those were the days," Buffy said wistfully.

"Do you want a ride home?" Joyce asked her daughter.

"Nope.  I'll just walk back.  Haven't done that in a while," Dawn said.

A sharp clink echoed through the dining room as Max dropped her fork.  She didn't even glance up as she said, "Sorry," and flexed her shaky fingers.  She picked up her glass of milk and took a quick drink.

"Besides that, no plans," Dawn finished weakly.

Buffy, Joyce, and Logan nodded, sharing a look that silently pleaded with each other to find something else to say.

"Shit!" Max hissed as she dropped her fork again.

Joyce looked at Max with concern.  "Are you okay?"

Max stared at her hand as it shook, and her shoulders slumped a little in resignation.  "I think I've lost my appetite.  I'm going to go lie down for a while."  She refused to look any of them in the eye as she gingerly got up from the table and walked out of the dining room.

Logan watched her walk out the door.  It was hard not to compare the beautiful goddess who had boldly stared down the barrel of his rifle so long ago with the hunched, pain-wracked creature who could barely hold up her head as she all but crawled from the room.  He stared blindly at the doorway where Max had disappeared.  Then his face hardened as he realized that he'd never heard her footsteps on the stairs.  He pushed back from the table and, ignoring the questioning looks from the Summers women, left the dining room. 

Max was sitting on the steps, leaning back against the bars of the banister as her body slowly rocked.  She looked up towards the head of the stairs with a vacant expression in her eyes.  Logan gently took her chin in one hand until she looked at him.  "I do-don't think I ca- I can…" she stopped, unable to finish.

Logan didn't need her to finish to understand.  "Why don't we go into the living room, maybe watch some TV for a while?  You know, make fun of all the lame-ass shows of this decade."

Max's smile was slightly lopsided as she responded, "D-doesn't sound too b-bad, actually.  Maybe we can find some-something dirty and violent to warp Dawn's mind."

"That's the spirit."

Joyce and Dawn were clearing the table as Buffy stood slowly, glancing towards the doorway that their guests had disappeared through.  After a moment of debate, she turned to her mother and said, "I think I'm going to go out a little early tonight.  Try to do a little extra slaying."

Joyce nodded, but Dawn frowned.  "You're going to leave now?"

"Vampires aren't going to wait for Max to be back on her feet, Dawn," Buffy said, a little harshly.

Dawn seemed taken aback for a moment, but then she simply shrugged.  "Whatever.  I'm going to make some popcorn to eat while I get warped."

The weather was warm enough outside that Buffy decided that she didn't need her jacket.  Or at least that was what she told herself as she left through the back door, never looking towards the living room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Geez, Buffy thought as she made her way across the backyard towards her house.  Was there an undead convention in LA and I just didn't get the memo?  Where'd all the creepy-crawlies get to?  You'd think at least one would show up so I could kick its ass. 

Contrary to what she had told Dawn, it almost seemed like the vampires were waiting for Max to get back on her feet.  Buffy hadn't seen any demons, vamps, or any other unsavory, undead characters the whole time she was out patrolling.  Granted, she only looked for a few hours, but still... at nearly eleven, there should be something up and about in this town.  Well, besides her.  As she let herself in the back door, she turned the knob slowly, not wanting to wake anyone.

Except for Logan, who was in the kitchen as she entered.  He raised an eyebrow and said, "You're back early.  I thought it'd take you a long time to… uh… slay."

Buffy shrugged.  "Goes pretty quick if there's nothing out there to slay."

"That makes sense."  Logan wheeled over to the refrigerator and replaced the milk jug that Buffy hadn't noticed he'd been holding.

Buffy glanced at the tall glass of milk sitting on the island.  "I don't suppose that's for you, is it?"

 Logan smiled.  "I'm actually not very fond of milk."

Buffy was silent for a moment.  "How's she doing?"  Her voice was quiet and tentative.

Logan's smile fell away.  He said nothing, just inclined his head towards the living room.

Buffy reluctantly picked up the glass of the milk.  She didn't know why the thought of seeing Max made her so… itchy, but she had been trying to avoid her all evening.  It wasn't like she hadn't seen her have a seizure before… except the worst seizure she had seen wasn't the worst.  That was yet to come.

Finally, she gave herself a little mental shake.  Come on Buffy, this is silly.  Just talk to her for pity's sake.  With that, she turned and walked to the doorway… and stopped in shock.

Max was curled up in a tiny ball on the sofa.  Her arms locked around her knees, which she had pulled up to her chest.  Even then, she couldn't control the massive tremors that quaked through her body.  Her breath was coming in shallow gasps, punctuated by the occasional grunt of pain.

Buffy's feet were glued to the floor. She couldn't move a muscle as she watched Max – her friend – huddled there.

"This is the price of perfection."  Logan's quiet voice came from behind her.

Buffy felt the blood drain from her face in mortified realization.  "You heard that?" she whispered.

Logan shook his head.  "No.  But she did."

"I didn't mean—"

"She knows you didn't.  So do I.  But do you?"  He carefully took the glass of milk from Buffy's hand, placed it between his knees, and moved over to Max, softly calling her name as he reached her side.

Buffy didn't wait to see if Max woke up.  She ducked her head, and fled upstairs with her shame.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been quite some time since Buffy had last been there, but not much had changed.  Boxes littered the room… remnants of half-forgotten memories and hard lessons learned.  Buffy resisted the urge to open one of the cartons. They weren't her memories – they were Faith's – but it also felt  too reminiscent of Pandora.  She heard a small meowing sound and turned to see a brown tabby cat sitting on a tall stack of the boxes.  A feline queen perched on her throne.

Buffy smiled to see that Faith had been right about the cat.  It had taken care of itself pretty well.  She walked over to it and gave a gentle scratch behind one ear.  The cat clearly enjoyed the attention.  It stretched its head to rub its cheek against her slender fingers, and purred loudly. 

"Where's your friend?  Faith is supposed to be here, isn't she?"  But when the cat ignored her,  turning instead to lick the base of its tail, Buffy felt mildly foolish.  "I'm sorry.  She doesn't belong here anymore, does she?  Faith woke up."

The cat meowed in the affirmative and leaped from its place, landing with barely a sound.  It took a few steps, and when it realized that Buffy wasn't following,  turned and growled at her.

 Buffy held up her hands in acquiescence.  "Okay, okay, I'm right behind you."  The cat took a small trotted smoothly  to a floor length mirror in a corner.  "What do you see?" she asked as it rose on its hind legs and pawed at the glass.  She stepped around the edge and turned to face her reflection.

Max was looking back at her.

"Holy crap on a stick!" Buffy yelped.

Max laughed.  "Guess again."

Buffy raised a hand and hesitated before touching the mirror.  Her fingers touched the solid surface of the glass.  It was so cold that it almost burned her fingertips.  "It's a mirror," Buffy stated.

Max rolled her eyes.  "Of course it's a mirror."

"Then what are you doing in there, Max?"

"I'm not Max.  I'm your reflection."

"My reflection?" Buffy repeated incredulously.  "I'm sorry, but for a reflection, you're not very reflective of… well, me!"

Max shrugged and crossed her arms, taking a small pacing step before responding.  "That's the funny thing about mirrors.  How often do they show our true reflection?  We look in them and we say, 'I'm too short, too tall.  I wish I were thinner…  I wish that zit wasn't there… I wish had boobs.'"

Buffy snorted at that.  "So you're saying I want to be Max?  I think you're a little off base with that one, too."

Max shook her head.  "I'm not saying that at all.  But there's something she has that you want."

"Perfection," Buffy admitted.  "The salvation of the world not dependent on my ability to fight.  She has the choice to stay home one night or go out with friends without worrying that someone out there in the dark is dying because she's not there to fight for them."

"A reflection of your life," Max added.

"Yeah.  She really is.  I sleep."

"I don't."

"I'm fair."

"I'm dark."

"I stand."

"I run."

"I fall."

"I fly."

"I die."

"I survive."

Buffy frowned.  "Survive?  You don't live?"  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the cat move and looked down to see it rub its chin on the edge of the frame and paw at the glass again.  "What does she see?"  Buffy asked.

Max shrugged.  "Who knows?  Maybe she sees a dog, or a bird, or a fish."

"But we see her real reflection."

"Because we're not her.  We see the reality."

Considering that, Buffy asked quietly, "And what does Max see?"

"Max sees," she hesitated.  "Who knows what Max sees?"  Then she shook her dark head, " No, that's not quite right.  Max is probably one of very few people who actually sees herself."

Buffy was surprised.  "That doesn't quite fit with the Max I know."

"You don't really know her, do you?" the reflection replied.  "Most of the  time Max doesn't see anything or anyone but herself."

"Oh.  What about Logan?  Does she see him?" Buffy asked slyly.

"I really shouldn't go there," Max replied, laughing.  "The best answer I can give to that one is, maybe sometimes.  And we'll leave it at that."  She grew thoughtful.  "Do you… really want to know what she sees?"

Buffy wanted to say no, but she was too curious.  "Yes, I do."

Max held out a hand on the other side of the glass.  Buffy hesitated a second.  She slowly reached, and this time, her fingers didn't touch glass.  They passed through and touched flesh.  Buffy looked up at Max with shock. 

Max smiled.  "Don't stop now." 

Buffy took a step…

…and stepped into a dull, gray world of snow and ice.

The chill immediately shot straight through to her bones.  "Why am I here again?"  Turning, she saw that she was talking to empty air.  Max was gone.  "Well, that's figures."

Buffy surveyed the land around her, but saw nothing that she hadn't seen before.  The same trees, the same snow, the same lifeless air.

Sprinting footsteps through snow…

Glancing down, she saw that she was barefoot.  "Where are my shoes?" she asked herself.

"You don't need them," a familiar British voice said.

Dogs barking in a vicious chase…

Buffy turned and saw Giles.  "What am I doing here?"

"It is your turn to be the watcher," he intoned, emotionless.

Glass breaking…

The cold air whipped around them, its bite snapping at their exposed skin.  "Giles, please!" Buffy begged.  "Tell me what that means!"

Ice cracking and water splashing…

He sighed, and closed his eyes for a moment before putting a hand gently on her shoulder.  "It means nothing more, and nothing less, than just that."  Giles stopped and his hand fell from Buffy's shoulder.  "This is a journey I can't take with you."

"Will I be alone?"

"No," he replied, looking past her.

There were footsteps… but not running.  The snow crunched crisply as a single pair of feet strode across the frozen landscape.  Buffy turned.  A man stepped purposefully out of the gray shadows.  His steely blue gaze was as cold as the air as he  stared at her.  She couldn't help but the small tremble of fear that ran through her at the sight of him.

"Is this the one?" the man asked Giles sharply.

Giles took a breath and nodded.  "This is my… charge, Buffy Summers."

The man inclined his head at her.  "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Summers."  His expression was anything but pleased.  " I'm Colonel Donald Lydecker."

Buffy tried to swallow back her fear.  "Good to meet you, too, uh… Colonel."

Lydecker nodded in acknowledgement of the title.  "I'm sure you're wondering why you're here."

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief.  "Actually, yeah."

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes.  Sir."  Lydecker took a step closer to her as his face hardened.  "This teacher of yours may let you get away with that 'yeah' bullshit, but under my command, you will offer proper respect."

"But I didn't mean…"

Lydecker moved until he was nose to nose with Buffy.  "Did I give you permission to speak?" he shouted.

"No!  Sir!" Buffy added hastily.

Lydecker backed off a few steps.  "That's better.  You will not speak unless directly spoken to, is that understood?"

"Now you wait just a minute," Giles said, moving between them.  "You will not speak to her like she's one of your—"

"I will speak to her in whatever way I choose," Lydecker told Giles with a twisted smile on his face.  "She's not yours anymore."

Buffy blinked, and they were no longer outdoors.  The air, however, was just as cold and crisp in the grey room.  Underneath her bare feet, the tile felt like slabs of ice.

Ice cracking…

"She's mine," Lydecker continued.  "She's here to watch…"

"To be the watcher," Giles added from somewhere in the room. 

Buffy couldn't see him from her position, sitting at a table, staring at Lydecker.

"And by watching, she will learn," Lydecker finished. 

He stepped aside to reveal a large white screen, and Buffy could see her name in bold, black print. 

"She will learn that she has no name."

The word seemed to shift out of focus, the letters running together, reforming, becoming…

A barcode.

"That she is no one but who we tell her she is."

The images came fast and furious, one slide after another, flashing bright in the dismal dusk of the room.  Messages…

Obedience

Click.

Reliance

Click.

Teamwork

Click.

Objective

Click.

Five slides… ten… fifty… a hundred… a thousand.  And more.  Buffy could only sit rigid as the minutes seemed to pass like hours, as the words snapped across her vision with military precision.

 Finally, she dared to look out of the corners of her eyes.  Rows of children sat staring at the slides, their hands flat against the table tops, elbows at ninety degree angles, bare feet flush against the cold floor.  Their young eyes were flat, emotionless.  Lifeless.

One child – Buffy almost hesitated to call her a girl -- slowly turned her head to the side.  Beneath the buzz cut, dark eyes, nearly black, met Buffy's.  Like the others, they were dead eyes. But far beneath the surface, there was the faintest glimmer of life…

"Eyes front!" Lydecker shouted.  He moved rapidly over to the young girl and leaned into her face. 

Buffy wanted to protest that it was her fault, that she had drawn the child's attention, but something inside made her stay silent.

"You had no cause to move out of line, soldier!  Do you enjoy discipline, soldier?"

"Sir!  No, sir!" was the reply.

Buffy glanced out of the corner of her eyes again.  The voice seemed so familiar…

"Then I will not see you move again, will I not?"

"No, sir!  Sir, this soldier will not move again!"

"See that it doesn't," Lydecker growled.  He turned to look at Buffy, and she quickly shifted her eyes to the screen in the front of the room.  He opened his mouth to speak, but Giles interrupted.

"This isn't working," he said softly.

Click.

Loyalty

Lydecker huffed a sharp, exasperated breath.  "Well, then, what do you suggest?"

Click.

Dedication

"I suggest letting her watch."

Click.

Target

"Will that work?"

Click.

Allegiance

"Couldn't hurt to try."

Click.

Manticore

Buffy gasped.  *Manticore?* she thought.  *But that's--*

Click.

Manticore is life.

*Then this is—*

Click.

Without Manticore, you are Nothing.

Buffy turned her head to look at the girl. 

The girl blinked with dark, ancient eyes.

Buffy felt herself fading…

Nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hour was late, and they knew they should be in their cots.  Maneuvers would be early tomorrow.  Instead, they were up discussing the mission plan, to be ready.

The Colonel always wanted them to be ready… for anything.

"As far as I know, it's a drop exercise," X5-599 told the group.  "Standard gear, but loaded."

"Usual load?" X5-656 asked.

X5-599 shook his head.  "Combo – real and mock.  Responsiveness testing to unexpected failure."

Buffy felt her consciousness locked in the body of one of these soldier-children.  She had no control over anything – body, mind, sensation – and was forced to do nothing but… watch.  Thoughts rippled through, and she didn't know what they meant.

*Jack…*

"We never fail," X5-493 stated boldly.

The pain Buffy was forced to feel was horrible.  Powerful grief as someone's mind kept calling, *Jack… he failed.  JACK failed!  And now he's…*

The image flashed through her mind: another soldier-child, eyes fluttering during roll call, collapsing, being dragged away…

*Jack!*

Unable to sleep, like usual.  Looking at a trembling hand…  *They'll take me to the nomalies,* was the thought, knowing that there was no alternative.

She tried to force her mind back to the briefing. 

X5-210 kept glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, worried, because she knew X5-452 was having troubles.  Worried, because she knew what X5-452 had seen.

*What did she see?* Buffy wondered.

*I saw…*

The Colonel's voice echoed through her mind, like always.  "There is always an alternative!" he said, in the commanding voice of his.  "If there is none immediately available, determine whether it is tactically sound to wait for an alternative to come.  If waiting is not an option, then create your own alternative!"

*I'll create an alternative,* X5-452 thought.  She eased her thin legs out from underneath the thin blanket that did nothing to keep out the chill.  She tiptoed towards the door, and saw X5-210 sit up in bed.  With a few hand motions, she told the girl, *Jondy, search and rescue, Jack*

X5-210's eyes widened in surprise.  *Jack?* she signed back.  *Location unknown--*

*Affirmative.  No rescue imminent.  Initial recon,* X5-452 replied, hands moving quickly in an attempt to camouflage the trembling one.

*Pair?*

X5-452 shook her head.  *Solo.*

*Procedure…*

The only response X5-452 could come up with was a favorite of the Colonel.  "Screw procedure," she whispered as she left the barracks.

Something in the back of X5-452's mind was screaming at her.  Obedience, Procedure, both of which she was ignoring.  Punishment, Solitary, Reprogramming.  X5-452 tried to  ignore those as well, and  kept herself focused on the mission.

She eased her way down the hall, flattening her body against the wall, as she had been trained.  She kept her hearing focused, listening for any of the guards who were on night watch.  She was surprised when her hearing didn't pick up the thick thumps of the guards' heavy boots, but instead a high, keening sound.  She made her way towards the noise.

One hallway, then another.  She didn't need schematics to guide her, since this wasn't an enemy base she was infiltrating.  This was her own.  She pushed down the guilt of the betrayal, her every instinct telling her that she was disobeying orders and would be reprimanded.  She continued.

She scouted carefully around the final corner, and saw a thin stream of light that shone into the hallway.  The high pitched whine had stopped.  As she drew closer, she could pick up words.

"No elevated chemical levels in the musculature… within tolerance." 

"This is unexpected, since the muscle spasms would at least indicate something causing them to misfire."

X5-452 blinked.  Experimentation?  Now?  Although it was true that some of the doctors' tests were run at night, they were still run on the X5s as a unit.  She crept towards the door.  It was open just enough…

Buffy wanted to yell at the girl, scream at her to run.  But she couldn't.  She watched.

X5-452 knew that she should be afraid, but, like the Colonel had told them before, fear was not an option.  Not now.  She moved to look around the edge.

X5-417 was dead.

She made no movement, couldn't even blink as she watched them take their saws and slice into him.  The doctors showed no emotion as their hands dripped with his blood, not even hesitating as they made the first cut through his skull…

And Lydecker stood there, sipping his coffee as though he were at a staff meeting, instead of an autopsy.  As X5-452 moved away from the door, to return back down the hall, she heard his strong voice echo through the hall, "He was a good soldier.  It was a shame to put him down."

*Jack…*

"We were wrong," she whispered to her brothers and sisters in the dark.  She had woken  them up as soon as she had returned.  She was desperately trying not to panic, knowing that panic could be the cause of failure.  "The ones with the shakes, they aren't taken to the nomalies.  They're terminated!"

"Are you sure?" X5-599 asked, always the CO.

"I saw.  They were dissecting  him."  Her young mind drew the events together and proceeded with the logic.  "They'll terminate me, and then dissect me."

Every eye in the room drew towards her.  "Are you sure?" X5-656 asked.

X5-452 held up the trembling hand.  There were gasps at the sight.

"We need a contingency plan," X5-766 said.

There were nods of agreement.  And all of group X5 stayed up that night as they made their first plans…

X5-452 shook off the memory again.  *Focus on the briefing,* she scolded herself.  *It'll do you no good to be caught with your gun aimed at the ground.*

As X5-452 turned her attention back to X5-599, Buffy noticed something odd.  The light being cast through the windows by the guard tower spotlights seemed to be brightening. 

A shiver passed through her body.

*What was that?* Buffy thought.

Another shiver.  Then another…

"Max!" X5-210 shrieked as X5-452 collapsed.

The room was jittering around her wildly.  Buffy could barely hear anything around her as all of X5-452's senses went wild.  All she could feel was the sheer terror that ran though the child – Max. 

Unfortunately, the unit had little time to react other than to cluster around X5-452, who was laying on the ground, seizing violently.  The doors to the barracks flew open, and the tac sergeant bolted through, followed by several medics.

Then it all happened so fast…

They were reaching down for her.  X5-599 struck, and the medic went down.  The sergeant advanced on them, and X5-766 grabbed him, kicking him in the back of the leg.   X5-766 quickly grabbed his weapon, which had foolishly been left holstered, and shot at the ceiling.  She then pointed the weapon at the guards, who quickly retreated out the doors. 

X5-599 shouted, "Begin X5E!  Total silence until the mission objective is achieved."  He reached down with X5-210 and gently helped pull her up to a standing position.  "Even you, Maxie," X5-599 whispered in her ear. 

"Come on, baby sister.  Time to go," X5-656 added softly.

The group left the barracks in a cluster, X5-766 in the lead.  *Being a unit makes us strong, harder to fight,* X5-452's training told her.

*But does it always?* Buffy's mind whispered in response.

One corridor, then another.  They were all on high alert, as all of them desperately tried to ignore the guilt of desertion.  They burst through a set of doors, and were confronted by a group of soldiers.  The light shone brightly into their eyes as X5-766 raised her pistol.

*Oh, God,* Buffy thought.  She wanted desperately to wake up –  anytime now – but she kept watching…

…and a shot rang out through the air.  As X5-766 hit the ground, the gun went skittering across the floor. 

X5-452 wanted to scream.  *Eva!* her mind shouted over and over.  But the order for silence had been given.

*Screw silence!* Buffy tried to shout at the girl.  She wanted her to react… cry, scream, shout, laugh… anything.

X5-452 looked at the gun, and saw a pool of blood running towards it.  She  looked at the hole in X5-766's forehead…

Buffy shuddered, wanting to throw up.

X5-452 slowly looked up.  Out of the light came the Colonel himself, his face cold as he lowered his weapon.  The only emotion he showed was indignation that the child soldiers would even attempt…

Escape!

They ran!  Quicker than the normal eyes could see, they darted out into the hallway.  The alarms began wailing around them, echoing through the halls.  They pressed themselves flat against the wall, checking to make sure the next corridor was clear.  As they began to move out, X5-452 noticed that X5-798 wasn't following.  X5-452 turned and gave the girl a look, motioning to her to follow.  *Jace, stop being such a civvie!* she thought.  But X5-798 shook her head, and backed around the corner.

There was no time to mourn a second lost sister.  The rest of the unit was ahead of her, and she needed to catch up.  Her shakes had gone, but she was queasy, and slightly unsteady on her feet.  Which was why she felt uneasy looking at the massive windows ahead of them.

They slowed for a split second, staring at the choice in front of them.  As a unit, they made their decision.  They ran straight at the window…

Glass shattered around them, the bits raining around them like falling stars.  They tucked as they fell, rolling as they hit the snow which cushioned their impact.  X5-210 helped X5-452 to a standing position, and then they all separated, running for their lives.

The sound of feet pounding through the snow echoed all around as the soldiers ran. 

X5-452 dodged the lights of the helicopters, as they tried to illuminate the landscape so the guards on snowmobiles could track the escapees.  She ducked between the trees and came to the top of a hill.  Looking around, she saw her unit popping up from behind the logs and brush in the area.  She dodged behind one large log herself and waited. 

After a few seconds, X5-210 came over the hill.  X5-452 smiled in relief, and grabbed her hand as X5-210 joined her.

X5-599 decided that everyone who had made it was there.  Any of the others…  He jumped out from his hiding place and faced the X5's – the CO giving his team their final orders.  *Time's up,* he signed.  *Move out in pairs.*  He pointed at several pairs, and then leaped back behind the log, dividing the rest.

*You can't split up!* Buffy thought.

*We can't split up!* X5-452 thought as X5-599 motioned for her and X5-210 to leave together.  X5-210 nodded, but X5-452 shook her head.

X5-599 frowned angrily and motioned again for them to leave.  Reluctantly, they left.

Again, they ran.

The sound of feet was soon joined by the sound of gunfire.  X5-452 knew that the guards weren't using the machine guns as a deterrent. 

As a chilling affirmative, her enhanced hearing picked up the faint sound of a radio crackling and  the Colonel's voice carrying on the wind, "This is Lydecker. I want you to capture if you can, but if any of them make it to the perimeter, you are to terminate. Is that understood?"

There was disbelief in the voice of the respondent.  "Confirming, sir.  You're giving an order ten-zero-six?"

There was little hesitation as the Colonel replied, "It's my responsibility.  Shoot them."

It wasn't long before X5-452 and X5-210 reached the perimeter.  As they approached, X5-452's heart began to beat wildly with fear.  *I want to go back,* she thought frantically.  *I can go back.  I'll be a good soldier this time, follow their orders.  Then maybe they won't…*

*Kill you?* Buffy thought, almost unable to believe that X5-452 was even debating returning.

The fence loomed in their view, growing larger and larger with each step.  The closer they got, the louder X5-452 cried in her mind.  *What are we doing?!  There's nothing out there!  This is home.  Without Manticore, we are nothing!  Nothing!  NOTHING!!*

They hit the fence.

Although they could jump high, they knew it would not be enough to clear the barbed wire at the top.  So they began to climb.  X5-452 heard the sounds of a scuffle behind her, and hoped that one of their own was not hurt.  The girls reached the top, quickly climbed over, and dropped to the snow below.

They were on the wrong side of the fence now.

Jondy and Max were running as soon as they landed.  But Max stopped and turned as she heard the sound of taser darts hitting their mark.  She turned and saw X5-599 lying in the snow, twitching as the currents of electricity ran through his body, with guards gathering around him.  Their leader had been captured.

Max felt slim fingers touch her own, and she began running again, following Jondy.  As they sprinted through the snow, she noticed a thin cracking sound.  Glancing down, she saw that they were running across the icy surface of the lake that lay beyond the boundaries of Manticore.  Max opened her mouth to warn Jondy, when the ice gave way beneath her feet.

The cold of the water was a sharp stab even to the skin of an X5 as she fell into its depths.  An assault of pain shot through her thin body as she struggled not to let any of the water into her lungs.  She couldn't help but claw at the water, trying to find some purchase anywhere.  She was able to reach near the surface, but found that she must have drifted from where she fell, because the surface was completely covered over.  She plunged downward again, this time in a controlled move, and swam towards the hole that she had fallen through.

"Max!" Jondy called… and then looked up, fear in her eyes.

Max could hear them, too.  Could feel the rumble of the humvees through the water.  Could see the shine of the lights from the helicopters.  She dared not break the surface now.  Instead she pleaded with her heart.  *Run, Jondy!  Leave me!  Just… go!  Let me go!  Let go!*

Jondy stood and ran.

Max's heart broke.  Her last connection to her unit was gone.  Hot tears welled up in her eyes, only to mix with the frigid water. 

X5-452 had never cried before.

Max was sobbing under the ice. 

She struggled to regain her control as she heard the vehicles skid to a stop on the ice.  Doors slammed, and the voice of a guard said, "Sir, we've got seven so far – three wounded, two killed."

The tears came harder, faster.  Two killed.  But so many more before them.

Lydecker's voice rang out strongly, "You've got a big problem if just one makes it to the outside."

If not for the cold and the grief, Max would have laughed.  *Look down, Colonel.*

"Well, realistically, sir, it's ten degrees out here.  How far can these kids get?"

*As far as it takes.*

"Just find them," Lydecker snapped.

The engines roared away, but Max stayed underneath the ice.  She knew that she could stay under for over four minutes, but had never tested exactly how long before.  She counted the time in her head.

Time was all she had now.

Buffy blinked, startled as she realized that she was no longer within the child, but was looking at her from a position next to her.  Max's dark eyes stared at her solemnly. 

Eyes that were too old to belong to a child.

Buffy could sense somehow that Max had made a decision.  Max reached towards the ice, touching something on the underside.  She looked at Buffy and smiled, pointing.  Buffy looked up, and saw her own familiar reflection. 

Buffy turned back to the girl.  She watched as Max closed her eyes, and inhaled the icy water…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy shot up in bed, gasping for air.  The dream that had seemed so real… was real.  She clutched the blankets around her, shivering violently with a long-remembered chill of a winter that was yet to be.  She slowly shifted out of bed, and placed her bare feet on the floor, relieved to feel the carpet beneath them.  She stood, her muscles stretching slightly as they shifted out of their position.

Her muscles pumped and burned as she ran through the snow

Buffy swallowed at the memory, and shook her head to clear it.  She tiptoed towards the bathroom, doing her best to be quiet.  She was sure no one in the house would appreciate being woken up this late.  It had been too long a day.

Buffy turned on the shower full blast, and turned the temperature up as hot as she could stand.  Almost immediately, steam began to roll through the room.  She stripped off her clothes, stepped into the shower, and let the boiling hot water beat down on her skin. 

The crack of ice… a splash of water

Even through the heat, she couldn't shake the feeling of the icy cold water that Max had plunged into – and stayed immersed in for who knows how long.  Buffy remained in the shower for five minutes, ten, twenty, before finally giving up and turning off the water.  She stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and began drying off.  She pulled her sweats on and walked over to the sink.  She smiled as she saw the steam covered mirror.  She grabbed her towel off the floor and wiped a path across the glass.  She dropped the towel and looked up.

Dark eyes looked back at her.

Buffy gasped and leapt backwards, rubbing her eyes with her hands.  She cautiously moved her hands, and saw her own familiar hazel-green eyes.  She swallowed, trying to control her racing heart.  But as she struggled to regain her breath, her mind couldn't help but superimpose her face with that of the young girl with the close cropped hair and the ancient eyes.

Buffy couldn't take it anymore.  She threw open the bathroom door and raced down the stairs, ignoring Logan's call after her as she dashed by the living room and out the front door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

February 19, 2001

A kick.  A punch.  Another punch.  A block.  A swift turn.  All beautifully, precisely executed.  But with too much passion, too much energy.

 But Buffy couldn't stop.  She threw everything she could into the hits she swung at the sparring dummy.  Dull thuds resounded through the training room at each blow.  And none of it was enough.

The faces, the sounds, the smells – all of it was frozen into her mind.  You don't understand things yet, Max had said.

Now Buffy understood too much.

Seeing that man's –  Lydecker's – face in the place of the dummy's, Buffy started punching rapidly, one blow after another, trying to erase it from her memory.

The sharp snap of skin impacting on skin broke through her manic concentration. 

Buffy stopped and blinked, her vision clearing as she focused on the pale hand with chipped black fingernail polish wrapped around her outstretched fist.  She sighed and, all at once, the energy drained out of her.  She slowly pulled her arm back.  "Spike."   She spat out his name like it left a bad taste in her mouth.  "What do you want now?"

The vampire raised a hand to heart, looking wounded.  "Why, Slayer!  You don't sound like you're happy to see me."

Buffy's brows knitted together.  "Probably because I'm not."  She walked over to the pommel horse and picked up a towel she had placed there.  She wiped her forehead with it and glanced at Spike over her shoulder.  "You're still here?"

He gave her a self-satisfied look that said 'You're-not-getting-rid-of-me-till-I'm-ready-to-leave.' Then he responded to her question with another question.  "What'd it do?" he asked, indicating the dummy.

She turned to completely face him, confused by the random topic change.  "Huh?"

Spike huffed in frustration.  "How come you're in here entertaining yourself with a punching bag grudge match 'stead of being out there wailing on the real things?"

Buffy sighed.  She was tired.  Too tired.  But she'd be damned if she'd let him know that.  She shrugged.  "Couldn't sleep," she said honestly.  "Thought I'd come out here and try to work off some of my energy."

"Well, if you ever get tired of fighting off an inanimate object, the two of us could always go a round or two."

Buffy scoffed at that.  "Yeah that'd be a hoot for about the first three seconds until the first punch you tried to throw at me."  She eyed him speculatively.  "Then again… watching you go from Big Badass vampire to big ball of whining agony in 3.4 seconds flat might be fun."

Spike rolled his eyes at that.  "Well, it wouldn't have had to go that way if I weren't actually trying to hurt you."

"Like that would ever happen," Buffy sneered.

Spike shoved his hands in the pockets of his duster, tracing the outline of a name in the nonexistent dust with one toe.  "I'd never hurt you," he mumbled low in his throat.

Buffy stared at him, and he met her startled hazel gaze with his own frank blue one.  She was the first to look away, as a sharp, mocking laugh escaped her lips.  "No kidding.  See above re: big ball, whining agony."

He laughed as she went to take a seat on a pile of mats sitting against a wall.  This was the type of energy he loved to see out of her, rather than the lethargic burn he'd seen when he came in.  But as he watched her for a few seconds, he could almost see the lethargy come back. 

Buffy narrowed her eyes at him.  "So what are you doing out this late?"

"Are you daft?  It's just after midnight."

"I meant, what are you doing here."

Spike lifted a slim shoulder in a half shrug and swept aside the tails of his long black leather coat as he took a seat next to her.  He was pleased to note that she didn't slide away from him – or shove him over the side of the mats.  "Well, I was out and about doing my usual mischief and mayhem  – minus murder – and saw a light on.  Thought I'd stop in and see what the newest Big Bad was all about."

Buffy looked at her hands.  "No new Big Bad."

"Old Big Bad?"

"Not an old Big Bad either."

"Little Bad?"

"Would you stop that!" Buffy snapped at him, irritated.

He leaned back on his elbows, extending his long legs and crossing them at the ankles.  "Well, help me some, then.  You're not often haunting this place solo.  What's up?"

"Nothing," she replied, looking away.

Spike sighed softly.  "You know, luv, you're not a particularly good liar."

She glared at him before standing up and starting to pace.  "I was perfectly happy here before you dropped by, you know?  Why don't you go find someone else to bother?"

"I prefer to bother you."  He leaned back and crossed his arms, grinning smugly.

She narrowed her eyes at him.  "The last few days, not so much.  As a matter of fact, lately you've been rather conspicuously absent.  Mind telling me what I've been doing right?"

Spike snorted a laugh.  "You wish.  It's the company you keep of late.  Makes me… jumpy."

"Oh."

"Though if you really want me to bother someone else, I guess I could make the sacrifice and go bother your houseguests," he suggested, hazarding a guess at the source of her distress.

Buffy stiffened and stopped her pacing.

Bingo, he thought.

"You leave them alone," she snapped swiftly.  "They've got their own problems right now."  Buffy resisted the urge to start pacing again.  The nervous energy was coming back, and she felt like she was going to scream or cry or… or… whatever.  Something was going to happen.

"Do you want to talk about it?"  Spike asked quietly.

"NO," was her emphatic reply.  Too emphatic.  Crap.  Buffy walked back over and resumed her seat, even though Spike hadn't moved.  She could handle sitting next to him for the five seconds it would take to get rid of him.  "Max is… sick."

"Oh?"  Not what he'd expected, with Buffy's reactions.  "Someone done something for her?  Get her to a doctor, or hospital, or the like?"

"It's not quite that simple.  She and Logan are too damned paranoid to do anything about it.  So they're both sticking their heads in the sand, hoping they can either find the miracle cure or wait until it passes."

"It?"

"Seizures."

Spike gave a low whistle.  "Nasty, those.  Bite someone wrong, suck 'em too slow, that sometimes happens.  So what's this miracle cure?"

Buffy racked her brain for a moment before coming up with the right word.  "Tryptophan.  I guess it's something that helps.  For whatever reason, Max doesn't have any with her.  She's trying to stop them with milk, but it really doesn't seem to be helping much."

"Why the paranoia, then?"

Buffy was silent for a long moment before responding.  "Both Max and Logan have said it's too dangerous.  There's too much of a chance for… that place to catch wind."

"What?  Manticore?  Yeah, can't be too careful with those secret government types."  Then he paused, because he'd seen her shudder at his mention of Manticore.  Perhaps this time, she was lying to herself.  "It's not people that's got you all bothered then, is it?  It's that place."

Buffy wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her upper arms as if to ward off a chill.  "It's that place," she agreed.  "It's the people in that place.  What she was like… what they made her do… what they were doing to her…"

"Max tell you all of this?  She doesn't seem the type to share all."

"She didn't tell me."

Spike blinked.  "Then how do you know so much?"

She looked up at him, and he saw the dark shadows under her eyes.  "Honestly?  Not sure.  I've been picking up her dreams or memories or something.  Might be some effect of… I've been dreaming it.  I've been seeing it every night in my dreams for weeks.  And tonight…" Buffy sat silent.  Ancient eyes.  "Tonight I saw it all."  She stood again, the chill reinvading her soul.  She walked towards the window in the room, and looked at the night sky.

"Slayer?"  Spike asked, concerned.  She looked… haunted.  "Buffy?"

"She was just a child," she whispered.  "But her thoughts… feelings… they were so… old.  Wounded.  Manticore tried so hard to breed all the humanity out of them.  They'd train it out of them.  Then they'd beat it out of them.  If that didn't work, they'd kill them.  Any imperfection, any flaw… they'd be terminated.  And they were expected to take it and move on, and just forget.  But she can't forget.  There's too much there.  And…"  Buffy stopped.  "And she was just a child."

Spike stood and slowly walked over to her.  He leaned against the wall next to the window and told her softly, "We were all children once."

Buffy looked at him in wonder.  It took her a moment to recompose herself before responding, "Yes… we all were, weren't we?  Once."

"Once."  He gave a short, sardonic laugh.  "So very long ago."

"A century… five years ago… eight years from now.  All so long ago.  And how quickly we forget."

"Or pretend to, at least."  They stood there regarding each other, momentarily content to be at peace with each other.  Finally Spike asked, "What're you going to do, then?"

Buffy turned from the window and walked towards the door, barely even noticing that her nervous energy had all but disappeared.  "What I should have done a long time ago – talk to her."

He watched her walk away, but stopped her with a word.  "Ah, Buffy…"  

Buffy half turned to look at him.

"How 'bout I help you with another part of your problem?  Ask around a bit for that Tryptophan?"  He glanced subconsciously at the ground.

Her eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing a couple of times at the unexpected offer.  "Thanks.  That'd be a big help."

Spike raised an eyebrow and grinned cockily.  "Always willing to lend a helping hand.  Or two.  As long as I get to choose where to put them."

Buffy groaned as she walked out the door.  "In your dreams."

"Always, Slayer," he murmured after her retreating form.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Max was sitting on the counter in the dark, sipping a glass of milk, when Buffy walked through the kitchen door.  "Hey," Max greeted her.

"Hey," Buffy replied.  "I didn't expect to see you up and about."  She dangled the gallon of milk she had bought from one finger.  "Got you something while I was out."

Max laughed softly.  "Thanks.  Jewelry it ain't, but just as welcome."  She regarded Buffy thoughtfully.  "You okay?"

Buffy raised an eyebrow in surprise.  "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"Then ask."

There was a long, awkward pause.  Max continued to serenely sip her milk as she waited for Buffy, who was looking everywhere in the kitchen except at her.

"You okay?"

Max shrugged.  "Been better, but not too bad.  Milk's been helping some."

"Well, that's good."  Their eyes met briefly, and then they looked away from each other.  The silence hung thick in the air.  Finally, Buffy let out a frustrated sigh.  "You still feel it, don't you?"

Max looked up from her milk.  "Feel what?"

Remember, Buffy… don't stop now…  "The water… the cold of it."

The dark-haired woman slowly set down her glass as she realized what Buffy was saying.

Buffy stepped closer, trying to get Max to make eye contact.  "It seeps into your bones.  You can't get rid of it, can you?"

"No," she whispered.

"So you take long, boiling hot showers to try to chase away the chill, but—"

"It stays.  It never goes away."  Max looked at Buffy, slightly concerned at her knowledge, but also knowing.  "You finally figured out what they were?  Your dreams?"

Buffy sighed.  "You heard that, too.  I'm not sure I've got them figured out.  I'm not sure I can.  Because they're yours."

Max nodded.

"And I'm just… a watcher.  Hell, since you've gotten here, all I've done is watched.  But I needed to be taught how to watch, what to watch for."

"And what did you see?" Max asked.

Buffy thought a minute.  "I saw that all of the X5's didn't even come up to Lydecker's shoulder – and he's not that tall.  I saw that Eva's fingers were so small that she could have stuck one down the barrel of the gun she held.  I saw that you were petite and light enough that you made it a good way across the thin ice on that lake—"

"Before I fell."

"—before it cracked."  Buffy moved over to Max and pulled the empty glass easily from her grasp.  She turned to the counter and opened up the milk she had brought, refilling the glass.  Before she turned around, she asked, "How long?  Were you under the water, I mean."

"Almost ten minutes.  I'd never held my breath that long before.  I would have held it longer, but—"

Buffy turned.  "You couldn't hold it any more.  You tried to take a breath—"

"And damned near drowned myself, I swallowed so much water."  Max laughed, a hard-edged, steely laugh, sharp enough to draw blood from the very air.  "It was so stupid!  I'd never messed up like that before.  I could have killed myself."

"But you didn't.  You survived."

"I survived," Max agreed.  "She didn't, though.  X5-452 died under the ice that night."  She looked at Buffy, and could see her own shadowed form reflected in the Slayer's eyes.  "She haunts me sometimes, you know?  X5-452.  I do sleep every once in a while.  But those mornings when I wake up, she's sitting on my chest, begging me to let her go back.  Because her world is all she knows, and it's so different from mine.  And mine—"

"Frightens her,"  Buffy finished.  She walked over to Max, and wrapped the other woman's shaking fingers around the glass.

"Thanks," Max said gratefully, as she lifted it to take a long drink.  Max's dark eyes seemed to look in Buffy's soul for a moment before she asked, "Who is Dawn?"

"What?" Buffy asked in shock.

Max chuckled.  "Not what.  Who.  There's a big difference."

"I know there's a difference," Buffy replied warily.  "Why do you ask?"

"Because most people don't light up like they're some kind of pure green star in the sky.  Logan thinks I'm hallucinating, but I know I'm not.  I've never seen anything like her before."

Buffy sighed.  She'd been waiting for that very question, but hoping she could put it off for a while longer.  "Dawn is… human.  At least she is now.  She used to be energy – a Key.  She was in danger, so some monks made her into a girl and sent her to me for protection.  They even changed our memories to include her, so she could have a world that she fits in.  Nobody knew… until recently."  Buffy's face grew wistful.  "We can't see what she really looks like.  Only those who are supposedly 'outside reality' can."

"And I'm currently running with that brain-fucked crowd.  So what do I need to watch out for?" Max asked.

Buffy's relief was so great that she almost cried.  Max had only known them for a little over a week, during which time she'd been transported across time, lied to, avoided, and generally distrusted.  Yet she didn't even blink at the thought of helping to protect one of them.  Although, it is Dawn.  If it was Anya, on the other hand…  "Thank you," Buffy said quietly.  She took a deep breath.  "What you need to watch out for is a pissed off, ditzy blonde with great fashion sense."

Max almost choked on the remainder of her milk.  "You must be smoking something strong, girl!"

"I wish I were.  Unfortunately we're not even sure what's up—"  Buffy cut herself off as she saw a shiver run through Max's thin frame.  She had a feeling that this time it wasn't from a chill.  "Speaking of up, but what are you still doing here?  I know you need the milk, but being vertical can't be doing your body good."

Max rolled her eyes and laughed.  "What I'm doing is waiting for Willow.  She's bringing medicine."

Buffy's grin lit up her face.  "That's great!  When's she coming over?"

They both turned as they heard the front door open and shut.  "Right now," Max said, sliding off the counter, catching herself as her knees almost buckled.

They moved to the living room, where Willow was entering with a brown paper sack.  She glanced at Max with a mixture of discomfort and concern.  She tried to ignore Max's shivering appearance as she held out the bag.  "Here.  I… uh… think this might help."

Max grabbed the bag, relieved.  She reached in, pulled out the bottle… and stopped.  The pills rattled from the shaking of her hand, as Max looked up and said, "This isn't right.  What I need is—"

"I know it's not right," Willow interrupted.  She could feel her face begin to flush as she rushed to explain.  "Tryptophan was taken off the market in 1990 by the  FDA.  Now it's only available by prescription – and rarely, at that, since there's other, safer drugs on the market that do the same thing: Prozac, Zoloft, Se—"

"Spare me the pharmacology lecture, please."  Max mentally cringed at the irritation in her voice.  She really didn't mean to come off so harsh, but… this was important.  "You can't get it."

Willow sighed.  "I can't get it.  Unless you want to try a doctor or hospital."

"No."  Max's tone was forceful.  She looked down at the bottle again.  "At least this has tryptophan in the name," she offered, trying to give the redhead a few points.

Willow nodded.  "5-HTP is actually the intermediary between tryptophan and serotonin, so it should do the same thing.  Maybe even quicker.  And the added bonus is that this is over the counter."

Max quickly opened the bottle and shook out a small handful.  She looked at them doubtfully for a few seconds before mumbling, "Worth a shot," and shoving them in her mouth, swallowing quickly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy stretched as she walked out of her bedroom.  She'd actually gotten six full, dreamless hours of sleep.  As she stepped out into the hall, she noticed her mother emerging from her own bedroom at the other end of the hall.  She smiled and walked over.  "Mornin', Mom.  You're up late."

Joyce returned the smile and kissed the top of her daughter's head.  "I know.  I was so exhausted that I slept the sleep of the dead last night."

"Mom, please don't joke about things like that."

Joyce laughed, but the laugh died quickly.  "How is Max doing?"

Buffy's own smile broadened as she told her, "Well, Willow brought some stuff over last night.  Max popped a couple pills and within a few minutes, the seizures stopped."

"That's wonderful!" Joyce exclaimed.  They started down the stairs.  "Why didn't you wake me up to let me know?"

"Remember that coma you were in?"  Buffy rolled her eyes. "Besides, she's… fine…"  They walked into the kitchen and saw Logan sitting in the corner by the bathroom door, looking very tired… and very worried.

He knocked softly on the door.  "Max?  You okay?"

Buffy frowned in concern.  "What's going on?"

Logan rubbed his eyes and looked up, noticing the two who had walked in.  He sighed.  "Max's… having a few problems."

"What do you mean?"  Buffy asked.  "Max gets pills, Max takes pills, Max gets better…"

"Max has side effects, Max throws up pills, Max gets worse," Logan snapped.  "There's no miracle cure for this, Buffy.  We all should have known that it wouldn't be as simple as substituting one thing for another." 

He looked at the two stricken women and exhaled.  "I'm sorry.  We've been up all night.  She was fine for a while, but then she started feeling strange.  About an hour after you went to bed, she started vomiting.  It hasn't stopped."

"The seizures…" Joyce began.

"Actually stayed away for a couple hours," Logan informed her.  "The 5-HTP did that much, at least.  But since she's started getting sick, she hasn't even been able to hold down much milk.  The seizures have come back, and she—"  He broke off abruptly as he heard footsteps on the stairs.  He gave three sharp raps on the bathroom door, and quickly pushed himself a small distance away.

Buffy and Joyce looked at him in confusion, as they heard the shower turn on.  A few seconds later, Dawn walked into the room.

"Morning!" she chirped at them as she entered.  Seeing Logan, she asked, "Where's Max?"

Logan forced a smile and cocked a thumb towards the bathroom. 

Dawn grinned as she heard the shower running.  "Maybe I can wait until she gets out… I want to see how she's doing."

"And how long do you plan on waiting?  The water just went on," Buffy said quickly, jumping to assist the Logan's defense..

"She did say to tell you 'hey,'" Logan offered.

Dawn laughed.  "Well, tell her 'hey' for me, too."

"Do you have lunch money?" Joyce asked.

Dawn nodded.  "Yup."  She grabbed an apple out of the refrigerator, and left.

The two women quickly turned back to Logan, who was already moving back to the bathroom door.  "Do you mind telling us what that was about?" Buffy asked.

Logan ignored them and knocked loudly on the door.  "Max?" he called, trying to be heard over the shower.  The shower quickly shut off.  "She's gone.  You can come out now."

"Do I have to?" was the weak response through the door.  The door slowly creaked open, and two trembling hands grasped the doorframe.

"My God!" Joyce breathed as she rushed over to Max.

Max's dark eyes were huge against the pallor of her face.  She swayed where she stood, trembling.

Joyce wrapped one arm around her shoulders, and placed a hand gently on Max's forehead.  "You're burning up!" she gasped, as Max leaned into the cool touch.

Max wanted badly to disappear into the woodwork, but didn't have the strength or energy to attempt her usual vanishing act.  So instead, she rested her head on Joyce's shoulder.  "I'm cold," she whispered.  She glanced at Buffy briefly, before closing her eyes.

Joyce led Max towards the living room, supporting much of the girl's weight as they slowly walked.  "You lie down on the couch, and I'll go get you a few blankets."

Logan watched them disappear through the doorway, then turned to Buffy.  "The search is back on," he told her, then left the same way the other two had.

Buffy looked after them for just a moment before she walked over to the phone, and quickly dialed a familiar number. 

"Xander?  Scooby meeting right now.  I don't care what you've got to do, just get yourself over to the Magic Box.  Pick up Willow and Tara on your way.  Is Anya already there?  Good.  I'll call Giles."  She hung up the phone without saying goodbye. 

After contacting Giles, she walked through the living room and called to everyone on her way out, "Off to try to find something at the Magic Box.  I'll be back later!"

Everyone was already at the Magic Box by the time Buffy arrived.  "Crunch time, guys.  Time to seriously make with the research," was her greeting.

Giles frowned at her, puzzled.  Normally he was the one to insist upon researching.  "What's happened?"

Buffy glanced at Willow, almost hating to break the news.  "The stuff you brought last night didn't work, Willow."

Willow's face fell.  "It didn't?  But I thought—"

"It did help for a little while, but it made Max sick.  And now she's worse."

"So… you want to see if we can find a cure?" Tara asked as she placed a comforting hand over Willow's.

"No," Buffy replied, shaking her head.  "We're going to get them home."

The shop was quiet as everyone digested that for a moment.  "Well, Buffy… if she's really getting that much worse, shouldn't our priority be to make her, well, not worse?" Willow asked.  "There'll be plenty of time to get her back to her time, uh, after.  She's better, I mean."

"Tryptophan is the only thing that can help her.  And the only place we know she can get it is Seattle in the year 2020.  For whatever reason, it's easier to get there than here.  So now we just have to get Max… there."

"I've been thinking about that problem for a while now," Anya spoke up from behind some shelves.  "And I – oof! – think I may have a couple books to at least start looking in."  Anya walked out from behind the shelves with a stack of perhaps fifteen very large, very dusty books obscuring her vision.

Xander jumped up to help her.  He grabbed the top half of the stack, trying not to sneeze as the dust tickled his nose.  "Ahn, we appreciate the help and all, but… if you're, uh, not that fond of Max—"

"Not 'not fond,'" Anya corrected him.  "Can't stand."

"Okay, can't stand.  So why are you so gung-ho about helping her?"

"Because if I help her, she'll go away.  At least until the next time Willow screws up and poofs her back," Anya declared cheerfully.

"Hey!" Willow exclaimed.  "In the same room!  Have good hearing!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever… take a book, quick."

Willow and Tara each took a book.  Tara immediately dug into hers, but Willow instead clutched hers close to her chest as she stood and walked over to Buffy, who had grabbed a volume of her own. 

"What if we can't get them back?"  Willow asked softly.

Buffy looked up.  "Huh?  What do you mean?"

Willow sighed.  "If we can't get them back, and we can't find Max some pills.  What happens then?"

Buffy realized what her friend was asking, but wasn't certain of the answer.  Or at least, didn't want give the one possible answer she knew.  "I'm sure we'll find a way—" 

"But what if we don't?!" Willow exclaimed.  "She's gonna get sicker and she's gonna die!  And what will that make me?"

Buffy grasped the redhead firmly by the shoulders and gave her a quick, stiff shake.  "Don't, Willow," she commanded.  "You can't take the blame for this.  We don't know what happened and we don't know what's going to happen.  We could go back to my house, and Max could be dancing naked in the front yard, singing show tunes and declaring her love for Anya."

Willow couldn't help the snort that bubbled out.  "Somehow, I'm thinking… not so much."  She turned her head to lean it against Tara's, as she came up behind her and gave her a reassuring embrace.

Buffy smiled and patted her friend's shoulder.  "What I'm saying is that this isn't your fault.  It's the fault of whoever woke up one morning and decided play God with the human genome… and then messed it up.  Max has weathered worse than this.  She'll be fine."

Willow smiled wanly and nodded.  "Yeah.  She'll be fine."  She opened her book and, linking arms with Tara, walked away.

Buffy turned back to her own book and her smile fell away.  Yeah.  She'll be fine.

If only she could believe that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Do you think she'll be able to help?  Great.  That's… that's wonderful, Giles, thank you.  How soon will you be here?  Okay, I'll be ready."  Logan hung up the phone.

"That sounded like good news," Joyce said from behind him.

Logan looked over his shoulder, startled, since he hadn't heard her enter the kitchen.  Then he turned and smiled.  "It's just a possibility.  But it's one more possibility than we had before.  Giles remembered a friend of his who lives a couple hours east of here.  She's licensed to practice homeopathy."

"And that's good?" Joyce asked. 

Logan nodded.  "It's very good."  He stopped and sighed.  "The only problem is that Giles says she's somewhat of a 'free spirit'  …I think that translates to 'strange hippie.'  She doesn't have a phone, so we'll just need to drive out there and hope she's in." 

He wheeled over to the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, and looked at Max.  She was huddled under some blankets, her eyes closed, body jerking every few seconds.  "Stupid," he whispered.

Joyce walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.  "She'll be fine, Logan."

He closed his tired eyes and rubbed them with his fingers.  "She's not fine, Joyce.  She could die and it'll be my fault."

Joyce sighed.  These two were all too willing to take the blame for each other.  "Logan, it's not your—"

"It is!" he snapped.  "I should have known.  She's been depressed and anxious lately…  I'd attributed it to some difficult things that have been happening back home, and to the fact that we're here and not in Seattle… but now I'm not so sure.  It might have been a sign that all the chemicals in her brain were starting to go haywire."

"Logan," Joyce repeated firmly.  "It's not your fault.  But if you're so worried, why don't you take her to a hospital?"

"Because we can't take the risk, and… and I promised her.  I told her I would know when to take her," he said.

"When?"

"When she can't say no," Logan replied.  They let that sit between them for a moment or two as they watched Max's restless form.  "Would you mind—" he began hesitantly, but stopped.

Joyce looked down at him.  "Of course I'll stay with her."

He gave a relieved smile.  "Thanks.  I'd told her once, a long time ago, I would stay with her.  I don't want her to be alone."  He looked over his shoulder as he heard the honk of a car's horn.  "Try to see if you can get her to sleep some.  I think it's been weeks since she's been able to rest.  I'll be back this afternoon, hopefully with good news."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her heart beat faster as she raced through the snow.  She could hear the bark of the dogs as they picked up her scent and closed in on her position.  A hand reached for her

Max's eyes snapped open and she immediately moved to grab the hand in the just the right spot to snap the bones.  Her lips pulled back in a snarl, and she prepared to give a shout… until something in her muddled mind pulled back to the present and she realized who she was looking at.  Mortified, Max let go of the wrist.  "Joyce!  I-I'm s-sorry," she stammered out between shakes.

Joyce smiled gently at the girl.  "It's fine.  Actually, I'm the one who should be sorry.  I shouldn't have snuck up on you like that."  She held up a blanket.  "It was falling on the floor."

"Oh."   Max gave her a semi-blank look as Joyce gently laid the blanket over her.  Max raised herself on her elbows and told her, "You don't have to-to stay around, you know.  I'll be f-fine by my- by myself."

"I know you would be," Joyce agreed.  "But humor me."  She bent down and gently stroked Max's face.  

Max didn't really have the energy to protest anymore.  "Okay," she said listlessly.

Joyce gently touched Max's shoulders, lifting her a bit.  Max frowned and sat up further, allowing Joyce to sit down next to her.  Joyce looked at Max for a couple seconds, not saying anything.  Then she smiled when Max finally got the hint, and laid back down, resting her head in Joyce's lap.

"You're t-too nice to me," Max protested feebly, relaxing as Joyce continued to stroke her hair.

"No, I'm not," Joyce replied.  "I'm just doing what I always do for my girls when they're not feeling well."  As Max mulled that over in silence,  Joyce took the opportunity to find out a bit more about her young charge.  "What do you usually do when you're like this?"

Max's shrugged her thin shoulders through the shaking, and closed her eyes.  She was getting drowsy.  "I usually take a few of my pills and - and sit in the bathroom for a while, until it bl-blows over."

"Alone?"

"Yeah.  Alone," Max replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"You don't have anyone?" Joyce asked sadly.

Max looked up at her, wondering why she drew that conclusion.  "I have friends."

"I mean… have you never had someone who loves you, take care of you?"  Joyce was distressed at the thought.

"What li-little family I have is scattered and hasn't been much of a - of a family.  So I guess… no.  I haven't."  Max closed her eyes again.  "Nobody loves me," she whispered.

Joyce was silent, thinking about the young man who had stayed up with her all night.  His worry and fear was apparent to any who looked at him. 

She decided that Max needed a new definition of 'love.'

"Tell me a story," Max murmured.

Joyce looked at her, surprised at the request.  She thought a moment.  The first story that came to her mind was an old favorite.  She had memorized it after reading it to her daughters so many times when they were younger.

"'All children, except one, grow up,'" Joyce began.  "'They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, "Oh, why can't you remain like this for ever!" This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end…'"

As she related the tale of a young boy who could fly, Joyce heard Max's breathing even out.  She paused in the telling, and looked down to find that Max was asleep, her small hands curled around the edge of the blanket like a child.  She looked very young, and Joyce wondered if it were for someone who had never been a child to grow up. 

"'You so do need a mother,'" she quoted softly, gently moving Max's long hair away from her face.  But Joyce's hand paused as in the process she uncovered something she didn't expect to see – a barcode on the back of Max's neck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A door opened, and then thumped shut.

"Did you find anything?"

A sigh.  "Yeah.  Giles' friend can get the tryptophan for us, but it's going to be about three days.  She has to order it from Canada."

"So now what?" a concerned voice asked.  Joyce.

"Now… we wait."  Logan?  Max barely recognized his voice for the strain and anxiety in it.  She began to struggle towards consciousness.

"Can she wait three days?  Look at her!"  Joyce's voice was urgent, intense.

"Have to.  No choice," Max murmured weakly as she opened her eyes.  She saw both Logan and Joyce looking at her, almost surprised that she was awake.  Or alive, even.  "How l-long was I out?" she asked, trying to sit up.  She was mildly irritated as her muscles didn't seem to be responding well, and she fell back down.

Joyce rushed over to help her, and replied, "About four hours."

Max squeezed her eyes shut, trying to blink the sleep out of them.  It didn't help much – her vision was still blurry.  "Pro-probably why I feel like shit.  Slept too - too much."  She could see well enough to see  Logan wasn't smiling.  "Please.  It'll be - it'll be okay.  Just wait."

He wheeled close to her and smoothed her hair away from her sweaty forehead.  If anything, she felt warmer.  "How long, Max?"  He stared into her feverish eyes, and could tell she was in a lot of pain, but hiding it.  He would wait… but only for her.

But as they all continued to wait, it was obvious that she was deteriorating quickly.  It was difficult to watch such a strong woman weaken hour by hour.  Dawn stayed by her side right from the moment she got home from school.  She was quite irritated that Max's condition was kept from her, but pushed that aside.  Dawn tried to keep up a cheerful conversation, but it was hard, seeing Max the way she was.  It was getting difficult for Max to respond through the massive spasms that wracked her small frame.  Plus, Max often seemed to confuse Dawn for someone named Jondy…

Max had finally drifted off to sleep again when Dawn turned and saw Buffy watching the two of them.  Dawn looked at her friend, before standing and walking over to her sister.  "If she doesn't get help soon, she's going to die, isn't she," Dawn stated.

Buffy didn't want to respond to that.  "They're hoping she can wait—"

"Isn't she?!" Dawn demanded.

Buffy sighed and finally told her sister the truth, "She's sick, Dawn.  And we don't have anything to help her."

Dawn blinked back the tears that were welling up in her eyes, and asked, "So why aren't you doing anything about it?"

Buffy widened her eyes, shocked at the accusation.  "Dawn, I've been doing everything I can.  I've been at the Magic Box all day, researching—"

"Books," Dawn spat.  "Great.  You'll read her well."

"Dawn—" Buffy warned, irritated that she seemed to be getting the blame.

Dawn just shook her head and snapped, "You're the Slayer.  You're supposed to fight the wrong stuff, save people.  Well, save her!"  The she turned and ran up the stairs.

Buffy sighed and pushed her fingers through her hair.  Unfortunately, Dawn's words had struck a familiar chord within her.  While it was true that the Slayer served to defend the innocent… in this moment, she wasn't the Slayer.  She was Buffy.  And Buffy was powerless.

She turned toward the kitchen as she heard the conversation within grow in intensity and tone.  Logan appeared, moving fast into the living room, closely followed by Joyce.  He leaned over Max and pulled the blanket closer around her shaking body before stroking her hair and saying loudly, "Max?"  There was no response, so he repeated a little louder, "Max!" and gave her a small shake.

Her eyes snapped open.  "Wh-what?" she whispered.

Logan looked apologetic as he told her, "We've got to go now, Max."

"Wh-where?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting in confusion.

He swallowed and said, "Joyce and I are taking you to the hospital, Max."

"No," she breathed.  "No!  I ca-can't.  You pro-promised!"

"I know I did, but… Max – you have to."  Please don't give me that look, he thought.  He almost broke down and took back his words, when faced with the pleading in her eyes.

"No.  Please," she begged.  "Please don't!  Don't make me!"

As Buffy saw the fear race across Max's pale face, Dawn's words came back to her.  Save her, her mind whispered.  Suddenly, an idea occurred to her, and she wondered why she hadn't thought…  "Wait!" she called to them.  "Hold on.  Just… a little longer, please.  I think I've got something."  She rushed over and grabbed Joyce by the arm   "Mom, I need a ride, get your keys."  Joyce quickly grabbed her keys, and the pair raced out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunnydale Memorial was relatively quiet for a Monday night.  Ben had been having a rough time getting one of his patients to take her medication.  It had taken a lot of begging on his part and finally agreeing to add extra portion of lime jell-o to her breakfast tray, but she finally gulped down her pills.  Some days, being an intern sucks. 

He slowly left the room, shutting the door behind him… and gasped as he bumped straight into Buffy.

"Buffy!" he exclaimed.  He eyed her carefully, noting that she looked tense.  "Is your mom okay?"

Buffy looked down the hall, and saw that no one was nearby.  "Uh… she's fine.  She's in the car, actually.  Look, do you have a minute to talk?" she hurried.

Ben blinked, confused, and then nodded.  "Of course."  He took her arm and moved her further away from the room.  "What's wrong?" he asked.

Buffy hesitated, knowing that her request could possibly get him in a hell of a lot of hot water.  "I need a favor…"

"Okay…"

She paused, and then launched into her urgent request, "If you want to say no, that's totally fine, I understand.  I mean, I realize that it's probably not exactly what you do and in the whole hospital arena may not even be exactly kosher, but I'm really not sure who else to ask, and when you came to mind, I'd thought you might be okay with it, since you do want to do that whole hypocritical oath and whatever, but then I thought that you might not since I'm really not sure what all goes into that oath and there's really no other way without—"

"Buffy," he said sharply.  "Breathe."

Buffy inhaled a shaky, nervous breath and nodded.  "Breathe.  Right.  Good idea, that."

He sighed.  "I said 'okay.'  What do you need help with?"

Buffy's next breath was one of intense relief.  "There's this friend of mine…"

"Real friend or hypothetical friend?" he asked.

"Real.  She's staying at my house and she's… sick.  Actually, she's kinda got one foot in the grave."

Ben narrowed his eyes at her, and could see the worry in her face.  "If she's that sick, why didn't you bring her with you?"

"Because… there's kind of, you know, some extenuating circumstances and she really… can't come to a hospital.  Do you think you could come to the house with me?  Take a look at her and see if you can help?"

Ben briefly debated what to do.  He was no doctor.  Or a nurse, even.  There were probably a dozen ethical principles he would be breaking, not to mention all the state and federal laws.  If he helped, he could be kissing his future medical career goodbye.  But if this friend was as sick as Buffy said… 

"What are her symptoms?" he said, turning and walking rapidly down the hall. 

Buffy smiled in relief and followed him.  "Actually, first I need to see if you can get your hands on tryptophan…"

A forged Doctor's Order and a stop by the pharmacy later, Ben grabbed a medical kit and followed Buffy outside.  He smiled at Joyce, who waved at him from the idling car.  They quickly climbed in, and Ben found himself thrown back in his seat as she gunned the engine and peeled out of the loading zone.  "You, uh, look like you're feeling well, Mrs. Summers," he gasped as she took a sharp turn.

Joyce smiled at him in the rearview mirror.  "Oh, yes, very well," she agreed.  "That's kind of you to ask."  She saw that the road ahead of her was clear, and pushed the gas pedal down further.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ben's feet were rooted in the doorway as he stared in shock.  He could only blink as he watched the woman on the couch shake with a violent seizure. 

Buffy indicated Max with one hand and said, "Go ahead.  Do your thing."

Ben's eyes widened.  "Do my thing?  Jesus, I'm not even sure there's a thing a can do."  He whispered to Buffy, "She should be taken to a hospital."

Buffy shook her head.  "It's too dangerous."

His eyes widened.  "And leaving her here, letting her get like this isn't?"

"That's why I brought you.  Help her," Buffy told him.

"How can I help her if I don't even know what's wrong with her?"

Buffy rolled her eyes.  "I told you what's wrong with her.  Seizures.  Hell, I even told you what will help her.  Tryptophan.  Now would you mind…?"

"Yeah.  Tryptophan.  The stuff that was taken off the open market because it was killing people!!"

"Well, you won't have to worry about it killing her if you don't help her!"

"But…"

"Would one of you either do something or get out of here, please?" Logan snapped from Max's side.

Ben nodded, moved over to the couch, and knelt next to the woman.

Logan looked up as the dark-haired man picked up Max's wrist, taking her pulse.  Logan glanced over at Buffy, who nodded, indicating that the man was safe.  Didn't really make Logan feel any less suspicious, though.  Well, someone's got to be suspicious if Max can't be.

Ben glanced up at the shaking woman's face.  Every few spasms, her face contorted in pain.  "How long has she been like this?"

Logan shrugged.  "Like this?  Only a few days.  But I think she's been without her pills for well over a week now."

"Has she been taking anything else?"  Ben asked, putting a hand to Max's face, but jerking back quickly at the heat of her skin.

Logan shook his head.  "Milk, mostly, for a while.  She tried 5-hydroxytryptophan, but had a hard time keeping it down."

Ben nodded and began rummaging through his kit.  "A common side effect, actually."  He paused and looked up at the man in the wheelchair.  "Uh, what did you say your name was?"

Logan grimaced at his lack of manners.  "I'm Logan, and this is Max.  In other circumstances, I'd say I was pleased to meet you."

Ben snorted a laugh as he pulled a saline bag out of the kit he'd brought.  Max was severely dehydrated, and would tolerate the tryptophan injection better with the IV.  "Well, Logan, I wish the circumstances were better, too, but I'll just go ahead and say it's nice to meet you as well.  I'm Ben."

"Ben," Max murmured as she struggled to open her eyes.  She opened them slightly… and then they bolted open as she jerked backwards, her face filling with fear.  "No!" she shouted.

Logan tried to put a calming hand on her arm, but, even as weak as she was, she tossed it off like it was a fly.  "Max…" he said, concerned.

Max quickly wrestled herself away from the IV needle Ben tried to place in her arm.  "Get away from me!"

He looked at Buffy and shouted, "Help me hold her down!"

Buffy stepped over and grasped Max by the shoulders, holding her down on the couch.

"Beast!  Demon!  Buffy, kill it!" Max yelled, trying to wrest away from the hands restraining her.  Her arms shook violently, but Logan grabbed one hand, and held it still.

Ben hesitated, surprised at the woman's words.

"Ben!" Buffy snapped.  "Do it!"

Ben broke out of his reverie and quickly placed the IV needle in a vein.  He then picked up the syringe, pulled off the cap, and injected the tryptophan solution in a second vein.

Max growled at him, and glared at Buffy.  But within a few seconds, the shaking slowed, and was reduced to trembles. 

Buffy smiled, glad to see that something was working for a change.  She slowly let go of Max's shoulders and looked at Ben, who was checking Max's pulse again.

Ben couldn't help but be amazed at how quickly the effects of the seizure were leaving Max.  Sure, small shudders were still making their way through the woman's thin frame, but they were nothing compared to the massive quakes that he had seen when he first arrived… five minutes ago?  Ten?  One thing about medicine, he thought as he touched the warm skin of Max's face again, it sure is a good way to make time fly.  He smiled as the fog began to lift from Max's eyes and she tried to focus.

Max blinked a couple of times, and as her vision cleared, she could see the worried faces around her.  She looked down at the hand grasping hers, and looked up into Logan's relieved face.

"Hey, you," he said softly, his voice full of emotion.

"Hey, you," she repeated in the same tone.  She glanced warily over at Ben, who looked… like a man.  But she would have sworn a few moments ago, she had first seen a woman, and then a… a creature.  She shook the images away, knowing that at the state she was in, she really couldn't trust anything that her confused mind had told her.

"Thanks.  All's good," she told him.

He slowly stood, a little unnerved at the rapid recovery with a simple injection.  "I, uh, brought you something else," he said, reaching into his bag.  He pulled out a small bottle and handed it to her.  "Hopefully this should hold you over until your other source comes through."

Max grinned.  "Thanks again."

Ben nodded.  "Anytime.  Just… please don't let things get this bad next time, okay?"

Max laughed softly.  Her hands jerked again, and she glared at them, irritated that they weren't behaving quite as fast as the rest of her body.

"Do you know what causes the seizures?" Ben asked curiously.

Max narrowed her eyes at him, not trusting his question.  "Bad genes."

Ben shook his head, confused.  "A genetic condition?  So this runs in your family?"

Max looked at Logan, who also was beginning to frown at the line of questioning.  "You could say that.  Why do you want to know?"

Ben shrugged.  "Just curious.  I haven't seen a whole lot of seizures during my time at the hospital.  And nothing quite like yours."

"What can I say?  I'm unique,"  Max said glibly.  She looked at the IV in her arm, and then yawned. 

Ben smiled at the yawn.  "You're probably exhausted.  I'll just run through the rest of my check, and then leave you alone so you can get some sleep."

Max's grin fell away, and she narrowed her eyes at him.  "You don't need to tune the engine.  The oil change was enough."  When Ben opened his mouth, not understanding what she was trying to say, she amended, "I'll be fine.  I'd prefer if you left me alone."

Ben swallowed, a little unnerved by the look in her eyes, and looked at Buffy, who chuckled.  "Since it sounds like the bitch is back, I'd suggest you humor her.  We can keep an eye on her, Ben."

"Well, if you say so… I guess I'll just pack up then."  Ben decided that might actually be safer than sticking around.  He quickly gathered his things, said his goodbyes, and left with Joyce.

Buffy turned to say something to Max, and saw that she had already fallen asleep.  So had Logan, sitting by her side, still holding her hand.  She smiled, and decided that it was her turn to make her leave.  She turned, and saw Dawn standing by the stairs.

She walked over to her little sister, who looked at her for several long seconds before flinging herself at Buffy, grasping her in a enormous embrace.  "Oof!" Buffy exclaimed as the wind was nearly knocked out of her.

"Thank you!" Dawn said tearfully.  "Buffy, I knew you could do it.  If anyone could do it, it'd be you.  You're the best."

Buffy clutched her sister close to her.  Some days, she just needed to hear those words.  Especially when they came from Dawn.

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February 20, 2001

Buffy stretched as she walked down the stairs.  She couldn't believe how late she'd slept.  I must have been more worn out than I'd thought.  But, then again,  it has been a little crazy around here lately.  She walked into the kitchen, and stopped.

Logan was sitting on the counter next to the stove, making an omelet, talking with Joyce.  Max was nowhere to be seen.  "Good morning," Buffy greeted, slightly confused.

"Ah, good morning, " Logan replied.  "Want an omelet?"

"Uh… no."  She paused, but nobody said anything, so she asked, "Where's Max?"

Logan shrugged, concentrating on his omelet.  "She was going a little stir crazy, so I think she left about two… maybe three a.m.  I don't know."

"You don't know?" Buffy exclaimed incredulously.  "What do you mean you don't know?"

Logan looked at Buffy and shrugged.  "I don't exactly keep a tracking collar on her.  She's a big girl."

"But—"

The kitchen door opened and Max waltzed in.  "Hey.  Good morning," she greeted the group happily, holding up a small bag.  "Raked in the nickels last night."

"How are you feeling?" Joyce asked the girl, even though the vast improvement was obvious.  She walked over and automatically raised a hand to feel for fever.

Max easily dodged the movement and slid over to the refrigerator.  "I'm fine.  You can stop doing that now," Max said as she leaned in to rummage for food.

"I can't help it," Joyce said, smiling.  "It's in my genes."

Max looked out of the refrigerator and gave the woman a quick, brilliant grin, before going back to her search.  "Do we have any burgers left or were they all incinerated?"

"I can make you an omelet, if you want," Logan offered.

"No," she said distractedly.  "I'm looking for something a little… ooo!  Chicken!"  She pulled out a container with some drumsticks and proceeded to begin chewing on one before she shut the door.

"Suit yourself," he shrugged in response, using a spatula to lift up an edge of an omelet.

Joyce rolled her eyes and walked over to a cabinet, pulling out a plate and handing it to Max pointedly.

Max smiled again and swallowed.  "Thanks."  She took the drumsticks out of the container and placed them on the plate, then hoisted herself up on the edge of the counter next to the refrigerator, across the kitchen from Logan.

Buffy narrowed her eyes first at Max, then at Logan.  The pair seemed to be all but completely ignoring each other.  "Are you two mad at each other or something?"

Max and Logan looked at her, surprised.  "No.  Why?" they asked in unison.

"Because… you… when… she… argh!" she grumbled, frustrated, realizing that everything was back to normal.  Didn't mean she had to like it, though.  She could hear her mother laughing as Buffy huffed under her breath, "Could the two of you be any more lame?"

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Giles was rummaging in his pockets for the keys to the Magic Shop when he heard the phone begin to ring within.  "Oh, blast," he said.  "Nobody ever calls when I'm here, but the moment I step out for a bloody jelly-filled donut…" he grumbled in frustration at the phone continued its frantic peal.  He finally found his keys, quickly turned the lock and dashed for the receiver.  "Hello?"

He was answered with an earful of static.  Then a faint, tinny, "Hello?  Rupert?"

"Yes.  This is Rupert."  Giles suddenly recognized the voice behind the static.  "Maurice?  Is that you?"

Another crackle, then, "Yeah. It's me.  Sorry about the connection, but the storms are pretty b— now."

Giles laughed.  He had never been able to get a good phone connection to Madagascar before.  Why should now be any different?  "Have you found something, Mau—"

"We've made progress on your problem," Maurice interrupted and answered simultaneously.  The line erupted in another barrage of static, until only a few words came through.  "But—  now."

"What?"  Giles raised his voice, trying to be heard over the noise.  "Maurice, I didn't quite catch that."

"—can't worry about that now.  You— else."

"Maurice?"

The static became an angry roar through the line.  "Don't— Giles.  You have— it— hear me?  Don't—"

As the interference increased, he could hear faint words on the other end of the line, increasing in urgency, before the line finally went dead.  Giles stared at the receiver in shock, almost unable to believe what he had just heard.

Maurice had said something about "not killing the chimera…"

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Coming… uh… later: Chapter 8 – Acceptance