Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or anything associated with it. All rights to Buffy the Vampire Slayer and affiliated products belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Inc.

Summary: Buffy knew to be careful of what she said to strangers when in pain; but no one warned her that vengeance demons were eavesdroppers and granted wishes that weren't expressed to them, though. "I wish I could go back in time and fix it."

Based on Episode: None. Post 'Chosen'

Rating: M

Pairings: Spuffy, Tallow, Xanya

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Buffy's Chance


Buffy glared at her second drink of the night; some God-awful fruity concoction that Willow had ordered for her while she'd been in the bathroom. She knew that Buffy's drink of choice was a straight shot of Jack or vodka, but in an effort to 'broaden her horizons', Willow had apparently made it her mission to introduce Buffy to as many different cocktails as possible in one night.

Wrinkling her nose in distaste, Buffy lifted the glass and drained it in one swig, making a sound of disgust as she attempted to ignore the sickly-sweet taste of the alco-pop as she closed her eyes and let the alcohol work it's magic. She enjoyed the buzz that a few drinks gave her – not that she drank herself under the table every night, but she'd had a rough week and felt that she deserved a little relaxing Buffy-time.

"Wow, Buffy," Willow eyed her in surprise, "I don't think I've ever seen you drink anything larger than a shot that fast."

Buffy opened her eyes and fixed Willow with a stern look that looked almost comical on her heavily made-up face. "That's 'cause it was awful and I wanted done with it." She huffed. "It's all fruity and… and fruity!" She wrinkled her nose again, adjusting her leather coat. Casting her eye around the stuffy English pub, she sighed. "I miss The Bronze. Hell," she scoffed, "I miss Sunnydale. In all its Hellmouthy glory."

"Me too." Willow nodded sagely. "But there's nothing we can do about it now. I mean," she cleared her throat in an attempt to grab Buffy before she slipped into one of her short depressions, "there was nothing that we could have done once everything started up. We did everything we could do."

Buffy sighed. "You're right." She admitted. "I mean, it's not that I don't like having other Slayers to share the burden of slayage, but I just…" she huffed into her empty glass, "I screwed it up."

"Oh, you didn't screw it up!" Willow shook her head emphatically. "I know you didn't!"

Buffy gave her a flat look. "I know I did." She sighed, signalling the bartender. "I interpreted that spirit guide thingy's message all wrong." She perked up as the bartender approached. "A bottle of Jack and a shot glass, please." She ordered, and turned back to her friend as he shuffled away. "Not that I'm saying that if I had the chance to let Dawn jump off that tower I'd let her, but… thanks," she nodded at the bartender as he placed her bottle and glass in front of her, "I think maybe the message might have meant something afterward. I think the tower was only the beginning."

"Spike?" Willow asked knowingly. She looked at her friend sympathetically, acknowledging that she'd lost happy-Buffy for the night.

Though his name wasn't often spoken between the two women, Willow knew that Buffy was still keenly feeling the loss of the bleach-blonde vampire, and was both depressed and angry that he'd been killed so shortly following his coming-back-from-the-dead thing without even calling her. Hearing it from Angel in casual conversation had not been good for her friend.

Buffy nodded miserably. "I got a visit from that Whistler guy – remember him? – after Sunnydale caved, and he told me that Spike getting his soul was what started all this mess in the first place. Tipped the scales, you know? God, if I could have just accepted him when I had the chance…" she frowned, downing a shot. "I wish I could, like… go back in time to the point where it all started to go wonky and just… fix it, you know? Do something different from what I did, to not screw it up and doom the Slayer line. Figure out how I could stop him from going all evil when the chip malfunctioned, without a soul."

Three seats down, a rather beautiful woman was eavesdropping on Buffy's conversation. She could feel the pain rolling off the young woman in waves – she'd been hanging around her for the last two weeks, hoping to hear a wish spill from her lips. Now that her moment had come, she was surprised with the sentimentality behind the wish – usually, the people that she granted wishes to expressed something like, wishing for one more night, or knowing that their loved ones were okay. This one was different. She grinned. This one was going to be interesting.

Fingering the pendant around her neck, she quickly tested the air around the slayer to make sure that the Powers that Be would allow it. To her delight, the air around the slayer was incredibly unstable, almost as if the Powers had been waiting for her to come along and grant this wish.

Her features twisted into the veiny visage of a vengeance demon.

"Wish granted."