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Author's Chapter Notes:
The idea is shorter chapters/quicker postings. We'll see how it goes. This one took too long. Gotta improve on that if I still want people to remember the chapter before.
"Hello?"
There were three clues. One, no one answered. Two, his eyelids remained surely fastened. Three, although his right hand managed a twitch, it held no phone. So it stood to reason that Xander had only heard the ring coming from upstairs and his mind remained ignorant of his surroundings. Had Buffy taken up his offer to change her ringtone to donkey brays like he had wanted, just the one ring/bray (whatever) would not have been shrill enough to tunnel into the odd dream he was inhabiting. And, as dream participants do not recognize nonsensical elements in whatever their subconscious is creating, it seemed perfectly reasonable that Anya was phoning him from the bottom of a water slide, asking him to stop being a chicken. Xander's sleep often starred Anya. She had a recurring role almost every night. Sometimes he remembered in the morning. Sometimes he didn't. When he did he would smile and think she would be quite pleased to have reclaimed immortality in some way. He didn't put it past her to have found such an invasive method of haunting him, but in truth, he enjoyed still having her around in some capacity.
Xander had come-to a couple hours after Buffy had left to go on patrol the night before, but only for a minute or so, and not completely reaching the surface. His sole utterance was an exclamation of disgust. Face down on the bean bag he was sprawled across, he had mistaken the slickness of the bag's pleather surface to his tendency to drool, promptly turned the "chair" over to its dry side, and returned to fitful slumber and where his dream had left off. Anya was now arms akimbo at the bottom of the chute exclaiming that he should get some balls and take the plunge. Whined snarls threatened from impatient youth held up in line. By the time he splashed into the pool at the end of the ride, Xander actually WAS a chicken. Of course Anya, being a participant in his fantasy, didn't find this odd at all.

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"Aaaah, her REAL refuge." Mouth tweaked to one side, Willow looked down upon her roommate.
Buffy huffed a small puff of air out her nose in amusement and wanted to smile but then didn't. "Mmmm mmm," she returned. Her eyes remained closed.
"Slept then?"
"Sort of. I wink out now and then I think. No clock in here."
"You slept with your sword?"
"Oh. Her head rolled to the side. I was just training and laid down on the mat with it in my hand. Finally fell asleep I guess. Was trying not to think. Damn thinking. Xander!"
"What!" Willow returned alarmed. "Did I miss something?"
"I totally forgot. He was sick last night." Buffy sat back on her elbows and motioned to the wall with a tilt of the head. "Next door."
Affectionately named the "boob room", the room one door down was instantly claimed by the man of the house upon their first whirl through the basement. The extent of it's decor consisted of an old CRT television and a peach bean bag, both remnants of a prior tenant. Surrounding the chair like so many escaping insects, tiny, round, white balls had rolled out in a ring. Xander had faced his first house project with glee. Within an hour, the beads were replaced and a pink elbow patch from a junk drawer upstairs painstakingly superglued to the guilty tear. "Fixer-upper #1 completed!" immediately followed by an extended grin. "My very own breast!" Buffy refused to lounge on it. Willow found it comforting.
"Awww. Come see," Willow let out a giggle. Buffy walked in and looked over her shoulder.
"Watch. He gets himself all situated and then… wait for it… look! slides back down. There is about a two minute interval between scooches. Why is he shirtless? Is the bag leaking?"
"Fever I think," said Buffy. "Hence the slip and slide."
"Splains the shirt too."
"I found him like this yesterday."
"K, I'm feeling bad about making fun of him now."
"Will, you wake him up, I'm gonna get a glass of water." The blonde slayer bounded upstairs, four steps at a time.
"Buff, this isn't working!" A tinge of panic marred Willow's holler.
"What do you mean?"
"Get back down here! Bring your phone!"
The Samsung within her tightening grasp rang before she was even to the bottom stair. She answered.
"Spike?"


Chapter End Notes:
Thank you for both reviews.



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