The music from the nightclub pulsed out into the alleyway, a steady beat of techno sounds, without lyrics and made solely for dancing like a lunatic to. Buffy remembered dancing with Faith to a very similar sounding song. The memory made her smile, a little. Happier times. Simpler times. Before she got so messed up and before Faith went psychotic.

The Slayer stood staring at the entrance to the The Bronze. She’d been there for at least ten minutes, trying to weigh up all of her options. Either she went in or she didn’t. If she didn’t go in she knew she would regret it. And she was all about the no regrets policy these days. Taking a deep breath, she strolled towards the bouncer at the door. There was no one in line, it was pretty late, and people were probably already crammed inside.

Buffy heard the dance music cut off as she handed the guy at the door her money. He looked her over briefly before nodding and opening the door to the club. There was no real dress code for The Bronze, so she had to guess that he had simply been checking her out. And she felt oddly pleased about that. Which really showed the shift in her attitude over the recent weeks, when she thought about it. Sure, she’d still feel extremely uncomfortable if some guy tried to hit on her but she was okay with them looking. She knew she had her scars covered up.

She’d opted for a black cotton fitted shirt, tapering in at the waist and completely opaque – so the lights in the club didn’t highlight any of the damage – and fitted blue jeans with boots to complete the look. It was casual but still feminine. Her hair was tied up tightly in a bun and she’d actually made the effort to wear some mascara and lip gloss.

Stepping inside the club as the door slammed shut behind her the heat of the building swept over her like a rolling wave. There was a fair amount of people on the dance floor, though no music played yet as the band was setting up on stage. All the tables were occupied with people either standing or sitting around them, red paper beer cups littering all surfaces. Several people were propped up by the bar waving dollar bills at the staff and trying to shout over the din of multiple conversations.

People brushed past her on the way to the toilet or to the stairs that led to the walkway. Buffy looked up and found the balcony housing quite a few couples who were using it for their make-out sessions.

She winced as the band plugged one of their guitars into an amp and sent a high-pitched squeal across the club. Devon was tapping the microphone saying ‘1, 2, 3…testing” over and over again, whilst Oz stood to the side looking down at his guitar with concentration. As if feeling her eyes on him the werewolf looked up and awarded her with a slight smile and a nod. Buffy returned the low-key greeting.

Her eyes scanned the crowded club until they came to rest on a head of coppery-red. Willow. The witch sat at a table, front row and centre, to get a good view of her boyfriend. Xander sat with her sipping a bottle of beer, which he must have used fake ID to buy. Buffy looked around for any sign of Anya or even Giles but found neither.

She took a long, deep breath and worked the crick out of her neck. Her cheeks felt suddenly hot and she wondered if it was obvious that she was blushing. Deciding that it would be better if she just got it over and done with, the Slayer weaved her way through the patrons of the bar towards her friends.
Buffy had almost made it to the pair when a suddenly shudder ran through her body, the hairs on the back of her neck lifting up. She looked around but could see no one who looked even vaguely like a candidate for slaying. Shrugging, she resumed her course towards the table.

Buffy could hear Willow attempting to engage Xander in a conversation about how cute Oz looked up on stage and the boy was clearly uncomfortable with the whole deal.

After a long moment of indecision on what to say, Buffy came out with, “Oh my god, are you guys with the band?”

Willow turned around to give her the stink-eye but abruptly changed course when she saw who it was, a surprised expression pasting itself on her face. “Buffy!”

“That’s pretty much me,” she replied, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

“Are you here to scold us again? ’Cos I didn’t enjoy the scolding.” Willow questioned, a tad playfully but with a serious undercurrent.

Buffy shook her head and the redhead visibly relaxed. She stood, slowly, and there was an awkward moment before she reached over and pulled Buffy into a warm hug. The Slayer felt herself tense up instinctively but after only a moment she unwound enough to hug her back, even if it was a somewhat generic embrace.
As she pulled back, her gaze turned to Xander. He had remained seated, his finger tracing the rim of the beer bottle, facial expression defiantly moody as he tried not to look at her. She glanced back at Willow who pulled a disapproving face at her old crush. Buffy shook her head, indicating Xander’s reaction was understandable.

“Guess you hate me now.” Buffy remarked to him.

Xander locked eyes with her and said nothing.

She shrugged one shoulder “Hate you too.”

“Gee, thanks,” an almost smile quivered at the corner of his lips. “I always wanted to form a mutual hate society with my best friend.” Willow cleared her throat. “One of my best friends.” Xander amended.

Dingoes Ate My Baby started to play suddenly, loud music boomed out of their speakers and people on the dance floor jumped up and down, cheering, before settling down into more suitable dancing. Willow frowned, actually annoyed at the interruption, from what Buffy could tell. She motioned for Buffy to sit down at the table and then sat down herself.

“So, how’d you know we were here? Not that it’s not good because it is.” Willow nodded, “Right, Xander?”

He shrugged, slowly. “It’s good that you’re here, Buffy. But we still have things to talk through.”

“Yeah. I guess we do.” Buffy agreed. “So, let’s talk.”

Willow and Xander looked at each other then back to Buffy, neither of them saying anything. She tapped her fingers on the tabletop waiting for one of them to have the courage and come forward to say what they wanted to say. It wasn’t like they had had much trouble expressing their feelings the last time they had met with her.

Xander cleared his throat. “Right. Well. It’s just that…you’ve been avoiding us. I know we handled things badly. Okay, more than badly. Hellaciously, if you will. But we’re still your friends and you shut us out completely. It got to the point where we couldn’t remember the last time we had seen you.”

“It was easier that way, Xander. By keeping myself to myself I didn’t have to feel the way you all look at me.” Buffy replied.

“And how is that?”

“Like you pity me,” she said. “Like I’m someone to be pitied”

Willow shook her head, “Buffy, no.”

Buffy shrugged. “I can’t have people around me who can’t see past the scars. I need you to see me. You said before that I was a different person, well, that’s because circumstances made me that way. It wasn’t the scars. It was the reaction to the scars. I might as well have hung a sign around my neck saying ‘mutilated girl, come see the freak show’.”

“Well, cut us some slack, Buff. It’s not like there are blueprints on how to deal with this kind of thing. Everything we said…everything we did…seemed to rub you up the wrong way.” Xander added, carefully. “We couldn’t do a thing right, as far as you were concerned. I get that you were hurting, that you still are, but so are we. You gotta realise that. We’re all in the same boat. You might be the one who got burnt but we all wear the scars from that day.”

Buffy had to look away from his warm, dark eyes. She fixated on the band up on the stage. Devon was holding the microphone almost obscenely close, eyes closed in concentration as he belted out one of their up-tempo numbers. A spotlight had landed on Oz as he let rip with a well-practiced guitar solo.

She took a deep breath and turned back to her friends. “All I know is that I needed support. I needed my friends to be there for me. I was difficult, I was moody, I was a complete bitch to you guys – this I know. But I was going through something you can’t even begin to understand. I needed that anger. I needed it so that I could grit my teeth and get on with living. Because even that, even living, was like a trial for me. I wanted out. I wanted to be gone. In my eyes my life was not worth it. And when no one but my mother was there for me…it burned worse than that demon’s flame ever could.”

“Buffy,” Willow’s voice trembled, “we know we should have been there. We know that if we had then maybe things would be different. Maybe you wouldn’t still be so angry. I just…we’re here now. At your disposal. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

She wondered if maybe now would be a good time to tell them about Spike. They wouldn’t understand that. Their kind and gentle visages would melt away into disgust and scorn. The way Xander had reacted towards Angel made this perfectly clear to her. Yet, maybe, it would be a good idea to just get it all out in the open now. Save for confrontation and blame later on.

Looking at them now, so full of hope for reconciliation, Buffy knew she wouldn’t say a damn thing.

“You could start by getting me a drink. I’ve got a bad case of dry throat.” She replied.

Xander’s eyebrows rose. “Not to be confused with deep throat.”

Willow practically threw herself off her chair and ran towards the bar with a skip in her step. Buffy watched her for a moment before turning back to the table. Xander was looking at with a deep concentration. She wanted to flinch and move away, the scars on her back felt hot and clammy all of a sudden.

He placed the cap from his beer onto the table between them. Buffy looked at him questioningly.

“Bottle cap for your thoughts.” He leaned in.

She looked down at the table for a moment. “You always were a cheapskate. As for my thoughts…they’re mostly dark in a gothic, woe-is-me type of way. You don’t want to know.”

“Alright, then. I’ll just tell you my thoughts. I was just thinking that you have never looked more beautiful.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and scoffed, feeling her cheeks light up.

“I know, I know. Cheesy. But totally true. It’s not a line, I have a girlfriend now…a sometimes crazy, often nymphomaniac girlfriend but…still. You have this new way about you. Like, confidence I guess? I’m not explaining this very well.” Xander rambled, looking embarrassed.

“I beg you to stop.” She nodded, also embarrassed.

Xander gave her a quick grin as Willow came back to the table with a couple of colas. One for each of them, whereas Xander made do with his illegal beer. Buffy gulped down a large quantity of the ice cold drink to alleviate the flush that had alighted itself around her face.

“But, Buffy, I’m serious.” Willow sipped her own coke. “I’ll do anything. You can hit me if you like. Just not in the nose. No…no…you can hit me in the nose. I deserve it. Please, hit me in the nose.”

“I left my hitting hand at home.”

Xander balled his fist “I could lend you this one.”

“Ack, no!” Willow cried. “Not a man hand. That would be too much.”

He laughed. “Willow, you just gave permission for a Slayer to hit you. Buffy’s got more strength in her little toe than I have in my whole body.”

“Yeah, but…her hands are less threatening looking, you know? Less beefy.”

“And way less hairy” Buffy added.

“Totally.”

“Hey!”

Buffy smiled.