Most of All

by LadyTenebrion

Spike died in an honourable way, and received commendation in the afterlife because of it. One problem; Spike doesn't want to stay dead. But, when a hay-wire spell is executed, he finds he's got a lot more on his plate then he bargained for.

3. 3

Most Of All

:: CHAPTER THREE ::

"So tell me, Elizabeth, what do you want most of all from your experience with us?" The woman at the forefront of the interview panel smiled, falsely at Buffy, who attempted what she hoped looked like a smile back.

"Well, I hope to gain a--" her mind went blank. She tried to think of something, anything, but nothing came. "A, um,--" she tried again, her eyes bulging at her own inability to construct a sentence. And it had all been good up until this point. At least, in her mind it had. As well as it could have gone. She'd answered all the questions with poise and articulation and everything Willow had taught her, but now she could think of a simple reason as to why she wanted the damn job.

She had to say something soon. The panel were looking at her, watching her with expectation.

"Miss Summers?" One of the other panel members asked.

She would have to lie. "Oh, um, sorry. Excuse me, please. I was just about to sneeze, I could feel it coming on." The woman raised her eyebrows. "I have a cold."

"In the beginning of summer?" Asked one of the other members.

"Hay fever." She spurted out without thinking. Nice thinking, Buffy. Inwardly she was kicking herself.

"Hay fever?" The lady scowled at her. "Well," she continued, shifting the papers in front of her and arching her fingers together, "thank you, Miss Summers. I--"

"Bloody hell!" Buffy shouted as she nearly toppled backwards off her chair, and jumped to her feet. "It worked!" She grinned and blinked, as though using hers eyes for the first time in a long while.

"Please control yourself!" The woman screeched impatiently.

She breathed in the air and clutched a hand to her chest. "I am back," she said, still grinning, "with a beat!"