Buffy was sitting on Booth’s bed, clad only in her shirt and her panties. She was relaxed, and calm – a lot calmer than she had been when she first arrived her. So she had been brought here, by some seal and all her friends were older than her, and everyone knew an older her (who seemed to have left quite an impact when she had been here before) – so what? It didn’t matter. None of it did. What did matter was being here, now, in bed – with Booth.
It was weird. He looked like Angel, he sounded like Angel – but he wasn’t Angel, and that was okay. It was great actually. Peachy keen.
She liked this. She wasn’t thinking about vampires, or slaying demons. She wasn’t worried about how she got here, or how she was going to go home. She was at peace – for the first time in a very long time Buffy Summers was at peace. It was nice. Buffy couldn’t help but wonder if this is what normal felt like. She had wanted normal for so long, she probably wouldn’t know it if it punched her in the face, and danced in front of her wearing nothing but a tea cozy and an apron. But then…that didn’t matter either.
Nothing did. Nothing at all.
She snuggled down next to Booth when she spoke – she loved the warm feeling of someone next to her.
“Are you offering to make English Muffins?” Buffy asked, raising her eyebrows and smiling. “Or something sweeter?”