DISCLAIMER: I have to apologize in advance for the length of this chapter. If you've learned anything about me from these stories, it's that I love to write dialogue. Or as my master Joss Whedon says, I like to make with the yak-yak. So I hope you don't mind indulging my love of banter just once more. We're almost done, folks…

Julian knocked on the open doorway of the examining room as a doctor removed a blood pressure monitor from around Shaun's arm. "Well, what's the verdict, Doctor Dwyer?"

"He'll live," she said, her sparkling blue eyes smiling at Shaun. "I'd say our Mr. Riley is as fit as a Farogee."

"Is that…good?" Shaun asked, hesitantly.

"It's very good," Julian replied.

"Just remember to rest, drink plenty of fluids," Dr. Dwyer advised, "Non-alcoholic, preferably, and we'll see you in a week for your check-up."

"Thanks, doc."

Julian stood aside to let the doctor exit and entered the room. "So…how does it feel to be the hero of the hour?"

"Bit headache-y," Shaun answered, lightly massaging the base of his skull. "How's Sara?"

"She's fine. Since she was released from the hospital yesterday, she's the new pet project for the Parapsychology Department. Once they learned she'd actually been possessed by a spiritual entity, they couldn't wait to poke and prod her." Shaun looked taken aback. "In a strictly scientific sense," Julian clarified. "At any rate, she's a bit beaten and battered but she'll survive. As she always does."

"Except for when she's crashing in a remote part of the Alps."

"Yes, well, circumstances dictated. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course," Shaun said.

"Mr. Riley, given your contribution in this past weekend's events, I would be remiss not to offer an…extension of your provisional operative status."

"You want to offer me a job?" he scoffed.

"It's certainly not an easy life, I don't recommend it. But you've shown you have the potential."

Shaun rubbed his arm and considered the possibility he'd pondered before. Maybe this was what he was meant to do, all his life…and he'd be doing it with her. Still, it didn't seem like something he should jump into lightly.

"You know, I'm really flattered by the offer, Julian. And I don't want to say no absolutely, but for right now…I just think I should take a break from the undead for a while. Y'know, I've got Ed to go back home to and he can be a handful all on his own."

"That's understandable. But you do have the Council's utmost gratitude."

"What about a paycheck?"

"You'll have to discuss that with Payroll."

"Ah, I see." There was an uncomfortable silence, and Shaun decided to give it a shot. "West, one more question about what happened at the inn…"

"Only one question?"

"I know, right? Look, when I saw the ghost of my Mum at the inn, she was…unharmed. Like she'd never been bitten by a zombie and I'd never shot her. But when Sara and I saw Will…he wasn't pretty."

"Well, in some cultures, it's believed that the method of death affects one's appearance in the afterlife. Your mother's non-decaying appearance could be attributed to the fact that she was killed by someone who loved her and didn't want her to suffer. Unlike Will."

"So…she's okay?"

"I'd say she's doing just fine now. Thanks to you."

"Good. That's…that's good." Shaun stood to his feet, feeling much stronger than he had just moments before.

"Oh, and if you happen to be looking for Sara, there's a definite possibility that you'll find her in Conference Room 2 on the third floor. Having a sit-down with Simmonds so if she's in a bad mood, you'll know why."

"Thanks, Jules." He nodded at the handler, and began to walk past him toward the door. Suddenly, Julian was taken off guard as Shaun spun round on one heel and threw his arms around him in a massive hug. Bewildered, but only for a moment, Julian grinned in spite of himself and patted Shaun on the back.

Sunlight flooded into the conference room as Michael sat at the head of the large rectangular table and intently stared at a stack of papers. Sara sat in the chair to his left and nervously tapped a pen against the table's surface, ceasing abruptly when she received a reproachful look from Michael. It had been several months since she'd been in this room, in his presence, and she'd forgotten how very small and intimidating it could feel.

"Well," Michael began cheerfully, "I'm afraid our legal options are rather limited. The Velkor demon which was responsible for three of the deaths is dead, the malevolent spirit which caused the other deaths has been contained, the death of the reanimate workers at the inn can be argued as self-defense, and…we all know what happened to Pru."

Sara looked self-consciously at her hands. The Council had absolved her of any wrongdoing in Pru's death, but she couldn't help feeling somewhat responsible. "What about Evie?" she asked, looking for a change of subject.

"Miss Fairfax will be compensated for the damage to her inn."

"I beg your pardon?"

"She's a fragile woman who made a most unfortunate mistake and who is now suffering a very serious case of post-traumatic stress disorder. No judge at the Old Bailey would find fault with her."

"I don't believe this," Sara gasped. "She caused all of this, she almost got us killed, and she gets off with a slap on the wrist? No, not even that. And then she gets a sizable deposit in her bank account?"

"The Council has already ruled on this matter."

"It's bollocks, Michael, and you know it. If we were in the States…"

"If we were in the States, you would have been dishonorably discharged for dereliction of duty, involving a civilian in an official investigation, and assaulting a superior," he stated flatly. "Of course, these are all mere allegations. You can deny them, if you like."

She glanced at him sheepishly. "Would it help?"

"Not in the least." He closed the file with finality. "Sara, I am not averse to unorthodox methods when they get the job done. But the risks you've been taking continually outweigh the gains that you've made. I've been called upon time and again to go to bat for you, you went through five handlers in as many months, and God knows how many enemies Will Collins made in his persistent efforts to defend you."

"If you're firing me, just say so," she pouted. "Send me off to the old Slayers' retirement home in Tuscany."

"Sadly, no," he replied, with a heavy sigh. "This sacred calling of yours tends to be a 'till death do us part' contract. And Julian, for reasons I have yet to comprehend, wishes to continue as your handler."

"I foresee a 'but' in that sentence…"

"But in future, when you are on a mission, you will do things by the book, you will proceed with caution, and you will not destroy any historic properties unless it is absolutely necessary. Is that clear?"

"Clear as vodka. I mean, yes…sir."

"So feel free to take a few days, talk to Daisy about finding some new accommodations. In the meantime, we've booked you a room at the Regency Park. Get some rest, and we'll see you back here bright and early on Thursday night, Miss Cross. Raid on a vamp nest in Camden; we can use the back-up."

"Sorry…'Miss Cross'? I thought I was still 'Helen' within these walls."

"Oh, didn't I tell you? We've worked out everything with the Russians. Turns out the Geldfuhrung you killed had been embezzling large amounts of money into his own Swiss bank account. In their opinion, you did them a favor. Thus, they've called off the contract on your life. We'll straighten out your paperwork and let everyone around here know about the change, but in the meantime…congratulations."

"Wait, what about all my friends and family that you sent cold and impersonal form letters to regarding my oh-so-sudden and tragic death?"

"Already taken care of," he assured, waving his hand dismissively. "The letters go out tomorrow morning, saying you were miraculously found alive at a nunnery in Bavaria with a slight case of amnesia."

"A nunnery?"

"Our Lady of Intermittent Sorrows. Not a terribly picturesque place, but on Thursday nights, they do a wonderful pepper steak."

"Well, that figures. The one time I get a good passport photo, I have to trade it in."

He stood up from the table, crossed and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Welcome back, Sara."

She sighed heavily, then looked up at Simmonds – still a stiff, but a likeable stiff sometimes – and smiled. "It's good to be back. So no more postings to Outer Mongolia then?"

"I would consider allowing you to stay in London, but I'm not sure if you would be more or less likely to get into trouble if you knew I was close by," he stated.

"I know you pretend to be ashamed of me, Michael…"

"No, that's quite genuine."

After parting ways with Simmonds, Sara strolled through the Council halls toward the library and was stopped short by a familiar voice from a conference room off the hallway. She peeked inside the doorway and saw a figure cross its arms and glare at the sterile walls and art deco furniture.

"Just look at what they've done. This is my office," Will's ghost complained.

"It was your office, sunshine," she reminded, walking to stand beside him. "I know you prefer oak shelves lined with musty books, but they had to do a bit of redecorating after the whole business with Sakkari."

Will sighed resignedly. "I still don't like it."

"Feel free to go back and haunt the halls of the Eden River Inn if you want."

"Oh, no thanks. Had enough of that place to last me an entire afterlife." He reclined casually into a nearby chair. "Everything go well with Director Simmonds?"

"Surprisingly well. You know how he's usually condescending and aloof, but today he was just…aloof."

"I think he's finally warming up to you."

"I think you might be right." She perched on the edge of the table beside him. "I wasn't sure if I'd see you again."

"Well, I'm like a bad penny. I always turn up."

"So…care to give me an explanation?"

"Of what?"

"Oh, the little matter of Shaun being pronounced dead, bright flash of light, and bang, he's alive again?"

"Oh, that. You see, when Shaun risked his life to save yours, his selfless act broke Maggie's curse."

"How's that?"

"Because it contradicted her vengeance. He set an example of a man making the ultimate sacrifice for the woman he loves." Will grimaced at the thought of it. "Sickeningly syrupy, if you ask me, but there you have it."

"So he died to save me?" she asked, her eyes wide. All her limbs began to tingle, and she felt frightened and overwhelmed with emotion all at once.

"I'm not sure why you're surprised. He's rather made a habit of putting his life on the line for you."

"Maybe, but he shouldn't have to. Risking life and limb is in my job description, not his."

"Don't you think that's up to him?"

She shook her head and cast her eyes downward. "I don't deserve that kind of devotion."

"I would argue that Shaun doesn't, either, but that hasn't stopped you for a second." He picked a flower from the table's centerpiece and began removing its petals. "And it might make a nice change if you'd fall for someone who wasn't destined to break your heart."

"You're forgetting Shaun already broke my heart with the whole Emma thing."

"In fairness, he did think you were dead at the time."

"Details, details."

"But he doesn't seem the kind of man to make the same mistake twice," he said, handing her the petal-less flower. "You should probably give him the benefit of the doubt."

"Well…" she sighed, twirling the flower in her fingers. "He did tell me I had a textbook arse."

"Encyclopedia Britannica, maybe," Will muttered, at which Sara delivered a swift kick to his shin. "Ow! At any rate, my dear Sara, there aren't many men in this world willing to put up with your particular quirks and eccentricities."

"You did," she observed.

"I was paid to do so. Shaun's volunteering for the job. For that alone, the man deserves a medal. Or at least a sizable portion of hazard pay." He got up and walked to the door. "Time for me to be going, I think."

"What? Why? Where?"

"Three very good questions. But you already know the answers. You don't need me anymore, Sara."

"No," she protested, rushing to block the door. "Of course I need you. How am I supposed to do this without you?"

"You'll be fine."

She looked into his eyes and there was still warmth in them, despite his corpse-like nature. The full weight of how much she'd missed him seemed to hit her all at once. It had been so good to have him by her side again; it was safe, familiar. "I'm never going to see you again, am I?"

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic. I'll always be here," he said, touching her forehead, "whenever you need me."

Without a word, she threw her arms around the apparition and squeezed tightly.

"Hey, I thought you weren't going to hug me," he protested.

"I changed my mind."

He stroked her hair with his grey, decaying hand. "Well, don't take this the wrong way, Sara, but I hope I don't see you for a long time."

"Yeah, me too." They separated, shared a smile before she watched him walk off down the hallway.

Suddenly, Nicola appeared at her side and made Sara jump. "Oi, oi, you lucky slayer! Comin' down the pub tonight? Julian owes me a number of rounds and I fully intend to collect."

"I dunno…"

"But the guy from the comic shop's going to be there, the one I told you about. He has some weird Welsh name, Ioan something. But he's really cute and nice…"

"Oh, Nic, I'm exhausted. I think I'm going to go to the hotel, take a shower and sleep for a month. But I do appreciate the invite."

"Ah, well, I tried," Nic sighed. "All for nought, anyway. It's like you're genetically predisposed to only have relationships with men who work for the Council."

"Am not."

"Are, too. Grayson, Will, Shaun…"

"Will? Please! I'd hardly call one drunken night in Barcelona a relationship."

Nic cocked an eyebrow. "Actually I was referring to your professional relationship, the fact that you two worked together so well for so many years."

"Oh," Sara blushed.

"But go on, I'm intrigued. Some Spanish moonlight, massive amounts of Sangria, and then what?"

"Y'know, forget I said anything. Forget that you know me, forget that you speak English…"

At that moment, Shaun appeared in the doorway and got the distinct feeling he was interrupting an important conversation. "Hey! I was just leaving the hospital. Julian told me I could find you here."

Nic threw an inquisitive glance at Sara. "I know you like to play rough, hon, but did you have to put the boy in the hospital?"

Sara rolled her eyes and tilted her head toward the bespectacled librarian. "Shaun, this is Nicola. She's our Council archivist, and she pretends to be my friend."

"Pleasure to meet you," Shaun greeted, offering his hand.

"Likewise. Well, I'll leave you two alone." Nic paused to silently mouth the word "Cute!" over Shaun's shoulder before moving on down the hallway.

Sara approached Shaun and placed her hand on his chest. "All systems go? Dr. Dwyer gave you the all-clear?"

"Yep. She says I'm fit as a Farogee….whatever that means."

"That's really good. You on your way out?"

"I dunno, I hear there's some good poking and prodding to be had in the Parapsychology Department."

"That is my own special brand of fun, and you are not invited. However, I can walk you to the door." She took his hand and interlaced her fingers with his, starting off down the hallway.

"So, Miss Wellesley, what did Michael have to say?"

"Oh, the usual stern admonitions. Apparently, I'm expected to behave myself from now on."

"Well, that is unfortunate."

"Yeah, I know. Anyway, the Velkor demon's dead, Maggie's spirit has been contained, and Evelyn is in for a very large therapy bill."

"Just another day at the office then?"

"Pretty much. And by the way, I'm Sara again."

Shaun stopped short and did a double take. "Sara …didn't die in a plane crash?"

"No, actually Sara was in a Bavarian nunnery with a slight case of amnesia."

"Bavaria. Niiiiice. I spent a very eventful fortnight there once. Bloody Hefeweizen."

"Lush."

"So why the resurrection?"

"Apparently Michael straightened everything out with the Russians and they called off the hit. So I'm back."

"Excellent," he replied. Then he seemed to digest what that might mean, and glanced up at her hopefully. "Back…to stay? Here in London?"

"If I'm given the option, yeah."

His eyebrow twitched and he leaned in closer. "So what does that mean for us?"

"I think…it's just…I'm not that good at…"

"Completing sentences?"

"No! I just…I dunno. I'm kind of still processing what happened. I mean, you died to save me."

He blushed, looked away and attempted to brush off the honorability. "I had to do what I had to do. I had to do what was right."

"Shaun…"

"Sara…" He cornered her against the ebony paneling on the walls, cupping her face in his hands. "I can't survive without you."

"But you shouldn't be here, you have a life. A life mostly free of unconditioned zombies and vengeance demons."

"Yeah, and I know you think that means we can't be together. But can't you respect me enough to let me make my own decisions? I know there'll be risks, but I want to face them with you. It's wrong that we should only be half-alive, half of ourselves. I love you. So here I am standing in your doorway. I've always been standing in your doorway. Isn't it about time someone saved your life? Well…say something."

"Thank you, Shaun Riley."

He smiled, then furrowed his brow in thought. "Did we just re-enact the last scene of Spiderman 2?"

"Yeah, that was weird." Sara replied.

Shaun's eyebrow twitched. "And yet…"

"Totally hot." Sara reached forward and grabbed a handful of his shirt, slung her other arm around Shaun's neck and snogged him like her life depended on it. She wasn't entirely sure it didn't, to be honest. They kissed for what seemed like ages; off at the far end of the hallway, unseen, Nic poked her head out of her office door and giggled.

"It's a good thing… we found each other," Shaun finally replied, between kisses. "Saves someone else the trouble of dealing with our ohh, bloody hell…" He lost his train of thought as Sara scored his earlobe with her teeth.

"I pulled a button off your shirt," she purred.

"I really don't care," Shaun laughed. "D'you want another one? Take another one."

Sara stuffed the button into her jeans pocket, then slid her hand up his back and placed her head on his chest. "So…what's the plan, MJ?"

"Oh, bollocks, do we need one?" he asked. "I figured we'd just play it by ear."

She looked up at him, quizzically. "Things don't go very well when we improvise, Shaun."

"We're both still here, aren't we?"

"For the time being, thankfully. You're headed back to the old job tomorrow, huh?"

"Looks like. Although, honestly, I could use a holiday," he sighed. "We should go to Brighton."

"Brighton?"

"Yeah, come on. You and me by the seaside. No vampires, no ghosts, no demons. Just fish and chips on the pier and you can ride the carousel as many times as you want."

"That is really, really tempting." She sighed and looked away. "But I can't. I've got a mountain of paperwork, and…you need time."

"Time for what?"

"Time to deal with Emma's death, to heal your wounds, to do whatever you need to do. I'll only complicate things."

"You're never a complication."

"You said it yourself, Shaun. Cataclysmic disasters and I go hand in hand."

He chuckled dismissively. "I didn't mean it."

"You did, and you were right. Look, Pru said something to me. Actually, Pru said a lot of things to me, but there was this one thing. She mentioned my habit of moving on because I don't want to face the people I've disappointed. And she was right. I don't want to be a disappointment to you."

"How could you think that?"

"All those months ago, when I walked away from you…I let you down."

"No, not at all. Well…okay, maybe a little. But hey, I got over it."

"No, you didn't. Can you honestly tell me that every time I walked out that door, every time I didn't come home at night or I didn't call you, that your mind wouldn't jump to the same conclusion that it did when I got on that plane to Hungary?"

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that until you can trust me again, until I can trust myself, this potential relationship is gonna' crash and burn before it even gets off the ground."

"But if we both have our seats in an upright and locked position, and we use our seat cushions as flotation devices, and we breathe from the little oxygen masks that come down from the ceiling…"

"How much further do you plan to stretch this metaphor?" she asked.

"I was gonna' try to work in something about the beverage cart hitting your shoulder when it comes down the aisle."

"Ah, I see."

"Look, I dunno what I'm saying, I'm just…I don't want to lose you again."

"Shaun, trust me, take care of things…and I'm not going anywhere." She pulled him into one last, lingering kiss. "I promised, didn't I?"

"Yeah," he replied, breathlessly.

Sara hugged him tightly, then started to walk away, then stopped. "Oh, Shaun?"

"Yeah?"

"When I get my new digs, I'll probably be needing a toaster. Think you can hook me up?"

"Consider yourself hooked. Up."

"Cool. But don't think that means I'll sleep with you."

"What if I throw in a flat-screen TV?" he attempted. "Car stereo? Subzero freezer?"

"I'm strangely aroused."

"I thought you might be."

"However, I should really go before Michael decides to kill me off again. Take care of yourself. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Not if I see you first." And with that, Sara started to walk away. She felt Shaun's presence, as if he were fighting the urge to follow her, and she resisted the same. But she thumbed his shirt button in her pocket the whole time.