A/N: Thanks again for the reviews. I love constructive criticism, but there are a few things I need to point out. If anyone thinks Giles is a complete do-gooder, check out "The Gift" (S5) and the 2nd half of S7 (esp. "Lies My Parents Told Me"), or even "The Dark Age" (S2). Same goes for any characters that might seem a little "harsh." I'm sure I could name a few episodes for reference.
And people, this is fanfiction! Don't take it so seriously. : ) I'll try to update ASAP.
That dream again.
She was in the school basement with him. Just the two of them, all alone.
The walls rumbled, shook. And there she was, trying to make him understand.
But the words wouldn't come out. A part of her knew that she'd done this before, that she'd done it every single night, again and again, till the wee hours of morning, when she finally fell into a dreamless slumber.
And she also knew that in reality, she had explained. She had told him in the very end. So why could she never speak in these dreams?
Of course, the fact that he hadn't believed her didn't help. One of the few times she'd told the truth and he hadn't even believed her.
But back to the dream. The ceiling was falling in. She could see pieces of the bright blue sky. She had to hurry; time was running out. She opened her mouth…but no sound escaped. She couldn't speak.
Damn her, speak!
But all she could do was look at those pained blue eyes, trying to mask disappointment, never once judging her. Telling her to go. But all the while pleading silently for her words, for some final admission.
And every night, like a coward, she'd run. She'd run like she always did. Run like she had when it had mattered, when it had counted.
Time to break the cycle. Even though she couldn't tell him, even though her tongue wouldn't work, she stayed. She held his hand and watched both of them burst into flame. So familiar, yes.
And then the world tumbled down around them.
***
She awoke with a start, her heart pounding, the blood rushing in her arteries and veins. She felt almost feverish, like there had really been flames…again…despite the fact that she was on something cold and hard.
The dream had been different, different from the other dreams, different from the reality. And it had left her with a strange sense of peace.
Peace? From burning to a crisp?
Slowly, very slowly, Buffy realized she was not in her own bed at home. No…after all, her warm, safe bed had gone done with her house, with Sunnydale. But she wasn't at the motel either, in the room she shared with Dawn.
She was in a dark establishment, lying curled up and shivering under a small round table. Squinting, she could see the silhouettes of other such tables around the room, with the shadowy shapes of stools on top of them. And she could see the glowing red exit signs.
She was in a bar. A closed bar. And was that pale morning light filtering through the boarded-up windows?
With that realization, Buffy became aware of a massive hangover. Her back hurt. Her head hurt. Every muscle in her body was cramped and hurting.
And cold. Don't forget cold.
She smiled a bitter little smile to herself. Ah, but she'd gotten drunk last night, hadn't she? Probably passed out in this grimy little establishment. And the barkeeper had not even noticed her as he closed up shop.
Funny, really. And to think, this was the first time she'd ever passed out drunk. Although not the first time that she'd awoken with a hangover and a little too many bitter musings.
She suddenly wished that she was drunk again. With a mild jolt of surprise, she realized that there was nothing she wouldn't give to be drunk and setting captive kittens free.
Or maybe, if she could do it over again, even join the game. Dawnie or Willow and Tara would probably have wanted a new cat.
"You play for kittens?!"
"So, who's gonna advance me a tiny tabby, get me started? Come on, someone's gotta stake me."
"I'll do it! What, you thought I was just gonna let that lie there?"
She smiled, despite herself. So maybe she was still a little drunk. That had been a lot of alcohol she'd had last night. Something like five shots per drink.
But she was not drunk enough, oh no. She'd once asked why he would drink so much when the vamp ho had dumped him. He'd said that it dulled the pain and made him forget. For a while.
Buffy stumbled to her feet and felt her way to the locked-up bar. Smashing through the locks with Slayer strength, she felt around in the darkness and closed her small hand around the neck of a cold glass bottle. The first of many.
Success.
She smiled sardonically and proposed a silent toast in the empty pub.
***
"Come in," he called. He rubbed his eyes, groping for the spectacles on the table by the bed. Donning the pair of glasses, the man blinked several times.
"Hey."
"Dawn," he replied. "What are you doing here, so early in the morning?"
The teen fidgeted. "Buffy didn't come back last night," she blurted out in a rush.
"Dear Lord. Why didn't you tell me sooner? You don't suppose some—"
"Giles, Buffy's an adult. She doesn't have a curfew. I was going to tell you, but I thought she'd just get back really late like she did night before last, only I fell asleep and when I woke up she still wasn't back. Maybe she went out again or something, or got lost, I don't know. Should we go look for her?"
He blinked. "Could you repeat that?"
Dawn sighed and took a deep breath.
***
"Xander, I'm not saying this again."
"Please, Will, we gotta do something," the dark-haired man pleaded.
She sat on the side of the bed, her head resting on her hands. "Xander, I already explained last night. It's impossible, not to mention morally wrong. Don't you remember what happened with Buffy two years ago when we tried it?"
How could he not? The tune was burned into his memory. He could almost still hear her lyrics ringing in his head…
There was no pain
No fear, no doubt
Till they pulled me out—
"Yeah, but that was a different situation," he argued, trying to drown out the blonde Slayer's echo of a voice. Too late to think about it anymore. The deed had been done.
And from there, everything had gone downhill.
"Will, that was different. Buffy was in Heaven."
The green eyes she turned on him were less than friendly.
"Xander." A thinly veiled warning.
"Hello people, Evil Dead, remember? As in evil." Yet the words lacked conviction even as they left his mouth.
The redheaded witch gave him a small, tired smile. "Not quite."
He sighed, dropping to join her on the side of the bed.
"I know that, Will. It's just…we gotta do something. For Buffy."
She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I know, Xander. I know."
"She deserves to be happy."
The two friends, sworn buddies since play-group, sat side by side on the bed, lost in thought.
***
For the second time that day, she awoke, cold and uncomfortable, lying on a very hard surface. For a moment she thought she was lying on a slab of stone in a very different place, but that theory was discounted when she blindly reached out and felt nothing.
The bright sun shining behind her closed lids was also a giveaway. As was the very loud voice speaking to her and the very large and very warm hand that was shaking her awake.
"What?" she groaned, the hangover taking affect as soon as she squinted at her surroundings. She was in the bar. The same bar she'd passed out in last night. The same bar from which she had "borrowed" several bottles of whiskey.
Hmm, whiskey. It burned just like the first time I had it.
"Hey, you alright?"
She nodded, snapping out of it and focusing finally on the burly man in front of her. The bartender.
"Yeah, I'm fine." She scrambled to her feet, instantly regretting the quick movement. She fought down the wave of nausea as it threatened to overwhelm her stomach and spew the stolen liquor all over the grimy floor.
The concern on the bartender's sweaty face was now 100% annoyance.
"Who are you and what are you doing here?"
Buffy cringed. Time to put on an extra-bright smile.
"Well, you see…last night…I kinda got drunk…"
***
"Is there nothing we can do?" he asked, desperate now. He had begun pacing half an hour ago, and Willow was rather concerned that a groove would soon be worn through the dirty carpet. And Kennedy should have been back half an hour ago. Training didn't take that long.
She shook her head.
Xander suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. "Anya!"
Willow's head snapped up. "What? Where?" She looked around the small, empty room. No sign of her best friend's ex. She bit her lip, not daring to face him. "Xander, she's not here."
He sighed, once again sitting down by her side. "I know that, Will. That's not what I meant. But remember the whole vengeance demon deal? Buffy's had it pretty rough. So what if she was to…say, summon a vengeance demon or something?"
Willow shook her head again. "Xander, you know we can't do that. Remember Skanky Undead Me from the wish-verse that Cordy made? There's no telling what could happen."
The man nodded. "Yeah, yeah, of course. You're right. I don't know what I was thinking."
They sat there in silence for a while.
"Where's Kennedy? She should have—"
"Will, do you still have that thingie D'Hoffryn gave you? His talisman?" Xander said abruptly, not even noticing that he had just interrupted the redheaded witch.
"What? I mean, yes, I think so." A little surprised, she opened a drawer and took out a small pouch. Placing it on the bed, she removed plastic packets of dried plants of some sort, a handful of multi-colored crystals, and finally, the medallion she was looking for.
"That little thing's it? How's it supposed to work? I mean, do you have to say some sort of hocus-pocus or what?"
She shrugged. "Sometimes. Like, if you don't really have a reason for calling up vengeance, you kinda need an incantation to contact D'Hoffryn. But if you do and the talisman senses it, it'll open the portal upon physical contact. Kinda cool, really…and why are you asking this?"
He stared at the small ornament, then shrugged, dismissing it with a casual wave of his hand.
"Just curious. It doesn't seem like much."
The redheaded witch nodded, beginning to slide the other things back into the pouch. Healing crystal, healing crystal, sage…
The door opened.
"Hey, Willow, I'm back! Xander." The recently-called Slayer nodded to him in greeting.
He smiled and glanced quickly back at Willow. "I'll leave you two alone now," he said with a wink of his one good eye.
Xander made a quick exit.
Willow didn't notice that she had never put the talisman back. Of course, that wasn't entirely her fault; the other girl in the room might have served as a slight distraction.
All thoughts of Xander's uncharacteristic behavior left her mind.
***
She cracked open the door.
"Buffy! Where were you?"
She smiled sheepishly, shrugging a little. Closing the door gingerly, she walked stiffly to the bed, trying to ignore the multitude of eyes on her. She'd wanted to sneak in, hope Dawn was out, and catch a few zzz's.
That apparently wasn't exactly what was going to happen. They were here, probably getting ready to look for her.
"Hello? Earth to Buffy!"
Trying to repress a sigh along with a few choice expletives, Buffy turned around slowly, hoping the combined effects of hangovers and sleeping funny wouldn't be all that noticeable to her friends.
"Hi guys. Um, I uh…didn't get much sleep last night. So…could you…did you have breakfast yet?"
The redheaded witch frowned.
Xander did have a point.
Then she shook her head, unnoticed.
That still doesn't make it right. That's not an excuse.
The Watcher began to clean his glasses in that oh-so-predictable way. And Faith, Faith had a tiny little smile playing at the corner of her lips. A sad and ironic little smile.
She could smell the hard liquor.
"Buffy, we just wanted to…to make sure you were all right," Giles said politely. "You didn't come back last night."
She forced another smile. "Well, I stayed out. And I'm just peachy."
Dawn also frowned, staring quizzically at her sister. Was that whiskey she was smelling, all over Buffy's clothes, all over Buffy?
"Uh, of course. Shall we go, then?" Giles shot looks at Willow, Faith, Xander, and Dawn. "Best let Buffy catch her rest."
Unspoken questions filled the air. But Willow and Faith followed the Watcher out with only curious backward glances. There would be time for questions later.
Dawn's frown only deepened. It was definitely whiskey. She'd remember that poignant scent anywhere. And she also knew quite well that Buffy and alcohol were very non-mix-y things.
And why whiskey, of all things? Wasn't beer bad enough?
Hmm. Sinking deeper into the river of Denial, are we now?
Shaking her head slightly, the teen took her own exit. Tonight, after her sister received her obligatory couple hours of sleep, Dawn would give her hell. But not now.
Buffy let out a deep sigh, before dropping face-first onto the somewhat lumpy bed.
Ah, a soft comforter. That was always nice. Way preferable to sleeping on cold, hard surfaces. See? Another perk of normalcy.
It took her several minutes to realize that not everyone had left. She turned her head toward the wall.
"Go 'way," she mumbled, flopping an arm for emphasis. Stupid Potential…uh, Slayer. She'd probably overlooked one of them…again. Why did they always have to hang around, getting in everyone's way? And couldn't the girl see she needed rest?
"Buff."
It wasn't one of the new Slayers. The invectives died on her lips.
Grudgingly, she rolled over and stared blearily up at one of her best friends. She owed him at least some semblance of civility.
"Please go away, Xander."
He smiled the goofy Xander-smile she could always count on. But even the reliable Xander-smile was different. He looked at least ten years older than just a year ago.
Maybe the eye-patch had something to do with it.
"Buff, we really need to talk."
She rolled back to face the wall.
He sighed. "I can't say that I know exactly what you're going through, Buff. 'Cause everyone's different. But I can sympathize, maybe a little more than the rest of them."
She heard the sound of something small, hard, and metallic being set down on the bedside table.
"I know you don't really want to talk. I don't blame you. So go ahead and stew, Buff, or actually do something about it."
She heard his footsteps move away. And then the gentle click of the door.
She was truly alone.
***
She couldn't sleep.
It had been what, an hour? Five? The cheap clock was flashing red numerals at her, waiting to be reset. The drapes were shut, so she couldn't tell where the sun was in its path across the sky. Not that it mattered.
Not that any of it mattered.
Her hangover had passed, leaving her with a deeper sense of depression than she had started out with.
I wonder if there's anything alcoholic in the mini-fridge?
Getting the energy to roll up into a sitting position, Buffy was vaguely aware that she had to look terrible. No shower, no makeup, no sleep. Rumpled clothes, hair…
She plodded wearily to the small, grimy window and pulled open the drapes. A bit too hard, for the cloth ripped from the curtain rod.
Oops.
The light made her look away. So bright to her eyes. Burning in its intensity.
She happened to glance back in the direction of the bed, at something very sparkly on the small table. It was round and gave off a blue-green glow as the rays of sunlight struck it at an angle.
What's that?
Now that her curiosity was piqued, the Slayer warily made her way back to the small bedside table. She picked up the medallion, which was surprisingly heavy for its size.
Some kind of trinket. An amulet?
She dropped it like it was on fire. Amulets were bad. Very, very bad things. As a wave of anger crested within her, the Slayer realized that the…thing…was glowing.
Amulets are bad. Glowing amulets are worse.
Buffy's mouth dropped open as a beam of blue light shot out from the side, revealing…none other than Anya's former boss.
"You!"
He seemed a little lost, looking around the small room. Then D'Hoffryn's gaze finally settled on the petite blonde Slayer. And he broke into a smile.
"How are you…Buffy, was it? If you don't mind me saying, you've got a few more bags under your eyes than the last time we met. You know, Buffy, you should take better care of your complexion. Wouldn't want to age prematurely, such a pretty young girl as you."
TBC