Halfway across the world and she still can't get away from Angel, or Angel's people, or whatever the fuck Gwen is to him. It doesn't matter.

Because the beat - it pounds around them, through them, into them, taking them over. The music is in French, but what does that matter? Nothing matters.

Gwen sways, Buffy bounces. But they dance, and their hips meet, and Buffy is reminded of that night with Faith. That night that changed everything, changed her.

But tonight isn't about Faith, and as much as she can't stop thinking about Angel - it's not about him either. It's not about Spike even, who she was just informed is very much alive - well, in a sense. No, tonight is about Buffy, and the fucking beat that is inside her, and Gwen, who will be too.

Gwen told her all about her. About Angel, and everything and Buffy hadn't been mad. Not really, she hadn't been mad that Angel was kissing some leather-clad girl in an elevator instead of being with her. No, because Buffy would be with her too, and then it would be okay.

And Buffy doesn't want Angel, not anymore. She told Spike she loved him, and she had been telling the truth. She thinks. But that doesn't matter.

No, see none of this matters right now. None of it.

The beat, Buffy, focus on the beat.

Gwen's hips grind into her own, and Buffy decides to focus on that. To focus on Gwen. On her eyes, and her lips, and her hair, and breasts. Yeah, her breasts. Good things to focus on.

Oh, yeah. She could get into this, get into Gwen. She's certain she could get into her pants, at the very least. And right now, that's enough.

Buffy pulls Gwen off of the dance floor and towards the nearest bathroom - les toilettes or whatever they're called in French. Buffy doesn't remember. Not that it matters.

Gwen just follows, doesn't speak. Which is good, because Buffy doesn't need her speaking right now.

Once they reach their destination, Buffy is all over Gwen in a way that surprises even herself, though not really. She's sexy, she's weird, and she might have slept with Angel. Buffy wants her.

Buffy gets her off quickly, and then Gwen leaves. Or she tries to, rather, but Buffy stops her. What the fuck? Gwen cannot leave yet. Not until she's fucked Buffy - Buffy who keeps trying to get away from Angel, and everything that reminds her of him. Buffy who wanted to get away and ended up licking between some not-so-random girl's legs in a bathroom in some Paris club.

Buffy pulls Gwen back and Gwen scowls at her. "Sorry, I don't lick carpet," Gwen says snidely, zipping up the leather pants that Buffy knew she would be able to get into.

And Buffy's brain waves crash into each other and thoughts cease to be possible. Gwen leaves her in the bathroom stall, and Buffy is alone. And Buffy suddenly realizes this wasn't about Angel, or Faith, or Spike, or even Gwen. No, it was about her.

Halfway across the world and Buffy still can't get away from herself.

End.