XVI

She was young again. Well, younger anyway.

~ ~ ~

So that's it, huh? I remember the drill. One slayer dies, the next one's called. I wonder who she is. Will you train her? Or will they send someone else?

Buffy, I-

Does it say how he's gonna kill me? Do you think it'll hurt? Were you even gonna tell me?

I was hoping I wouldn't have to, that there was some way around it. I-

Well you can find someone else to stop The Master from taking over.

I'm not sure that anyone else can. All the signs indicate-

The signs? Read me the signs! Tell me my fortune! You're so useful – sitting here with all of your books! You're really a lot of help!

I don't suppose I am.

*I know this is hard.*

What do you know about this? You're never gonna die!

Buffy, if the Master rises...

I don't care! Giles, I'm sixteen years old. I don't wanna die.

~ ~ ~

“She’s still unconscious.”

Buffy could hear her sister whispering as if she were standing right beside her, and yet she seemed so far away. A lifetime away.

~ ~ ~

I believe that's called growing up.

Then I'd like to stop, okay?

I know the feeling.

Does it ever get easy?

You mean life?

Yeah. Does it get easy?

What do you want me to say?

Lie to me.

Yes, it's terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true. The bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after.

~ ~ ~

“Liar.”

“She does, Xander. When she’s actually asleep. But she’s not sleeping, is she?”

“She looks like she’s sleeping. I mean, her eyes are doing that twitchy thing.”

“Well we know she dreams… wherever she goes.”

“But are those dreams? I thought it was more like a ‘Hey, Buff! This is Your Life!’ montage.

“You’re right. I guess they’re not really dreams.”

~ ~ ~

Open your eyes, Mom. What do you think has been going on for the past two years? The fights, the weird occurrences. How many times have you washed blood out of my clothing, and you still haven't figured it out?

Well, it stops now!

No, it doesn't stop! It never stops! Do you think I chose to be like this? Do you have any idea how lonely it is? How dangerous? I would love to be upstairs watching TV or gossiping about boys or – god – even studying! But I have to save the world. Again.

~ ~ ~

“No. He wanted to stay there a while. To check on ‘his girls’ as he called them.”

“I hadn’t realized he’d been back long enough to claim anyone as ‘his girl’.”

“Jealous?”

“Xander, don’t be stupid.”

“Do I have a choice in that? Dawn, you know that no one could replace you and Buff in his cold, dead heart.”

“Now who’s jealous?”

“Of the formerly evil undead? Not me. I’ve got one Summers woman as my wife and the mother of my offspring – two not-uncool and very well adjusted humans, I might add. And I’ve got the other as a sister. I’m like, head of the Summers clan. The patriarch! Anyway, my place is secure. His? Not so much. He’s been on the outside for the last forty years. Actually, I guess he’s always been on the outside.”

~ ~ ~

We're not good friends. Most of us never found the time to get to know you, but that doesn't mean we haven't noticed you. We don't talk about it much, but it's no secret that Sunnydale High isn't really like other high schools. A lot of weird stuff happens here. But whenever there was a problem or something creepy happened, you seemed to show up and stop it. Most of the people here have been saved by you, or helped by you at one time or another. We're proud to say that the Class of '99 has the lowest mortality rate of any graduating class in Sunnydale history. And we know at least part of that is because of you. So the senior class offers its thanks, and gives you this. It's from all of us, and it has written here, 'Buffy Summers, Class Protector.'

~ ~ ~

“She’ll be hungry. Did you get cheese?”

“Of course. Just call me the Cheese Man. Ooh! Maybe she’s dreaming about the Cheese Man.”

“Who?”

“Oh yeah. That was before your time. Or, uh… technically before it. I guess you were there. But I don’t remember us telling you about the dream.”

“Buffy has a lot of dreams.”

“No. This was a Scooby dream, after we defeated Adam. Only we each dreamed something different. Well, mostly. The First Slayer was hunting all of us in our dreams. And then there was this weird guy with cheese.”

~ ~ ~

I know you. You're the first Slayer.

This is a form. I am the guide.

I have a few questions, about being the Slayer. What about... love?

You think you're losing your ability to love.

I didn't say that.

You're afraid that being the Slayer means losing your humanity.

Does it?

You are full of love. You love with all of your soul. It's brighter than the fire. Blinding. That's why you pull away from it.

I'm full of love? I'm not losing it?

Only if you reject it. Love is pain, and the Slayer forges strength from pain. Love. Give. Forgive. Risk the pain. It is your nature. Love will bring you to your gift.

I'm sorry. I'm confused. I'm full of love and... love will lead me to my gift?

Yes.

I'm getting a gift? Or, do you mean that I have a gift to give to someone else?

Death is your gift.

Death...

Is your gift.

~ ~ ~

“She’ll want some sugary goodness, too, Xander.”

“We haven’t been away that long. We’ve still got some ice cream sandwiches in the freezer.”

“You know how hungry she gets after these… episodes.”

“You make them sound like nervous breakdowns.”

“Well, I don’t really know what to call them, other than scary.”

“They’re resurrections. Or, maybe reboots. You know, like BuffyBot.”

“Xander!”

“Ow!”

“We really don’t know what they are.”

~ ~ ~

There is so much I have to teach you. Your history, your power, what your body is capable of.


I don't need to know.

You long to. And you will have eternity to discover yourself. All those years fighting us –
your power so near to our own. And you've never once wanted to know what it is that we fight for? Never even a taste?


If I drink that…

You must be near death to become one of us. And that comes only when you plead for it.

I'm not hungry.

No. Your craving goes deeper than that. You think you know... what you are... what's to come. You haven't even begun.

~ ~ ~

“I’m surprised he’s stayed away this long, Xander. He wouldn’t leave her side before. And the sun will be up soon.”

“He’ll be back. If I’m sure of anything, I’m sure of that. Who knows why he stayed away as long as he did, all these years. Gotta say though, I didn’t think Spike had it in him, the self-control. Not where Buffy was concerned anyway. I mean, the guy didn’t even leave Sunnydale after we defeated Glory... after Buffy died.“

~ ~ ~

Death is your art. You make it with your hands, day after day. That final gasp. That look of peace. Part of you is desperate to know: ‘What's it like? Where does it lead you?’ And now you see, that's the secret. Not the punch you didn't throw, or the kicks you didn't land. Every Slayer... has a death wish. Even you. The only reason you've lasted as long as you have, is you've got ties to the world: your mum, your brat kid sister, the Scoobies. They all tie you here, but you're just putting off the inevitable. Sooner or later, you're gonna want it. And the second – the second that happens – you know I'll be there.

~ ~ ~

“So how many times is this now? I’ve lost count.”

“Xander, I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I just know it still shocks me, this process. Her life. What Willow has done. It’ll never end for her, will it?”

~ ~ ~

I know this hurts, bad. But 
Will, if you let loose with the
 magicks now, it will never end.

Promise?

You don't want that.

Why not?

Because you’ll lose everything. Your
 friends, your self. You let this
 control you and the world goes 
away. That's not... Willow, 
there's so much to-

Please! This is your pitch?
 You hate it here as much as I do. 
I'm just more honest about it.

That's not true.

You're trying to sell me on the 
world. The one where you lie to
 your friends when you're not
 trying to kill them, and you screw
 a vampire just to feel, and insane
 asylums are the comfy alternative. This world? Buffy, it's me. I
know you were happier in the 
ground, hanging with the worms.
The only time you were ever at
 peace in your whole life is when 
you were dead. Until I brought you back.... So here we are.

Are we really gonna do this?

Come on! This is a huge deal for
 me! Six years as a sideman, and
 now I get to be the Slayer.

A killer isn't a Slayer. Being a 
Slayer means something you can't
 conceive of.

Oh, Buffy. You really need to 
have every square inch of your ass 
kicked.

Then show me what you’ve got. And
 I'll show you what a Slayer is.

~ ~ ~

“Do you think he’s still in love with her?”

“Dawnie, he just took on an army of Dragvloks for her.”

“Yeah, but after staying away for forty years, doing god knows what…”

“You mean, who knows what.”

“He’s missed a lot of battles, Xander, and against even fiercer enemies than the Dragvloks. The Spike I knew would have been there for her. But then I guess I didn’t know him very well that last year in Sunnydale…. He obviously still cares about her though. Respects her. Wants her alive and healthy. But…”

~ ~ ~

You listen to me. I've been alive a bit longer than you, and dead a lot longer than that. I've seen things you couldn't imagine. And done things I prefer you didn't. Don't exactly have a reputation for being a thinker. I follow my blood, which doesn't exactly rush in the direction of my brain. So I make a lot of mistakes, a lot of wrong bloody calls. A hundred-plus years, and there's only one thing I've ever been sure of: You. Look at me. I'm not asking you for anything. When I say I love you, it's not because I want you, or because I can't have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are. What you do. How you try. I've seen your kindness, and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You're a hell of a woman. You're the One, Buffy.

~ ~ ~

“Dawn, if not Buffy, then who? Drusilla?”

“I don’t know. There are other Slayers now. And you know he’s always had a thing for Slayers. A couple of them have even looked like her over the years. She’s not the only cute girl with super powers anymore.”

~ ~ ~

So here's the part where you make a choice. What if you could have that power now? In every generation, one Slayer is born, because a bunch of men who died thousands of years ago made up that rule. So I say we change the rule. I say my power, should be our power. From now on, every girl in the world who might be a Slayer, will be a Slayer. Every girl who could have the power, will have the power – can stand up, will stand up. Slayers. Every one of us. Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?

~ ~ ~

“Buffy?”

“Is she waking up?”

“Xander, her face was moving.”

“Buffy!”

“Don’t shout at her! You’ll startle her.”

“Look! Did you see that? Her hand twitched. She is waking up. I love this part.”

~ ~ ~

I love you.

~ ~ ~

“There!”

~ ~ ~

No you don’t.

~ ~ ~

“See? She grimaced, Dawnie.”

“I saw it.”

“She looks constipated.”

“Xander…”

“Buff-“

“Shh!”

“What?”

“Just let her come back peacefully, Xander. Gosh, you’re so impatient.”

“But it’s so exciting. I mean, come on. There’s something cool in the creepiness of it all.”

“Too bad Spike isn’t here.”

“Uhn…” A groggy moan escaped her dry and bloodied lips.

“B-“

“Zip it, Xander.”

“Uhn…”

Buffy felt like she was neck deep in mud – her limbs too sluggish to lift against the weight of her blankets.

“What….”

“Shh. It’s alright, Buffy. You’re alright. Just let yourself wake up slowly.”

“Mom?”

She could hear her mother sighing. Why was she sighing?

“No, Buffy. Mom’s not here. It’s just me, Dawn. Well, Xander and me. Let yourself wake up, Buffy. And then I’ll tell you everything.”

Her eyelids felt like they were weighted down, as she struggled for several moments to open her eyes.

“Hey there, Buff.”

Buffy blinked several times, slowly and deliberately, as if to wake up the muscles of her eyelids. She saw Xander, aged and distinguished, a black patch over one eye. Blinking again as if to register him, she shifted her eyes towards her sister, looking uncannily like Aunt Arlene.

“Where-?”

“You’re at my house in L.A., Buffy,” Dawn answered gently. “It’s 2043.”

Buffy furrowed her brow.

“The Dragvloks attacked Slayer Central yesterday. You were hurt. Xander and I brought you home.”

She blinked once. Then her eyes widened in alarm.

“Spike!” she whispered urgently.

Dawn shifted nervous-looking eyes to Xander. “Uh, he’s gone-“

Buffy shot up in bed – wincing from the pain.

“Buffy, stop! It’s alright!” Dawn pressed a palm to Buffy’s chest to push her down. “You need to take it-“

Buffy started dragging her legs over the edge of bed.

“Buffy, please! I only meant he’s not here right now! He’ll be back!”

Buffy stopped.

Dawn let out a sigh. “He was here, Buffy. For hours. Watching over you. Xander drove him back to Slayer Central to get your car, and to check on the others.”

“Also, he refused to wear my clothes – which, frankly, I didn’t mind. So he was gonna go home and wash up – which, honestly, he really needed to do. Oh, and uh… welcome back, Buff,” he finished with a goofy smile.

“The others,” she croaked weakly, still sitting up in bed. The pain had eased, and she was already feeling stronger.

“Yeah,” Dawn replied quietly as she lowered her eyes.

Buffy swallowed the fear that began to crawl up her throat. “How many?” she asked tentatively.

Dawn exhaled softly. “Twelve.”

“We lost eight Slayers?!”

Dawn’s face sank deeper into a frown. “No, Buffy. Twelve died. Only eight survived.”

Buffy felt her stomach turn, and was suddenly more exhausted than she’d felt after the battle. Looking sideways, at nothing in particular, she let her head fall back onto her pillow.

“I’m sorry, Buffy.” She could hear the sadness in her sister’s voice. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“Who survived?” she asked flatly.

She heard Dawn sigh again. “Uh…Sonny, Gina, Rachel…Tori, Stevie-“

Buffy turned to her sister with alarm. “Pipa?”

“Yeah, Buffy. Pipa survived, too,” Dawn reassured her. “But she’s injured. Mel survived as well. And… Sally.”

Buffy felt her chest constrict. “But not Carla.” It wasn’t a question.

“No. And not Maria.”

Buffy shut her eyes.

“Hungry?”

That jarred her eyes back open.

“Sorry, Buff,” Xander added sheepishly. “That needed a segue.”

Buffy just stared at him.

“Uh, I bought some stuff – knowing how hungry you get after…” Xander swallowed. “Hey, gotta love the twenty-four hour Wal-Mart. In the final apocalypse, it’ll be the only thing left standing,” he joked half-heartedly.

“Xander, why don’t you go make something,” Dawn pressed lightly. “Pancakes or something. We’ll have a sunrise breakfast when Spike gets back. Then we can all crash and sleep the morning away.”

“Just call me Aunt Jemima,” he quipped, getting blank faces in response.

“Or not… Yeah. Um… I’ll uh… go make pancakes,” he finished under his breath, stumbling slightly on his way out the door.

The sisters indulged in a moment of silence, before Dawn settled herself into bed – Buffy mustering the strength to make space for Dawn beside her. They lay quietly on their backs for some time – hands clasped over their stomachs, eyes blinking absently.

* * * *

It was strange to be standing at his front door again. He’d only been gone one night, and yet it felt like a lifetime ago.

Spike leaned his forehead against the door. “Open up, Kit.”

“Have you lost your key, sir?”

“Yeah. So open up.”

“Your password, please, sir.”

Spike sighed. Every inch of him was exhausted. “1-6-3-0.”

“Welcome home, sir.” And with a click, the door unlocked and swung open.

As desperate as he was to rest, Spike mustered the energy to do otherwise. He needed a shower as much as he needed some blood, but food had to come first, or he’d never make it back to her. Kicking the door shut behind him, he walked straight to the kitchen and grabbed four bags of blood from the fridge. He poured two bags into a pot to heat up and drank the other two cold – just to take the edge off the pain of his wounds, and the fatigue in his limbs. It tasted foul, of course, and he couldn’t help but think back to yesterday’s breakfast at Buffy’s. That would go down in history as one of his best from a bag. Had that really been less than twenty-four hours ago? Had she only been back in his life for two days?

The only thing more shocking than that fact, was how much texture she seemed to have brought to his unlife already. Everything seemed more… real.

Once the blood had warmed and thinned, Spike poured it into a mug and downed it in gulps. He stood at the stove until he’d emptied the pot of every bone-mending drop. With an unexpected burp, he threw the pot into the sink, and hurried to his bedroom for a fresh set of clothes.

A knock on the door stopped him mid-step.

“Spike!”

Bloody hell.

“You have a visitor, sir.”

“I’m dead, Kit, not deaf.”

“His temperature is seventy degrees Fahrenheit, sir. That is the equivalent of twenty-one degrees Celsius. Snap shot materializing on screen.”

Spike rolled his eyes in annoyance. He didn’t need to see the wanker’s face on the Comptel screen.

“Let him in, Kit. This won’t take long.”

As the door swung open, Angel walked in like the head of some funereal march.

“Peaches,” he greeted him dully, his face unmoving.

“Willy,” Angel replied in kind.

Spike refused to flinch at the insult. “Make it quick, Angel, cause I haven’t got much time.”

“You’re going back to her,” he accused.

Spike’s jaw tensed unconsciously. “She has a name, you tosser. A face too. And wouldn’t you know… after forty years, not one wrinkle. Funny that.”

“You never asked, Spike.”

Spike chuckled bitterly. “Yeah, cause that’s the kind of thing one would ask, isn’t it?”

Angel stepped forward confidently, until he was inches away from Spike’s face. “You could have found out yourself. It’s not like I’ve been hiding her.”

“No. You just hid the truth, you son of a bitch,” he spat, enjoying the sight of his spittle hitting its mark.

“Like you hid the truth from her? Hypocrite.”

Spike blinked. He didn’t have a comeback to that.

“You know, staying away from her was the only selfless thing you’ve ever done, William. She was happy.”

“What, with you?!” Arrogant prick. “And how long did that last exactly?”

Angel’s face turned stony. “We took a break.”

Spike laughed out loud. “A break?!”

It was Angel’s turn to blink. “She needs to find herself, Spike.”

Spike’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “What?”

“She’s immortal now, you idiot. But still human. There’s no one like her.”

“Your point?”

“She needs to come to terms with that. Figure out who she is.”

Spike shook his head in amazement. “So what? You think she needs to do that alone?”

“I think she needs space, Spike,” he gritted out.

Spike considered his grandsire carefully. “I see. So that’s what happened then? You gave her some space?”

Angel didn’t respond.

“You know, the Buffy I knew always knew who she was. She may not have liked herself at times – hell, I didn’t even like her at times – but she knew herself. She had her periods of self-doubt, sure – usually when things hit rock bottom. But she wasn’t some lost and aimless schoolgirl without a clue, mate. She always had a core of steel. An unshakeable self-reliance. If the Slayer could count on anyone, it was herself. And she knew that.”

“Maybe,” Angel acknowledged begrudgingly. “But the Buffy you knew wasn’t immortal, Spike. Or she hadn’t realized it yet. She didn’t have to face the prospect of watching her loved ones grow old and die.”

“She lost Joyce, you ninny.” Thoughtless wanker.

That made Angel pause, but only briefly. “The point is, she doesn’t need you drooling down her neck right now.”

He could see Angel was getting agitated, so he kept a calm facade.

“Uh huh. So uh… when exactly did you and the Slayer take this break?”

He didn’t answer.

Spike put a hand to his ear. “When was that?”

Angel narrowed his eyes. “A few years ago.”

“Yeah? How many is a few?” Spike asked casually.

Angel flinched slightly. “Almost five.”

Spike laughed out loud again. “And you think, what? That she needs another five years to sort herself out?”

“She needs as much time as she needs, Spike. You can’t rush these things.”

Spike nodded in mock understanding. “I see. Then why exactly did I get an invite to stay at her place, mate?”

That hit Angel like a Troll hammer, and Spike wished he could relive the moment again, every day. But Angel recovered quickly. “She’s lonely, Spike,” he replied nonchalantly. “Obviously.”

“Lonely.”

“Yeah.… You’re a distraction.”

“A distraction,” he echoed.

“A reminder… of who she was, back in Sunnydale. When she was young. And mortal.”

Spike wasn’t impressed.

But Angel pressed on. “You remind her of who she was, Spike. I remind her of what she is now, and of the future that lies ahead of her. Don’t you see? I’ll be in that future, when all the rest have gone. She can’t handle that right now.”

Spike couldn’t believe his ears. The git was delusional. “You’re the one losing his grip, mate.”

“Spike, you need to-“

“Sod off, Peaches,” he said tiredly. “I gave you enough time. I need a shower.” Spike turned his back to his grandsire and headed back towards his bedroom.

“Spike, the last thing Buffy needs right now, is to wake up to you dragging her back into the past, complicating things.”

Spike stopped and stalked back to Angel, hands on his hips. “You know what? I must have killed a dozen Dragvloks tonight, mate. A dozen. More than you bagged I’m sure. We lost a lot of girls tonight, yeah. But I’m pretty sure I made things a hell of lot simpler killing off half of the fucking enemy!”

Angel just shook his head in disgust.

Spike exhaled dramatically. “Look, I may not be what Buffy needs in a man. But I have my uses. I can be there for her, without shagging her.”

Spike tilted his head to the side as he reconsidered his grandsire. “See… that’s the difference between you and me, isn’t it? You left her once, because you couldn’t stand by her if you couldn’t stick it to her. It was always about what you wanted, Angelus, not what she needed.”

Angel was fuming now.

“So she’s immortal now. Forced to live forever on this sodden rock of misery and pain. And yeah, she’s gonna see Death take her kid sis, the Scoobies, and every Slayerette she brought forth. And one day, she really will be all alone – one girl in all the fuckin’ world.”

Spike swallowed his own sadness at the thought.

“Except she won’t. Because for as long as she needs a hand, or a shoulder, or a pair of fangs to do damage, I’ll be there. So I suggest you start dealing with that fact now, mate.”

“Spike-“

“Now get the fuck out of my house before I sick Kit on you,” he snarled.

Angel scanned the room warily, as if looking for this unknown threat. Flashing Spike one last look of displeasure, Angel turned on his heel to storm away. He flung the door open roughly, but stopped before stepping out.

“She doesn’t love you, Spike.”

Spike lowered his head and closed his eyes to the truth. “Tell me something I don’t know.”


* * * *

“So spill,” Buffy blurted unexpectedly.

“Huh?”

“How is it that you’re here, and not in London?”

“Oh. You didn’t answer your phone.”

“Huh?”

“Willow called me. After she hung up with you the other night. She told me about Spike, that he was back. Or, back in our lives at least. She said you’d run into him by accident in Santa Lucia and that you were furious.”

“I wasn’t furious,” she countered angrily.

“Uh huh. Anyway, I called you right away, of course. And you didn’t answer. So I took the red-eye back, and my amazingly devoted husband got up out of bed, got packed, and came with.”

“I don’t get it. What was the hurry?”

“Well I wanted to see Spike, before he ran away again. Or, before you chased him away.”

“Dawn!” Buffy turned to her sister, affronted.

But Dawn didn’t seem chastened. “And I wanted to see you. To make sure you were okay… Are you? Okay?”

Buffy looked back at the ceiling. “Well I was, before the Dragvloks came to L.A., and before my house burnt down.”

“Buffy, that’s not what I meant. And anyway, your house didn’t burn down.”

Buffy turned hopeful eyes toward her sister. “What?”

“I called you a second time from the airport, and again when we landed. You never answered. So when we got back to town, we drove straight to Santa Lucia to check up on you. The house was trashed and burnt out, sure, but most of it was still standing. Your neighbor said that the fire trucks had come and gone.”

“Mrs. Partridge?”

“Yeah.”

“Busy body,” Buffy grumbled.

“The police were still there though – you know, dusting things with tiny brushes and putting stuff into little plastic baggies.”

“What about the corpses?”

“Gone. I only knew they’d been there because there was a Dragvlok hand sticking out from under the refrigerator. The police hadn’t noticed it yet, so I sort of kicked it further back.” Dawn screwed up her face in disgust. “That’s gonna rot. Sorry.”

“Meh. It’ll blend in with the rotting food and blood in the fridge. So then you came back here?”

“Not to the house, no. We figured if the Dragvloks had come for you, then they’d come for the L.A. Slayers, too. So we drove straight to Slayer Central from there. But not before I convinced the cops to let me grab a few things from the house.”

“Like what?”

“Pictures mainly. The ones of you and the kids on your dresser. The one from my wedding. I snuck your Bowie knife out, too. Oh, and Spike’s duster.”

Buffy gasped. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“I think you’ve officially made his day.”

“You always were an idiot, Buffy,” Dawn deadpanned.

“Hey!”

Dawn smirked. “I think you’ll have officially made his day, Buffy – resurrecting and all.”

“Hmm. Maybe.”

“So how was it this time?”

“Death?”

“Let’s call it rebooting.”

“I don’t know.”

“Did I have a cameo?”

“Huh?”

“In your montage. When your life flashed before your eyes. Which parts did you see this time?”

Buffy lay quietly for a moment, reflecting back.

“You now how it is. I don’t remember the details, really. Just fleeting images and feelings. I was young though. We were in Sunnydale this time. Just Sunnydale, actually.”

“That makes sense.”

“Why?”

“Because of Spike. You only knew him there, and suddenly he’s back. His reappearance was bound to take you back to that time.”

“I guess.”

“And now we’ve come full circle back to the matter at hand.”

Buffy took a deep, settling breath. “Spike,” she said softly.

“Uh huh. So?”

“So what? You spoke to Willow. He’s been around this whole time. Somewhere. Everywhere. Anywhere but here. Doing his thing. Fighting evil. Saving Slayers, apparently. Being a hero.”

“That’s amazing though, no? He’s been devoting his existence to serving others, and without the benefit of getting credit from you. That’s a pretty remarkable transformation, if you ask me.”

Buffy stayed silent.

“Buffy?”

“Yeah. It is. He’s a hero, like I said.”

“So are you gonna tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

“How you feel?”

Buffy frowned at her sister, before returning her gaze to the ceiling. “What do I feel? How do you know if I don’t?” Buffy exhaled noisily. “I don’t live my life that way anymore, Dawn. I don’t waste time reflecting on feelings. It doesn’t matter what anybody feels. What matters is what they do. Words are meaningless.”

“No they’re not.”

“Dawn, when was the last time you doubted my love for you?”

“Buffy, I haven’t doubted your love for ages. Since I was teenager.”

“Exactly. You know why?”

“You’re gonna tell me anyway.”

“Because when you were a teenager, I would insist to you and to myself, that you were the most important person in my life. But I didn’t treat you that way.”

Dawn stayed quiet.

“We never really got along until I stopped claiming that I loved you, and started showing you that I did. Words are useless, Dawn. No one believes them. And you know what? They shouldn’t. You have to look at what people do.”

“Sure, but-“

“So let’s look at what Spike did. He burned in the Hellmouth, but came back. And instead of finding us, he moved on with his life.”

“Buffy-“

“He was never going to see me again, you know. It was a freak accident our running into each other.”

“Or fate.”

“Please. There’s no fate, Dawn. I was fated to be killed by the Master.”

“You were.”

“Only kinda. Point is, there’s no fate. You can always get around these things. Even death and taxes. I got around both.”

The two lay silent again for several moments.

Dawn broke the silence. “So what now?”

“Well… he was only in Santa Lucia to kill the Penis Lady, and he was only in L.A. to hunt the Dragvloks. So… I don’t know.”

“Do you want him to stay?”

“What does it matter what I want? Everything just gets stripped away.”

“Buffy-“

“I could use those pancakes now, I think.”

Dawn sighed.

The sudden screech of tires outside startled both women out of solemnity. Turning their heads towards the window, they noticed dawn about to break through the black of the sky.

A knock on the door turned their eyes away, and Xander poked his head past the door.

“Uncle Rory’s back.”

“Your Uncle Rory is dead, Xander.”

“I meant Blondie, hon.”

“Oh. He doesn’t look remotely like your Uncle Rory.”

“Uh no… but… you know. He’s like that old relative that you haven’t seen for ages. And you know what? You were pretty okay with that. But then, it’s kinda neat seeing him again, cause it brings back old times – not necessarily pleasant times, mind you. But he does remind you of when you were young.” Xander finished with a shrug. “Anyway, your Mini looks like it’s seen better days, Buff.”

“I need a shower.” Buffy sat up abruptly and started peeling off her blood-caked clothes.

“Whoa.” Xander turned his eyes away quickly. “I, uh… I’ll just make sure Uncle Rory doesn’t catch fire on his way in.” Xander sniffed the air. “Darn! I think my pancakes are burning.” Xander slammed the door closed as he fled.

Still weak and aching, Buffy struggled to get out of her pants. “I must look like Carrie at the prom right now. I don’t suppose you brought any of my clothes from the house?”

“No, but Joycie still has stuff in the closet that you can use. You’re both short.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes at her sister. “We’re the normal ones, Dawn. You’re the giant.”

“Funny. You should do stand up.”

“Look, can you just keep him busy while I clean up?” she asked breathlessly.

“Buffy, it’s not like there’s a risk he’ll get impatient and leave.”

“Just go play nice!”

“When am I not nice?”

“Uh, you weren’t exactly nice to him that last year in Sunnydale.”

Dawn crossed her arms and scowled. “Buffy, that isn’t fair.”

Naked and dirty, Buffy let her arms drop to her sides with an exaggerated sigh. “I know you were trying to do right by me then. So do right by me now, too, and go play nice.”

Dawn turned away in a sulk and muttered grumpily under her breath. “I don’t have to play at it, Buffy. I’m actually happy to see him.”

And with that, Buffy finally acknowledged to herself, that so was she.