Alive
By Lacy

Title: Alive 1/?
Summary: My version of what should have gone down in Bargaining.
Spoilers: Through S5 "The Gift", and a tiny bit of "Bargaining, 1". After that, all bets are off.
Pairing: B/G, obviously. *grin*
Rating: PG-13, or so, till we get to the smut later. I'll let you know. *grin*
Feedback: Yes! Yes! Please!
Use: Want. Take. Have. Just tell me where it goes.
Disclaimer: Obviously not my characters, as I imagine we'd all be a lot happier if they were! They're all owned by Joss the Evil, ME, UPN and a bunch of people I don't know. I'm just borrowing them.

Airport. He'd had a layover here to change planes on his way back to England, a flight had been delayed, and now he was still here, and had missed his next connector in New York. God, he hated flying. He had no idea when he'd get back to England, and he didn't know anyone in Chicago. Sleeping in a chair was not something he liked, though he'd done it the night before. Fleetingly, he wondered how the kids in Sunnydale were getting along without him. But, thinking of them made him think of Buffy, and thinking of Buffy made his heart hurt. That's what this was, really. A mad dash to get away from the pain that threatened to kill him everytime he walked into her house, saw her friends, saw her sister. An attempt to quiet the violent thoughts that he'd gladly see every one of them dead if only it meant he could have Buffy alive again. If only....

"Well, old man," he muttered to himself, "You had your chance and you lost it. She's gone. Deal with it." He rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. All he wanted to do now, was get back to England, and purchase a gigantic bottle of scotch. He knew he'd been drinking a lot lately, but he figured these were special circumstances. He ignored the voice in his head that said these "special circumstances" would probably go on for the rest of his life, as he didn't think there would ever be a time when he wasn't mourning his Slayer. He sat again, and waited, promising himself a trip to the bar if his flight wasn't announced in half an hour.

"This is the real deal?" Willow looked at Anya for confirmation.

"Yes. I had a friend check it out last night, because you know, you can't always trust people you buy things from on the internet, and he said it was authentic. Now we only have to hope that you can do the spell."

"Anya." Xander's voice was mildly reprimanding.

"I can do the spell," Willow said confidently. "We'll do it tonight."

Tara spoke up, softly, "I think we should have said something to Mr. Giles. He...deserves to know."

"He wouldn't understand, Tar. If it works...we'll get him on the first plane back here. If it doesn't, he won't ever have to know."

"I don't think Giles could take it if he knew we were doing it and it didn't work," Xander put in. "Seriously."

"He was always awfully emotionally attached to Buffy. Almost in a dirty old man kind of way."

"Anya! You're older than he is! And it's Giles! Not Leo the street bum!" Xander squealed.

"Then I guess I'm a cradle robber, too," she mused. "He loved her. That's obvious. I'm not saying that's bad."

"It's why he left." Tara said quietly.

"So, then, it's all with the good that we don't tell him." Willow's voice was final.

"All right...so we meet at around 8 for this? And we'll walk over to the...ah...place?"

"Yes. Everybody bring their stuff."

The group dispersed to gather supplies.

Giles had virtually given up hope of ever getting out of Chicago. No one seemed to be able to tell him *why* his flight had been held over for so long, and no one knew when he could get another one. Apparently all of America was flying right now.

He swore under his breath. He'd finally given up and gotten a hotel room for the night. He wasn't doing that hope for the best, sleep in a chair, just in case routine again. His back was killing him from the previous evening. He shoved his keycard into the slot.

"Can't believe I have been stuck in an airport for two days. I could have driven cross country in shorter time" he grumbled, throwing his bags into a corner, and raided the minibar before falling onto the bed. He drank himself into a stupor and watched late night television, something he detested, but what could he expect from hotel cable. He fell asleep quickly. A little before midnight, Giles jerked awake, covered in a cold sweat. His midsection hurt something terrible, and pain radiated through his whole body. He'd only felt this way once before, and he couldn't understand why he should feel like this now. She was dead. The only time...this kind of horrible uber-cramp, it was how he'd known without looking that Buffy had taken her sister's place. That she'd jumped. That she was dead. He'd asked Wesley about it, and he'd said it was only natural that he should have a primal connection of sorts with Buffy. He was her Watcher.But...why was this happening now? He groaned as the pain increased rapidly, and panted for breath. A voice he was sure he must be hallucinating ripped through his brain, screaming his name, screaming incoherently.

"Buffy?" he whispered. Overcome by a mixture of pain, and disbelief, Giles reached for the phone. "I need to get back to California. *Now*. I don't care what it costs. Just get me there before sunrise."

Halfway across the country, Buffy Summers had woken up in her coffin.

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