[A/N: Title belongs to the Bard of Avon, in “As You Like It, act 1, sc. 2, the quotes, as always, as attributed. This started out as a, well, I got this idea after I bought season 5, and watched the interaction between Dawn and Spike. It kind of took a few twists and turns, but basically, this is still the original idea I first had so many months ago. This is also my first real foray into fanfiction, but far from my first fiction ever written. In point of fact, its more like just the latest in a long line of storytelling. Hopefully someone out there will enjoy this. Disclaimers in full force and effect.]

Previously: Buffy’s back due to Willow’s spellcrafting, though Tara, with help from Dawn had to clean up the mess. Giles called home from Heathrow Airport in London, only to be told what had just transpired in Sunnydale, and is now on his way back. This night however, isn’t quite over yet.

13. Dearer than the natural bond of sisters.

Like the prodigal doth she return,
With over-weather’d ribs and ragged sails,
Lean, rent and beggar’d by the strumpet wind!
The Merchant of Venice, act ii, sc. 6

It is only the dead who do not return
Bertrand Barere de Vieuzac, Speech, 1794

For life is but a dream whose shapes return,
Some frequently, some seldom, some by night,
And some by day
James Thomson, The City of Dreadful Night



She was dressed in warm soft pajamas, sitting on a bed, with a mound of pillows behind her and a cup of warm tea in her hand. Her voice was returning slowly, the muscles in her throat now lubricated by the liquid she’d been swallowing. The trembling hadn’t ceased yet, it was still something she fought constantly. The other girl, the one Spike kept referring to as Tara stayed nearby, in case she needed anything. He wasn’t in the room though. She liked having him near. It was comforting. He was familiar. Memories were swirling and she was trying to make some sense of them all. Faces, voices, images and words triggered each other, jumbling and confusing and nothing made sense. Thinking she remembered the girl, she tested out her memories. “Tara?”

The taller girl turned away from her straightening up of the room to face her. “Yes Buffy? Do you need something?”

A small shrug greeted her question, but Buffy whispered a question back. “Friends? We are friends . . . Willow?” Real confusion colored her face, until Tara sat down in front of her. “Yes sweetie. We are friends, and Willow is your friend. Do you remember Xander? And Anya?”

A little nod of her head indicated that she did remember the names. The next question was more difficult. “Dawn and Mom?”

Biting her lower lip, Tara wasn’t sure how to answer that one. Instead of blurting things out, she reached for one of Buffy’s hands, but the other girl pulled away when she realized her intent. Thick tears rose in hazel eyes, and a soft sob broke in the air. “No Mom. She’s gone. Where’s Dawnie?” Wild fright looked out from her eyes, and Buffy couldn’t fight the pain. “Where is she?”

Laying a soft hand on her thin ankle, Tara said “Spike went to go get her. She’ll be right here soon. I promise.”

Both girls lapsed into silence that wasn’t completely uncomfortable.


******************************* ******************************


After hanging the phone back upon the receiver, Spike stood in the hallway, his mind completely and totally blank. Coming back to himself with a start, he squished his way back to the shower. He’d given the girls enough time for Tara to help Buffy out of her rotted clothing, finish washing up and get Buffy into her own room.

He needed some time alone.

There was the strangest feeling riding his gut. Was like getting something you really deeply wanted handed to you, only just in a way that wasn’t right. Wasn’t that you still didn’t crave it, but more like it was tainted somehow. Despite being overjoyed about Buffy’s return, he couldn’t shake the feeling that some great horrible disaster was looming just beyond the horizon.

As he peeled off the wet jeans, he thought about the battered girl in the next room. He’d never seen her this way – not even when her mother died, not when Dawn had been taken by the hellbitch. Well, so she wasn’t her best when little bit had been taken, going all Karen Quinlan, but still, she’d felt . . . whole. Right now, it felt like pieces of her were missing. Hell, chunks were missing, not just pieces. How the hell were they gonna help her get them back?

Leaning back against the tiled wall behind him, Spike closed his eyes and surrendered to his emotions. Tears slid down his face as he lifted it toward the warm spray. Bleeding Jesus. Fucking Red brought her back. Buffy was back from beyond, back from the dead, breathing and heartbeat intact.

He’d held her in his arms, her skin delicate and paper-thin, her bones nearly poking through. It broke his heart, seeing what a state she was in, what having to dig her way out of her coffin had done to her. She was bruised and battered, her spirit nearly broken. It was also clear her memories were not intact, it had taken too long for her to recognize things for it not to be.

Angry tears surfaced. That fucking arrogant . . . yeah, he’d wanted Buffy back, would have given anything to be able to even see her again – but not like this – not this way. Wherever she’d been, and Spike had his suspicions, coming back had broken something with her. Broken something vital.

Maybe he was just over-reacting, maybe it was just his over-protectiveness and knowing what she’d had to do after coming back. It had been traumatic when he’d done it, crawled from his grave, enough so that he’d had nightmares for years – and he hadn’t needed to breathe. He could imagine what it had been like for the slayer, on top of not knowing what had happened to her.

But still – seeing her sitting there – in the pale moonlight, had caught his heart in his throat – he’d gasped for air – and part of him had wanted to just lay down and thank god for her. And that moment, when she’d reached out to him, Spike would never ever forget it. Would carry that memory until he was dust.

He had not a clue, though, what to say to Dawn. Tara had told him bits of what had happened, enough so that he knew he didn’t have to explain everything to Dawn. Closing his eyes, Spike dipped his head under the water. Another problem was Red.

Not having the whole story was probably a good thing, at least at the moment. Torn between wanting to kiss Willow and throttling her, Spike was at a loss. What she’d done, while not exactly wrong, clearly hadn’t been entirely right either. While her motivation may have been pure, obviously Willow’s execution left a lot to be desired. In his mind, he had to wonder if Willow had known Buffy would have ended up trapped in her grave.

Stepping out of the shower, Spike quickly toweled off, then slipped into the clean black jeans Tara had found for him. Avoiding his non-reflection in the mirror, he ran a quick comb through his curls and realized he was stalling. Bleeding wanker, he thought about himself. All this because I don’t want to face a teenager. He snorted at the blank mirror, tossing aside his wet towel. Best do it now mate, she’ll never forgive you if you make her wait.

Without further procrastination Spike made his way to Dawn’s room. He stood outside the closed door listening intently to the heartbeat inside. He knocked once then slipped into the dark room. Pale moonlight barely filtered through her curtains while the air conditioner hummed away. Unlike her sister, Dawn preferred artificial cool air over warm breezes. Dawn was on her side, facing away from the door, huddled under a light blanket.

Spike sat down on the bed just behind Dawn’s hip. Reaching out a hand to shake her, he softly called her name. “Dawn. Wake up, c’mon Platelet, wake up.” She shifted a bit but didn’t respond. “C’mon Bit, I need you awake. Need to see your pretty eyes. Wake up Dawn.”

After about ten minutes of not always gentle prodding, Dawn rolled over a bit onto her back, and without opening an eye, said “this better be good otherwise I’ll sic Spike on you.”

His deep chuckle sounded very loud in the small room. “C’mon Dawnie, wake up.” Nice to hear she put a lot of trust in him.

Dawn rolled over to face him, barely opening her eyes. “What?”

“Need you a bit more awake.” Shifting on the bed, she finally opened both eyes and waited. “Dawn, need you to listen carefully.” Her ears perked up. He rarely called her by her first name, only when something was serious. “Was out patrolling, ended up in Restfield.”

Oh god. Dawn’s sleepy attention was riveted on him now. The way he looked and his tone of voice indicated that something was indeed up. And not anything good by the sound of it.

“Red’s mojo – it worked.” Before the thought of bolting for the door was finished forming, Spike had a restraining hand on her. “No. Niblet, need to listen to me now. It’s important.”

“Spike I need to . . “

“No. Dawn. You need to listen to me first.” As his tone got worse, she stopped moving, waiting for him to finish. “The mojo didn’t work the way Willow intended. Yeah, your sis is back, but – Niblet, I said wait. ” Dawn was off the bed and nearly at the door when he caught her by the arm. “Dawn sit down now .” He ground out the words, nearly growling, something he never did to her.

“Just tell me Spike. I won’t move.” Dawn pushed his hands off her, then crossed her arms in front of her. God almighty, she looked just like her bloody sister, tapping foot and impatience personified.

His sigh indicated his acceptance of her defiance. “She had to dig herself out. She’s not the same – something. . . “ at a loss for words, Spike just blurted it out. “Look, loud noise and bright lights are too much – took her a while to remember me. I found her, just after she’d crawled from her grave – she’s not good, Bit, might not know you. Just . . . “ he ran a hand through his hair, struggling with what more to say. He couldn’t look at Dawn, afraid of the look on her face.

She touched him, her voice small and scared. Unlike Buffy, her bravado didn’t always carry her through. “But she’s Buffy, right? Not like what happened with Mom . . . “

“No, it’s her, just not one hundred percent, but it’s her.” She deserved the truth, no matter what anyone thought, Dawn wasn’t a baby and the trials of the last few months alone had made her grow up. He waited, while Dawn processed the information.

“Okay Spike. I get it.” Dawn reached out a hand, all at once his little Bit again. Ageless and timeless the key was, Dawn was still basically a kid. Times like this, when she was scared it was really evident. “But you’re sure she’s not like Mom – I mean we won’t have to send her back, right?” Her face told him everything he needed to know. She was scared and she had listened to him, and surprise, surprise, she’d listened to Tara also.

“Yeah. Yeah. It’s Buffy.” Spike tried to stop his voice from breaking but it didn’t exactly work. “Don’t think it’s anything like what you did.”

She needed his reassurance, needed to hear it from him. Her trust in him staggered him sometimes, this being one of them. Never ceased to make him wonder how she could trust someone like him, who’d done so many . . . cruel and brutal things. But she did. She trusted him almost as much as she trusted her mother or her sister. Another silent promise from him went out to her, to never violate that trust.

Taking her hand in his, he tugged her toward the door. “C’mon Niblet, she’ll be wanting to see you.”


******************************* *******************************


Tara had no idea how long they’d been waiting, but it had been a while since Spike had hung up with Giles. The sky was lightening, the early morning birds chirping their happiness out to the new day, and Buffy sat quietly on her bed. Few words had been spoken between the two, neither one really sure what to say.

Buffy was really . . . no she wasn’t glad, but, it was just better that Tara was here. The girl had such a calm air that couldn’t help but soothe everyone around her. She didn’t chatter unnecessarily or feel the need to fill silence with any other kind of noise. No, this was better, much better.

Both of them looked up when the door creaked open.


******************************* *******************************


Dawn had skipped ahead of Spike then slammed to a dead stop outside Buffy’s door. Only a couple of steps behind her, Spike nearly walked into her back. “Bloody hell, Niblet, why’d ya stop?”

“You’re sure it’s Buffy?”

Turning her toward him with a hand on her shoulder Spike looked down into scared blue eyes. “Yeah. I promise, it’s your sis.”

Not giving her another chance to chicken out, Spike opened the door. He stuck his head in, speaking softly to the girl on the bed. “Brought someone in to see you, pet. You up for a visit?”

A tentative smile was directed his way and as she cleared her throat to speak, her baby sister walked through the door. “Dawn.”

She’d heard him, earlier, even listened to him. But nothing had prepared her for the sight of her sister. A mere whisper of air spoke her name. “Buffy?”

Two tiny words. Just their names. And yet the emotion in those words nearly broke their hearts.

“Oh Dawnie.”

Stifling a shriek, a noise broke from Dawn that ended in a sob. “You’re real. Really real. Oh god, Buffy, I missed you so much.”

Afraid she was lost in a dream, Dawn made for the bed. “You’re here, really here.” Sitting down on the bed next to Buffy, Dawn burst into tears. Gulping in huge amounts of air, she reached out to Buffy then stopped. The slayer wasn’t happy with that. Clutching Dawn like she was lifeline, Buffy cried into her sister’s long brown hair.

Tara slipped from the room, leaving the girls alone with Spike.
[A/N: Standard disclaimers in effect. Quotes as attributed.]

Previously: Willow brought Buffy back from the dead. Spike brought her home. Giles was on his way to London, then turned right around to head back to Sunnydale after checking in with Spike and finding out what happened. This is the next morning/afternoon.

14. Sisters and nightmares.

Factum est illud, fieri infectum non potest.
Done is done, it cannot be made undone.
Plautus

Whatever you do, do wisely, and think of the consequences.
Gesta Romanorum



He sat and watched them, until utter exhaustion claimed him. The two girls were curled up together on the bed, long strands of brown and dark gold flung across the bedspread, Buffy’s arms wrapped around her sister. Tear tracks were visible on both their faces and neither girl’s face was content. Buffy’s features, though partially obscured by the fall of Dawn’s hair, reflected the ravages of her fate. Deep lines were etched there, indications of how long she’d been gone, and how difficult a journey coming back had been. He didn’t want to think of her being buried in the ground, hadn’t wanted to focus on that at all. Didn’t want to remember how hard it had been for himself. Dawn, on the other hand, had a look of relief on her features. Relief that Buffy was back. He had an inkling that she didn’t care, wouldn’t matter to her why Willow’d done what she did, or where Buffy had been, or how hard it had to be being here after so long. Dawn had the innocence of youth, not really understanding about the climb out of the grave. It was all so simple for her.

Hours he watched over them, noting the changes in their breathing, the twitches and spasms that were indications of deep fatigue. It hadn’t taken long for either girl to drift off into sleep, but neither one was sleeping peacefully. The sun had been up for a while, when Spike had finally given into his own fatigue.

When he woke at first he had no idea where he was or why he was sleeping sitting up. Realization came quickly, as his sense of smell returned. Buffy’s room. Looking around, he idly noted the time on the clock. Two bloody hours of sleep. Sniffing the air he tried to figure out what had woken him, when a muffled cry from the bed caught his attention. Buffy was crying in her sleep, her limbs twitching and her hands clutching and scratching at Dawn. Her ragged nails caught on Dawn’s exposed skin, raising welts and in some spots blood. Spike reacted instantly.

Grabbing at her as gently as possible, Spike eased Buffy’s hands away from the sleeping girl, though at the rate she was going, Dawn wouldn’t be asleep much longer. In fact, as he moved to get a better hold on Buffy, Dawn rolled over and woke up. Soft tears and incoherent mutterings broke the silence of their breathing. Her words were too low for Dawn to hear and for that Spike was grateful. It was enough to break his heart, the things she was saying and muttering, and most likely it would send Dawn off the deep end. There were some things she just didn’t need to hear.

“All right pet, its all right. You’re not there anymore, c’mon love, open your eyes.” Spike kept his voice soft and low, yet still speaking over Buffy’s cries. “C’mon open up your eyes.“

Dawn watched from her side of the bed, blue eyes wide with distress, unable to speak. Buffy’s fingers were frozen like claws, scratching at thin air, while Spike held her wrists in an unbreakable grip. His voice kept going, trying any way to reach her, his tone even and calm. He was beginning to think she was not ever going to respond to his voice when abruptly she broke down into a heap, crumpling and mewling his name. “Spike help me. Please, please Spike.”

Gulping sobs and hiccups sounded in the room, the only noise evident. Spike gathered her up in his arms, holding her close. “S’okay pet, I’ve got you. Its all right. “ he just kept repeating the words over and over, hoping to calm her tears.

Dawn reached out a tentative hand, hoping to just touch Buffy, but when the girl felt her touch, Buffy jumped and moved away. She shot a hurt look at Spike, almost in blame, but at his arched brow, Dawn relented, understanding that perhaps it wasn’t his fault, that it was the nightmare causing the problem.

“Sshhhh. Its all right pet. Hush your tears. I’m right here.” Gently rocking her back and forth, Spike rubbed soothing circles on her back. Dawn leaned her head against his other shoulder, needing the comfort she’d come to rely upon while Buffy had been gone. It took some time, but finally Buffy had stopped crying, her breath still hitching and gasping. Brushing his hand down her tangled hair, Spike wished he could find a way to ease her through this, make it easier on her somehow.

Shifting slightly on the bed, Spike leaned back against the headboard, both girls within the reach of his arms. Buffy was still curled up in his lap and Dawn had slipped her head under his arm, her head resting on his upper shoulder. The girls were facing each other, their warm breaths wafting over his chest. He was deliciously warm, the heat they were generating seeping into his bones. Believing they both had drifted off back to sleep, Spike sighed, thinking about the two of them. Buffy’s head picked up a little bit, the top of her head brushing against his chin. His hand drifted down her back, absently smoothing the cloth. Resting his head against the wall, Spike reveled in the moment. This was almost worth the pain of the last couple of months. Almost.

Her voice took him by surprise. “Thank you.”

“No worries pet.”

Dawn hugged him tighter, conveying her thoughts without words.

It wasn’t long before they all fell back to sleep.


******************************* *******************************


Giles was bleary-eyed and punchy. He’d been flying for nearly, looking down at his watch, he tried to calculate exactly how many hours he’d spent airborne in the last day, and couldn’t come up with an accurate number. His brain felt like mush. His legs were cramped, his posterior was numb, and he had a pounding headache from the forced air that blew constantly around his head. The solicitousness of the stewardesses was driving him insane. He’d made an instant turn around, not even bothering to clear customs after hanging up the phone with Spike. He’d managed to stop one of the ground personnel, conveying his urgent need to return to California. Citing a desperate family emergency, telling the ticket agent that his daughter had been in a fatal accident, they quickly by-passed all the necessary paperwork.

He’d boarded the twelve fifteen flight just as it was preparing to taxi down the runway, the flight attendants holding the plane for the clearly desperate man. And since then, they’d never left him alone. Giles was at his wit’s end.

The astounding news Spike had delivered bare hours ago still hadn’t truly registered in his brain. Willow had used magic to bring Buffy back. Just that alone was . . . Giles didn’t have the words to describe his current emotions. Like the rest of him, he imagined his emotions were, at the moment, numb and disconnected. Most likely, none of this would be real until he was back in Sunnydale, Buffy sitting next to him.

Still reeling from the news, Giles chafed at the delay. The plane was still somewhere over the Atlantic, hours from his destination. Even with the time, Giles thought he wouldn’t be able to process any of this. This was just some bizarrely surreal dream, some wickedly accurate waking nightmare, from which he currently couldn’t wake.


******************************** *******************************


Tara had heard the cries from downstairs, heard Spike’s soft voice calming the terrified girl. The noises had only increased her own agitation, making sleep completely elusive. Willow was still on the couch out cold. It was, at the moment, the best place for her. The ethics of what Willow had done were just – wrong. In every single sense of the word. And then, to violate both her free will and Dawn’s was another big no-no. The words of the Wiccan Rede kept circling round her head, coupled with the rule of three. Great gods above, what had Willow done?

The oppressive heat and the fall-out from the nights activities just . . . Tara was so completely at a loss, she just didn’t know what to do. She had no idea what was going to happen when Mr. Giles got back or when Spike recovered. And, oh no! No one had called Xander. Tara looked around, half expecting someone to come up with a decision about calling Xander and Anya. For a wild minute, Tara actually considered about waking Willow up to ask her what she thought, then realized what she’d just contemplated. Understanding there was no one but herself, she shook her head. Can’t ask Spike, won’t wake up Willow. Okay, girl, should you or shouldn’t you?

In the end, it came down to one thing really, would she want to know. And her answer was yes, she would. But not over the phone. She called the Magic Box, spoke briefly with Anya, requesting that they both come over for dinner after work.

That gave her enough time to do a couple of things. First and most important, was tell Spike about it and get his help in moving Willow up to their room. Second was filling him in about the specifics of the spell she’d currently woven about Willow. Lastly, she needed to shower and take a nap. With those ends in mind, Tara headed up the stairs to Buffy’s room.

The sight that greeted her re-ordered her priorities. Spike was sitting up, his head resting on the wall behind Buffy’s bed, the headboard flush against his back. Curled up practically on his lap, his left arm curled around her protectively, was Buffy. Lying on her side next to him, her head nestled somehow between Buffy and Spike was Dawn. All three of them were asleep. Dawn looked to be the most comfortable, her legs splayed out, her breathing deep and even. Buffy’s breathing was more shallow, broken by uneven hitching and occasional sniffles. Tara imagined it was because of the crying earlier. She had little doubt that the tears were nightmare induced. As she watched, Buffy’s fingers scrabbled and clawed at Spike’s shirt, then stilled as his hand almost automatically soothed her. His breathing, while completely unnecessary, was slow and even. Well, slow in that for every count of a hundred or so, Spike inhaled or exhaled.

Tara stifled a completely inappropriate giggle, settling instead on a genuine smile. She decided perhaps, having the nap first was the best course of action. Closing the door softly behind her, Tara went back downstairs securing all the locks, before heading back to her room.

It was only ten in the morning. Tara did a double take at the alarm clock. Was that right? It felt like hours later. Setting the alarm for two, Tara climbed under the covers and tried to rest.

Her last coherent thought was to wonder who was going to get Mr. Giles from the airport.


******************************* *******************************


There was no air. She couldn’t breathe. There was no escape. She had to get out . . . Had to escape. No air. Scrambling at the fabric covering her face, she tried punching through the wood. No air. No air. NO AIR. She screamed, pounding against the wood. No . . . it wouldn’t give. No air. Desperate now, she tried again to punch through the wood, scratching and clawing at it in her desperation to escape. Out. Need to get out. Please help me out. No air. No air. Whimpers and moans escaped from her clenched teeth. No air. No escape. No . . . she couldn’t stay here. To stay was to die. Swinging her fist, she pounded against the wood.

The first indication he had that something was wrong again was the small fist battering his chest. Coming awake in a rush, Spike had barely enough time to bring up his hand to ward off a blow to his nose. His first and last instinct was to lash out in retaliation but when the hand was clasped in his struck hard, he woke fully. It was Buffy, in the throes of a doozy of a nightmare, still sound asleep.

This he could control. Untangling his arms, Spike gently but firmly grasped her flailing arms. Thankfully, her feet were still tucked up underneath her, otherwise this would be a helluva lot harder. Momentarily distracted while he made certain her feet were trapped, he let slip one of her fists, which promptly caught the side of her sister’s head. Dawn came to with a start, all set to do battle and strike back, until the sleep cleared from her eyes and she realized what was happening.

Poor Buffy was her only thought. Deep in the grip of the nightmare, Buffy wasn’t responding to Spike’s voice at all. Curling up as far away from them that she could get, yet still remaining on the bed, Dawn finally realized just how bad it was. Buffy was wild, uncontrollable and absolutely bone-deep terrified.

She didn’t think anything could ever scare her sister. Didn’t think the monster existed that Buffy couldn’t beat. Until now. This was horrible. Dawn finally discovered that her sister wasn’t invulnerable, wasn’t super-hero girl and it shook her to the core.

What amazed her though, was Spike’s patience. He held her, protected her from herself, captured her wild fists and never once lost his temper or let her get to him. It seemed to go on forever, the crying and trying to get out of the imaginary box her sister’s mind told her she was trapped inside. Her own tears slid unnoticed down her cheeks, her hand covering her mouth. Dawn didn’t know what, if anything she should try to do. And she didn’t dare ask Spike, because he needed to concentrate on calming Buffy.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when Tara’s hand dropped down on her shoulder. Tara leaned down, whispering softly, “come help me sweetie.”

Silently she crawled off the bed, her eyes still focused on the two still there.

Spike was not having fun. Nothing he said or did seemed to reach through to Buffy. His voice never hesitated, never stopped, his hands constantly trying to soothe her. He’d run out of things to say, and for once at a loss, started humming some old lullabies. There was a split second hesitation, a mere hitch in her harsh breathing, but Spike sensed it. Figuring it had as good a chance of working as anything else he’d done, Spike started humming, even though he felt ridiculous for doing so.

And, miracle of miracles, Buffy’s sobs slowed down, her fists stopped trying to escape his hold and she eventually collapsed against his chest.

Long, long minutes they stayed like that.

[A/N: The title is from a poem by John Donne (1573 - 1631), English poet and sometime mystic. If you’ve never read his works, its always an interesting read. The quotes are as attributed, and standard disclaimers in full force and effect. Oh, just in case anyone’s wondering, this is unbeta’d though I suppose I could get it beta’d if I had the nerve to send it off to someone for a critique. Oh well. I’m just doing this for the sake of telling a story. With any luck it will at least be readable.]

Previously: Buffy’s back, Giles is on his way back to Sunnydale, while Spike, Tara and Dawn try to keep Buffy calm. Willow’s still out and now Xander and Anya have to be told. This picks up much later in the day, nearly 24 hours after Giles first got on the plane to head to London.

15. Resurrection, imperfect.

A ministering angel shall my sister be.
Hamlet, act v, sc. 1

However, there is a locked room up there
With an iron door that can’t be opened.
It has all your bad dreams in it.
It is hell.
Anne Sexton, Locked Doors

O, I have passed a miserable night,
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights
Richard III, act 1, sc 4

Dreams pursue death as winds a flying fire,
Our dreams pursue our dead and do not find.
A.C. Swinbourne, Ave atque Vale, l 94 - 95


Tara and Dawn had crept out of Buffy’s room, then stumbled their way into the room Tara shared with Willow. It was only about noon or so, and Tara needed sleep. Buffy appeared to be calm, and even if she wasn’t there wasn’t a thing either of the two of them could do for her. Neither one was strong enough to control her if she swung her fists or kicked, given the slayer’s strength. Better let Spike handle it, at least until Mr. Giles came home and they could figure out something. She looked over at the clock again. The last nightmare happened about two hours before this one. Just enough time for Buffy to sleep deeply and give over to the dream-state.

Mr. Giles was due to arrive around five, and thinking quickly, Tara made the decision to call the Magic Box for the second time that day and ask Anya if she and Xander would pick him up at the airport before coming back for dinner. Thankfully, the shop was very busy, so Anya didn’t have time to ask the questions Tara knew were forming. Right now it was easier to give her evasive answers, rather than slip up and inadvertently give Anya too much information. Settling down onto the bed, Tara tossed the sheet over Dawn, then tried to get comfortable.

There was too much to do and she couldn’t get her mind to settle down. There were soft noises coming from Buffy’s room, mostly Spike’s voice, and the occasional cry from Buffy. This was not good. In fact, none of this was good. Her mind kept circling back to what Willow had done and now, seeing the effects on Buffy, it only solidified the idea that what her girlfriend had done was wrong, even if she’d rescued Buffy from a hell dimension.

That was something else they needed to figure out, what exactly Willow had done, and how she’d managed to do it. Ignoring her tired body, Tara stopped fooling herself and got out of bed. Rummaging through her drawers, she got out clean clothes, then headed for the bathroom to shower. Dawn’s sleepy voice stopped her.

“Tara? What’s going to happen now?”

“I’m not sure sweetie. I know Spike talked to Mr. Giles and that he’s on his way back here now. Xander and Anya are going to pick him up at the airport, then head here for dinner.“
It was easy to slip into the care-taker role, easy to slide back into that than keep up the pretense that she was in control. “Do you want to help me get ready for dinner and everything?”

Thinking about it momentarily, Dawn shook her head “yeah, just give me a couple of minutes to wake up. I’m all sore and achy.”

“I know. Me too.” Tara wrinkled her nose, then indicated the bundle of clothing in her hand, “I’m gonna head into the shower first.”


******************************* *******************************


His headache was now full blown migraine of mammoth proportions, with expectations of expanding into a hemorrhage. The force air circulating through the cabin was absolutely vile and the forced smiles on the faces of the stewardesses was enough to make him want to inflict bodily harm on everyone in sight. Giles tried to unclench his jaw, but the effort was beyond him.

The thought of what might be waiting for him in Sunnydale was just too much to even contemplate. No idea what physical shape Buffy was in, or what her mental state might be like, Giles was forced to speculate and use his considerable imagination. It only made the pain in his head increase. Not to mention what it did to his heart.

He was beyond rage, beyond shock. This was quite simply the single most astounding event of his life. Willow had managed to retrieve Buffy, in effect bring her back from the dead. Putting aside his utter joy at having Buffy back, what remained was a completely dangerous ritual performed by a woman barely out of her teens. The power she’d called upon, generated and harnessed must have been staggering. Giles caught himself grinning like an idiot. Wait . . . you bugger. It had taken enormous amounts of power. Dear god in heaven. What had she done? What forces had Willow called upon – and from where – Giles’ head was rapidly filling with numerous possible scenarios – and where she’d performed the ritual. None of his visuals was comforting.

Glancing down at his watch, Giles idly noted that it was only about half past noon in California. He had another five hours before debarking. Resting his head against the back of his seat, Giles willed away the extraneous distractions, instead focusing his attention on Buffy.

His girl was alive and seemingly safe. Abruptly, Giles realised that his conversation with Spike hadn’t been very informative. Merely just a few words ‘Red brought Buffy back’ and then ‘had to crawl out. She’s not speaking yet’. He had no other indication of how other than what damned little Spike had told him. Not nearly enough information. And good gods, how the hell was he going to explain this one to the Council? First she was dead and now she wasn’t. He couldn’t formulate a plan until he had all the information and he doubted even then he’d be able to come up with something a bit more rational than what he was thinking.

Right now though, what he needed was something to drink and some painkillers. Settling his nerves for the saccharine sweetness of the flight attendant, Giles hit the call button, prepared to do anything for a double scotch and panadol.


******************************* *******************************


Between the two of them, they’d managed to put together a decent meal, move Willow upstairs without Spike’s help, and get the house cleaned up long before Xander, Anya and Giles were scheduled to arrive. The hardest part had been carrying Willow up the stairs, but they’d slung her out flat, and with Tara holding up her head, Dawn at her feet they’d carried her up that way. Willow hadn’t woken, which was good, because Tara had no idea if the binding would work if she wasn’t asleep. Given the amount of power Willow had been able to call upon, Tara sincerely doubted the binding spell would hold her very long. They’d managed though and now Willow was upstairs tucked away safely in their bed.

Which left the other two occupants of the house still upstairs. After the last nightmare, Buffy had calmed sufficiently and appeared to be sleeping quietly, if not deeply. Spike was also drifting in and out of sleep, aware every time there was a shift in Buffy’s breathing or her muscles twitched. Tara’d been up to check on them twice and Dawn had snuck up once, an unspoken agreement between the two to alternate visits. Dawn just needed to know that they were both still there, still breathing and that he was watching out for her sister.

Last time she’d been up, Buffy had been curled up next to him, his right hand on her hip, just making sure she was there. It was cute, Dawn thought, how much he was watching over her. What wasn’t cute were the tear tracks on her sister’s face or the harsh lines marking her features. What really really wasn’t cute were the nightmares that she’d had this morning. This wasn’t fair. None of this was right. Sudden anger with Willow ripped through Dawn. Buffy shouldn’t be like this . . . this beaten, this bruised and this . . scared. It just wasn’t right.

Once more she opened the door to her sister’s bedroom, peeking her head just in the door. They’d shifted positions, Spike was now on his side, nearly laying down on the bed, facing her sister, who had her head against his chest, her hand fisted in his shirt. Now his left hand was curled over her hip and as Dawn watched Buffy softly cried out in her sleep, her entire body twitching. Without waking up, Spike ran his hand up and down her side, a low rumble coming from somewhere deep. Wasn’t really a soothing sound, but it seemed to work, because the twitching stopped within seconds. About to sneak the door closed, Spike’s voice caught her.

“‘s all right Nib, c’mon in if you want. Neither one of us is really asleep.”

Almost stumbling against the door, Dawn responded without looking back. “Nah, just checking. You guys should stay up here and rest.”

An ironic chuckle sounded in the still afternoon air. “Dunno how much rest we’re gettin’ Bit. Sis keeps keening and weeping. More like just laying about ‘coz its easier than being up.”

“I get that.” She thought a moment, then whispered, “how is she really?”

Spike waited a beat, trying to formulate a response, when Buffy’s voice sounded in the air. “Tired, Dawnie. Not so good.”

The surprise was clear on both their faces and they tried to apologize for disturbing her. “Sorry pet” and “oops my bad” came at her from two directions. Buffy just shook her head, whispering ‘its okay. Can’t really sleep much anyway.”

“Do you need anything?” Dawn figured if nothing else, she might be thirsty.

“Just water. That would be good.” Buffy’s voice was harsh from long disuse and excessive crying.

Without another word, Dawn left, leaving the two of them alone. Buffy cleared her throat, absently wiping her eyes on Spike’s already soaked tee-shirt. Neither one of them had slept much, not since the last nightmare. She actually didn’t know what to say to him, didn’t know how to explain. The only thing Buffy was sure of at the moment was that being here, right now, was so hard. She was tired, drained and just plain . . . it felt like every bone in her body was blasted hollow, her skin was brittle and hypersensitive, every noise and bright light confused and startled her. How the only thing that kept her from screaming and clawing and crying and huddling in a ball and hiding and trembling and the fear at bay was his presence and hearing Dawn’s voice. They were the only things keeping her sane right now.

“Thank you. I don’t . . thanks.” Her whisper was a bare noise mostly just a soft sound spoken into his chest.

“Told you pet, no worries. S’okay.” Spike rolled over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

Buffy left her fist in his shirt, needing the contact. The only light in the room was from the partially closed curtains, but it was still bright enough to cause her problems. Her eyes watered constantly, whether from actively crying or just because she still had so much sensitivity to the light. Wiping them again with the back of her hand, Buffy tried one more time. “Spike . . .”

Just the sound of his name coming from her was enough to cause a smile. “Pet, leave it be.”

He didn’t turn his head to look, feeling the reluctant nod of her head. The last thing he wanted her to do was worry about thanking him. She didn’t need to be worrying about him at all, just herself. Sooner she realized that, better off she’d be. Sitting up, he stretched accidently disengaging her hand from his shirt. Buffy whimpered a bit, drawing his attention. “Just need to get up. Not leaving.”

Curling herself up, Buffy watched him walk around her room, tracking his every movement. “How long was I gone?”

Staring down at the cross and stakes that had been left piled on her dresser, Spike quickly calculated the time. “Too bloody long.”

Not accepting the vague answer, she questioned him again. “How long?”

“Hundred or so days.” Still avoiding her gaze, Spike paced around a bit more. “Right, exactly hundred twenty nine and a half days, give or take an hour or two.”

“You counted the hours?” her tone indicated that she almost believed he would do something like that.

“Got bored some nights, figured the time out.” Was his utterly sheepish response.

His honesty was rewarded with a very soft giggle. Turning his head at the sound, his sharp gaze softened as he looked at her. “What about you pet? How was it for you?”

Instantly tears sprang to her eyes but didn’t fall. “I don’t know. Felt like forever.” Her lower lip quivered a bit, then she got hold of herself. “It was quiet and . . . quiet.”

Buggering hell. His suspicions over her whereabouts were very nearly confirmed, and Spike wanted to rip something apart in his sudden rage. Not wanting her to see the fury he knew was flickering in his eyes, Spike lowered his gaze to the floor. “So sorry pet.” he whispered.

“Not your fault at all, none of this.” She couldn’t understand why his mood changed so quickly.

“Should’ve moved faster, done something different, yeah?” He turned away, focusing a hard stare at the wall. “Shouldn’t have had to . . .do what you did.”

Her turn now to avoid his glance. “I had too. Couldn’t let Dawnie do it.”

He huffed out his response “yeah. Neither one of you should have. Should’ve been me.“ he ran his hand through his hair, agitation clear in his stance. “Couldn’t protect her like I promised. Couldn’t save her” he paused inhaling needlessly “or you.”

This time she did look at him. “No. You did your best, its all I wanted, all I could ask for.”

“Best. No, wasn’t good enough by half.” He’d never stop blaming himself for what happened that night, his complete and utter failure to protect both of Joyce’s girls.

“I knew one of us wouldn’t make it.” Her resolute tone shocked him into really looking at her.

There was almost nothing he could say to that. At the time, he’d thought that was what she was thinking, that if it came down to it, she’d willingly die to protect Dawn. Well, she had died to protect her sister. And now she was back, telling him exactly that.

“Looked after her while you were gone, looked after all of them.” It was the only thing he could think of to say.

She smiled the first real smile she’d given anyone since last night. “Had a feeling you would.”

Grinning back at her, he thought perhaps she might recover after all. “Yeah, well, made a promise to a lady. Had to keep it somehow.”

Her next comment took him completely by surprise and effectively shut his mouth. “I expected you’d do just that and do it well.”

Bloody woman.[A/N: Title is from an INXS song of the same name. Gotta love those Aussie boys. May Michael Hutchence rest in peace. Quotes as attributed, as always. Disclaimers, unfortunately still the same.]

Previously: Buffy’s back, Giles is about to land at the Airport. Xander and Anya are about to find out . . .

16. Beautiful girl, stay with me.

Suddenly everywhere
Clouds and waves are one,
The storm has cleared the air
The sea holds the sun
And the blue sky –
There is no under, no above
All is light, all is love
Is it like this when you die?
Eva Gore-Booth

I am the daughter of Earth and Water,
And the nursling of the Sky,
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores,
I change, but I cannot die
Percy Bysshe Shelley, The Cloud


Xander was repeating himself, which was driving Anya to distraction. “I don’t know. The store was busy, Tara didn’t say much.”

“Okay. I get that. But you’re sure she said pick Giles up at the airport?” He just needed to hear it again.

Anya rolled her eyes, replying in an annoying monotone that she normally reserved for the terminally dense, “yes Xander, Tara called earlier and invited us for dinner. Then she called back and asked if we could pick Giles up at the airport.” Waiting a beat, she launched into her personal commentary, “I don’t know why he’s returning so soon. He must have forgotten something important, like his passport or his glasses and that would explain why he had to come right back wouldn’t it?”

Half listening, half totally ignoring her, Xander scanned the crowd of departing passengers. Mumbling some sort of response to his girlfriend, Xander craned his neck.

“Oh, there he is.” Anya tugged at his arm, pulling him off to the right.

Giles looked like hell and his clothes were completely rumpled. Smiling weakly, he nodded his greetings.

“What happened? What did you forget?” Anya chirped at him, looking him over. “God you look awful.”

“Thank you Anya for your keen observation.” Giles threw out his dry response, leaning down to get his bags.

Not giving either of them another chance to speak, Giles headed for the exit. “Shall we?”

Shrugging and exchanging confused glances, the couple followed him out.

“He’s awfully grumpy.” Latching onto Xander’s arm again, Anya remarked “probably too much time cooped up with strange people.”

“Right Ahn, coz there’s no strange people in Sunnydale.”

Giles ignored them and their banter out of the airport and all the way back to Revello Drive.


******************************** ******************************


She was alone, for the first time since her return. Dawn was showering while Tara and Spike were some where else in the house. She wasn’t sure she liked being alone because the memories were harder to fight. It was easier when someone else was nearby. Buffy liked having Tara around, it was comfortable. Having Dawn around was good too, but in a slightly different way, but having Spike around was . . . she didn’t have to be strong or pretend to be okay with him. Spike was comforting.

Buffy was pretty sure though that one of the last things he’d wanted to be called was comforting. It didn’t suit his image. Too bad because he was really good at it.

Nearly all her memories had returned, though some things were still hazy, she pretty much had it all back.

Especially those last months since her mother died. The last nights too, were very clear. Losing Dawn. The fight with Giles. That last conversation with Spike and facing Glory.

The jump wasn’t so clear, neither was what came after. It hurt too much to think about. She didn’t want to remember . . . suddenly tears filled her eyes and she couldn’t stop. Whimpers filled her ears and she clutched at the pillows. Can’t think about it. Don’t wanna think about it. Buffy pulled her feet onto the bed, new tears flooding her eyes.

Rocking back and forth she dragged a pillow to her face, heaving great gulping sobs into the fluffy depths. Suddenly, strong cool hands were at her arms, gently removing the pillow from her grip.

“‘s all right slayer. Sssshhhh.” He figured this was gonna keep happening for a while least until she got a bit more used to being back.

Nonsense words kept flowing from his mouth and it wasn’t long before she calmed again. She felt like such a . . . “gotta stop doing this.”

She wasn’t really speaking to him, more like just speaking out loud to herself, trying to reach some semblance of control. Being this weak wasn’t like her, but she couldn’t seem to stop. Buffy was very grateful for Spike’s presence, because he didn’t make her feel badly for her current state, didn’t comment or make snide remarks, just let her be until she got herself together. It was nice.

Listening to his voice was nice too.

“It’s gone five, Rupert will be landing about now. Xander and Anya are picking him up, then coming here. You gonna be okay for this?” Spike held her in a loose embrace, catching her up on what was about to happen.

“Giles is coming back? Where was he?” She was so confused.

Right. She didn’t know anything that had been going on, so he needed to fill her in on all that as well. “Ah, yeah. Watcher left yesterday, Council called him back. He called while you were still out of it, told him to come right back home. Harris and the bird don’t know about you ‘t all.”

“So everyone is coming here?” Buffy cringed a bit, not really wanting to face so many people all at once.

“Yeah well, seems like its best to get this over with, then suss out what to do next.” Releasing her, Spike sat back on his heels.

“Gotta tell them all sooner or later, might as well be now. You need to know some things also, pet. “ why he had to be the one to break this news to her he had no idea, but since he knew nearly as much as Tara did, might as well be him. And he would rather it come from him anyway. “Red worked some mojo to bring you back. Used a forgetting potion on Niblet and Glinda too, so they didn’t know what she was up to.”

Buffy sat there quietly, just listening to his explanation. He hesitated, waiting a moment to see if she was going to say something, but she kept her silence. “Tara thinks something went wrong with the magics, ‘s that’s why you had to climb out. Not really sure ‘bout that m’self.”

Spike started pacing back and forth in her room. “Dunno much, maybe we’ll know more when Red wakes up. Ah, Glinda put her under using her own mojo. Something about a goddess comin’ to speak with her. Said it best we wait until Rupes was back.”

He stopped talking, idly running a stake through his fingers, just waiting for her to say anything in response. Buffy was just processing it all. So it was Willow. That was something she hadn’t expected. She really didn’t know what to say. Looking up at him standing there, Buffy had the sudden realization that Spike didn’t have anything to do with whatever had happened. Some sense of intuition told her that whatever had been done, was done without his knowledge and that part of him was truly furious with everything. She didn’t know what that meant or what was going to happen, but it was clear in his stance that some sort of reckoning was going to occur when Willow woke up. And Buffy was okay with that.

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him. Tell him what she remembered about where she had been. But the words were stuck there, unable to be voiced aloud. If she said them, that made it real. Made it a fact. Something she couldn’t avoid. She couldn’t hide from it. She knew Spike too well to say something like this to him and ask him to leave it alone. That wasn’t in his nature at all. He faced things head on, never once flinching from the truth. And if he knew, he wouldn’t let her hide from it, or hide it from her friends. Instead of telling him, she blurted out the other thing on her mind.

“You’re gonna stay, right? Not gonna leave?”

Oh god. She hated sounding so needy. Buffy almost cringed at the pleading tone in her voice, until she caught the look on his face.

“Made you a promise, pet. Not going anywhere, til you drive me away.” He gave her a half smile, conveying nearly as much as his words.


******************************* ***************************************


There were new noises downstairs, voices speaking and doors opening and closing. Buffy could hear everything, since Spike had left the door open just a bit. He’d left her here, going downstairs for just a moment to get something to eat. Spike had promised her that he’d be up with more soup for her and to bring her downstairs to face the others.

Buffy heard the voices, knowing who was there, she strained hard to make out the words. Unknowingly she pulled away from the door, huddling back on the bed. She didn’t want to go down there. Didn’t want to face anyone. Fear set in and the shaking started. Buffy couldn’t control it or the tears.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, driving her further back on the bed. Almost cowering in the corner, Buffy raised her hands up to protect herself.


******************************* ***************************************


They knocked at the door, then walked right in, Xander’s voice calling out his hellos to everyone. Tara raised her eyes to Spike, as he turned to remove Buffy’s soup from the microwave. They hadn’t discussed how to handle this – hadn’t had the time to do more than make Dawn promise not to blurt things out.

Her whispered “I’ll get them settled into the living room, then we’ll wait for you to come down.”

He nodded once his focus on not spilling the soup. Tara moved out into the hallway, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Hi Mr. Giles. You’re back?” She decided playing semi-stupid would work.

“It would appear so. Had some problems to take care of.” Picking up on her pretense, Giles played along.

No one paid any attention when Spike slipped down the hallway and up the stairs. Xander was moving around the living room, while Anya perched on the couch, thumbing through one of their old magazines.

“So where are the girls and dead boy?” Xander grabbed the remote, flicking on the television.

“Up . . upstairs getting ready.” Wasn’t completely untrue. The girls were upstairs getting ready, just not the girls Xander meant.

“Hey guys” Dawn fairly slid down the stairs, stopping short at the bottom, when she spied Giles. Her shriek of surprise and big hug were fake, but neither Xander nor Anya noticed.

A rather uncomfortable silence settled on the room.


******************************* *******************************


Spike pushed through the door, bowl of soup clutched in one hand and bread in the other. “Thought this might do you pet.”

He stopped short, seeing Buffy huddled up on the bed, leaning heavily against the headboard. Her shaking was visible from where he stood. Spike swore softly under his breath, dropping the two items on her bedside table.

“Hey pet, ‘s just me. Relax.” He approached her slowly, knowing she wasn’t quite okay.

“C’mon luv, settle down. It’s only your mates.” Buffy shook harder, moving away from his voice. “Hey, hey, c’mon kitten, its okay.”

This episode wasn’t as bad as the earlier ones, seemed like this was more a case of nerves than anything else. Spike had no doubt that she would snap out of it quickly and she proved his guess right when she wiped her eyes and drew in a deep breath. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy, in fact it was going to be very difficult, but she wasn’t all chosen-like because she gave up when things got hard. If anything she dug in her heels and got stubborn about it.

Raising her eyes to his, Buffy straightened her shoulders, stretched out her hand to clasp his. “Thanks Spike.”

There was more she wanted to say, but couldn’t force the words passed her lips. He would understand that she couldn’t talk right now. Was almost afraid to talk.

“Eat some soup before we go downstairs.” Handing her the bowl, Spike got up from the bed and paced around the room.

Watching him, Buffy idly noted that it was a rare thing that he just sat and did nothing. He was such a bundle of energy, it was fascinating to watch. Even when he was still, something was moving, whether it was his leg, or fiddling with some item in his hands or his mouth was working, Spike was never still. She used to find it annoying. She used to find everything about Spike annoying. From the tips of his bleached head to the bottoms of his clunky black boots, she had hated him. That was before.

Before Dawn. Before Glory.

Before she jumped.


******************************* *******************************


Xander was still flicking through the channels and Giles was stretched out on the couch, resting his eyes. The three girls had moved to the kitchen, getting the dinner ready. Neither Dawn nor Tara spoke much, letting Anya chatter away about her day. It was easier, because neither one of them wanted to let anything about Buffy slip out before she was ready to come down the stairs.

Tara had decided on pasta, thinking that if Buffy were able to eat, this would be mild enough. Everything else was ready. They were only waiting on the two upstairs.

Thundering footsteps came flying down, startling everyone. Spike rounded the corner of the staircase, his voice carrying in the quiet. “Watcher. What the hell are you doing back here?”

The feigned confusion went unnoticed. Xander ignored him like always and the girls kept silent. Giles however, snorted his disbelief, then opened a single eye and replied “had some unfinished business to take care of, got held over in New York and decided to return here instead.”

Spike was impressed. Nice cover there mate. He nodded quickly in acknowledgment. Then asked the girls “when’s that dinner ready?”

Dawn rolled her eyes at the silly pretending but went along with it. “Soon. Why you gotta go somewhere?”

“Something like that.” He thought for a moment, mumbling what sounded like “gotta patrol this bloody place.”

Tara finally got really tired of the silly games. “Dinner is just about ready Spike.”

He caught her look, turning right back around to go get Buffy. “Just be mo’.”

Taking the stairs two at a time, he nearly flew up the stairs.

Anya walked into the living room, getting the men’s attention. “Tara says dinner is ready.”

Wandering into the kitchen, everyone grabbed a plate, filling it and then moving into the dining room. They were all seated except Tara when they heard footsteps on the stairs. Thinking it was just Spike, neither Xander nor Anya looked up, but Giles had his gaze riveted to the open doorway.

Spike stood there, blocking everyone’s view of the slayer, his voice ringing out, “didn’t wait for me didya?”

“Why should we wait . . . . “

Xander’s voice trailed off and everyone froze.

Spike moved to his left, giving everyone a clear view of what he’d been blocking.

Buffy.

[A/N: This has been an interesting ride so far. I’m having a blast writing this. Onward and upward we go. Title is from that sort of famous Irish group, as is the quote. First time I saw them it was 1982 and they sucked, but there was something about them. Just kind of knew they were gonna be special. I’m really glad they’ve gotten a little bit better. Nice to see them eligible for the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Slainte, one and all. Disclaimers haven’t changed, but I’m thinking of working on Joss now that he’s got some idle time.]

Previously: Everyone is at Revello Drive and seen Buffy (except for Willow). Let the explanations begin . . .

17. A Sort of Homecoming

Tonight we’ll build a bridge across the sea and land
See the sky, the burning rain
She will die and live again
Tonight

And your heart beats so slow
Through the rain and fallen snow
Across the fields of mourning
To a light that’s in the distance

Oh, don’t sorrow
No don’t weep for tonight, at last
I am coming home
I am coming home
From the album The Unforgettable Fire.



There wasn’t a sound in the house. Xander, Anya and Giles all stared at Buffy, who stood quietly in the dining room’s entrance, eyes wide and wary. Spike and Tara exchanged a look, both of them worried about Buffy’s reaction. Giles’ face had such an indescribable look upon it, something Spike was reluctant to witness. Xander’s features were a study in comical disbelief and staggering hope, so much so that Tara was forced to suppress the little giggle that was burbling in her belly. Anya, on the other hand, had her head cocked slightly to the side, intently studying the slayer.

Buffy started fidgeting, wringing her hands together. Her eyes lowered, then she snuck a glance to her side, noting Spike at her side, lounging against the wall, his arms crossed across his chest. Sweeping her downcast gaze across the others, Buffy smiled slightly at the expressions on Tara’s and Dawn’s faces. Dawn was practically bouncing in her seat, a Chesire cat grin gracing her features. Buffy smiled a little wider in response, which broke the silence.

“Oh dear lord.” Giles breathed out the words, getting up from his chair.

He reached out to Buffy, hesitating just a bit when she flinched back from him. When she relaxed, the Englishman moved to hug her. He couldn’t speak, not for lack of trying though. His emotions just weren’t able to be put into words. Buffy seemed to be suffering from much the same, since all she did was hold him close. Her face was turned to the side, where Spike was standing and he saw the relief settle on her features.

Little tears slipped from beneath her closed lashes. There was a bit of peace on her face also, like she had needed this comfort from her watcher. A tiny niggle of jealousy crept into his heart and he quickly squashed it. He knew she didn’t think about Giles that way, was obvious long before this that she had put him into a fatherly slot.

Xander was frozen in place. Unable to move or think and barely breathing. His entire system was in shock. Buffy was standing there. In the flesh. Complete. How he knew it wasn’t the Buffybot he wasn’t sure. At least not until Giles got up to hug her. That’s when his composure broke. Xander put his food down, swallowing loudly. His mouth opened and closed, opened and closed, no sound coming out.

Anya was the first one to speak. “Is that really you? How did you – what happened?”

Without letting Giles go, Buffy spoke. “Yes its me.”

Pushing back his chair with a loud noise, Xander got to his feet.

“Buffy.” His voice broke and Xander stood still, gulping breaths heaving in his chest.

Breaking free from Giles’ embrace, Buffy moved around the older man to face one of her best friends. “Hey Xan. You okay?”

It was obvious that he wasn’t, but the absurdity of her questioning how he was broke his silence. His nervous laugh ended in a catch, as he opened his arms to her. Again there was a moment of hesitation before she moved to hug him back.

This was hard, harder than she’d expected. It wasn’t comfortable being here right now. The lights hurt her eyes and every noise startled her. Sudden movements weren’t much better, because when Anya jumped up to join their hug, Buffy visibly jumped, breaking away from Xander.

“You okay?” Xander’s voice was full of concern.

Buffy shook her head, stepping back a bit. Unconsciously moving closer to Spike she barely refrained from backing into his chest. At her movement backwards, he’d straightened away from the wall. Bare inches separated them and she could feel his supporting presence like a rock behind her.

Sensing her skittishness, Anya paused, waiting until Buffy composed herself. It took a moment, but when she smiled at the former demon, Anya stepped forward to hug her.

“Welcome back. Even though I don’t know where you were or how you got back. It’s good to see you, even if you do look like hell.”

Leave it to Anya to state the obvious. Spike snorted a laugh, while her disingenuous words broke the tension engulfing the room.

“Well then” came from Giles, while Tara motioned her to a chair, “here Buffy I fixed you some plain noodles.”

Somehow they all settled into seats, even Spike, who piled his plate with pasta garnished with hot sauce. There was silence for a little bit longer, when all at once the dam broke for once and all.

“What happened?”

“How did you get back?”

“When did this happen?”

And the one question Buffy had no intention of answering for a very long time “where were you?”

Looking up from her plate, Buffy said the only thing she could think of, “I don’t remember much of anything.”

There was more babbling, which she tried to tune out, but as the voices got louder, Buffy flinched more and more. Spike’s voice cut through the chatter. Despite the volume of his voice and the aggravated tone, Buffy visibly relaxed. Well visibly to the two people who were paying close attention to her. Both Tara and Spike had been watching her, each of them ready to jump in if things got too rough. That it was Spike that reacted first was of little surprise to the wiccan.

His protective instincts were always hyper, especially when his emotions were engaged and they were most definitely whenever Buffy was involved.

“Hold your water all.” Cutting across all their questions, Spike drew everyone’s attention. “Leave off and let’s do this slow, yeah?”

Even Giles held back a comment. Waiting a beat to make sure he wasn’t going to be interrupted, Spike spoke again. “Don’t think the Slayer has many answers, but Glinda might.”

Never comfortable with being the center of attention, Tara nearly froze when everyone’s gaze riveted to her. A very nervous smile crossed her face and Tara shot Spike a glance that spoke volumes about payback.

Hesitant at first, but each moment gaining more confidence, Tara quickly went over the events of the previous night. She left nothing out, including her suspicions about Willow. When Xander gasped and dropped his hand back down to the table, she knew that he’d known something.

Giles let her finish without interrupting. Her voice trailed off after she told them about binding her girlfriend. That was when he spoke. “Where is she now?”

No one’d noticed it until then, not even Spike. But all at once the fury Giles had been concealing was laid bare.

“Upstairs in our room” was Tara’s softly worded response.

“Giles” Xander cleared his throat, not really certain he wanted to draw the older man’s attention, but knowing he had too. “Couple of months ago, I thought Willow was acting strange. She told me she was planning this.”

The look Giles shot him was enough to freeze alcohol, but the tone of his voice could’ve drawn blood. “And you just decide to keep this too yourself?”

“She thought . . . she told me you’d try to stop her . . . that you wouldn’t let her do it it. Said something about you thinking she couldn’t do it, that it would be dangerous.” He was flustered and confused, but they were almost all acting like they weren’t happy about Buffy being back, which he didn’t understand at all.

“Thing is whelp, there’s always a price. Magic this strong always has consequences.” Spike’s tone was no less blood-freezing than Giles’ but Xander wasn’t afraid of him – he couldn’t act on his anger.

“Right. And you can’t tell me you’re not jumping for joy that she’s back.” Xander couldn’t resist.

“Oh I’m happy, all right, that she’s here. Just not over the moon ‘bout how she got here is all.” No reason to lie to anyone. There was real fire in his eyes now, but Buffy’s hand on his tensed arm drew his focus.

“Spike’s right.” Tara’s voice sounded in the charged air. “Magic . . . the rule . . for every action, equal and opposite reaction.” Glancing once at Buffy in apology, Tara continued “but even more, she shouldn’t have had to come back that way.”

Now Xander was truly bewildered. “What way. . . what are you talking about?”

His eyes on the girl beside him, Spike ground out “had to crawl her way out.” As he watched Buffy’s eyes closed. He waited until she was ready for him to continue. “Yeah, Red’s mojo worked, but only not so well. Found her just after she’d dug her way out of her own grave.”

This time there was no break of the silence.


******************************* *******************************


There really hadn’t been much to say after that. A little more conversation, some food eaten, desultory conversation between those willing to engage in idle chatter and then suddenly, it was time for him to go out and patrol.

Warring with his desire to stay close and protect his humans, was Spike’s desperate need to thrash something – anything – to within an inch of its life, and then stomp it into hell. Giving into the bloodthirst, he’d waiting only long enough to make sure everyone was settled before heading away from Revello.

Time to battle the nasties.

Exerting a bit of pressure on the whelp earlier, Giles had gotten everything he knew out of him. Which hadn’t been much. It was enough, would serve as a starting point, but they wouldn’t have all the answers until they woke Red. Knowing Rupert, that would be sometime in the morning. The watcher’s anger fueled adrenaline rush hadn’t lasted long and by the time Spike had been ready to go kill something, Rupert had been fighting sleep. Buffy wasn’t much better. So Xander and his girl had toddled off, while the others settled in for the night.

When he’d left, Giles’ snores could be heard at the front door and Dawn’s stereo hummed away. Buffy and Dawn had retreated upstairs, for some sister time.

Making his way methodically and quickly through the cemeteries, Spike wasted no time hanging about waiting for any nasties too shy to come out and play.

The three vamps he’d dispatched already were just minor blips, not even worthy of his wasting a breath on. After last night, things were strangely quiet. He really hated nights like this, especially when he was craving some bloodsport.

Bypassing Willie’s and the Bronze, Spike headed for Glory’s tower. He’d promised the watcher and the witch he’d take a look around, see if anything came through the portal before they’d managed to close it.

Long before he was in sight range, Spike’s other senses went haywire. The energy was pulsing and there was a stench lingering in the air that was a cross between dump waste and rotting horseflesh. It was so strong he could almost taste it. He slowed his approach, straining his ears for any sound. There was a note of fresh rich blood in the air as counterpoint and Spike had to shake himself to stay out of game face.

Oh yeah. That was the good stuff, and more than one by the strength of it. He’d never admit it, not to any of his humans and especially not the Slayer, but he loved the scent of teenaged girls blood. It was better than the best scotch, better than . . . well blood and sex still made his mouth water. He expected they always would.

And right now, that’s what he smelled, blood and sex, under cut with that foul stench. Following his nose, Spike veered to his left, where the blood was strongest.

Judging by the amount of blood in the air, whatever had killed hadn’t either been very hungry, which left out vamps, or was just incredibly messy which left the possibilities wide open. Almost tripping over the first body, Spike eliminated any thoughts of vamps at all.

The construction site that Glory had commandeered for her tower was riddled with closed off areas, ideal for nesting nasties or the kind that killed, dumped and ran.

Had to be at least six girls here. At first glance he saw enough body parts for that anyway. Stepping behind a pile of wood and cement, Spike found the hiding hole of something very large.

Blood and gore was splattered nearly ten feet above his head. Most of it was fairly fresh, sometime in the last twenty-four hours. Which gave him an indication that whatever it was had just arrived in Sunnyhell – further indicating again that this nasty just might have slipped through Red’s doorway.

Which just added to his anger. Bitch. Just blindly gone ahead – opening portals that had no business being opened – bringing her back that way.

Fucking hell.

This was just . . . wrenching his attention back to the matter at hand, Spike pushed all thoughts of Willow from his head. All this blood was just gonna draw scavengers. Unless, yeah, what the hell, why not.

Searching around, Spike found a couple of half full gas cans. Working quickly he piled the body parts together. Adding wood and dribbling a trail of gasoline all around, Spike light a fag, drawing in the scent of sex, blood and tobacco. A sardonic smile crossed his features as he flicked the cigarette onto the pile, then turned his back.

There was a small crackling sound, then a whoosh followed by a loud whomp and then the night exploded into flame as he walked away.

So it wasn’t violence. ‘twas enough, it would serve.

He headed home to watch over his girls.