Author’s Note: I’ve heard from a couple of people who think I treat Xander unfairly. I like Xander. I think he’s a tough, funny, great character who happens to have a few massive flaws. I don’t always approve of his choices, and I think he’s often reactionary at the worst possible time, but I think he genuinely loves his friends and would do anything to make sure that they don’t get hurt. In an earlier chapter, when his leg was broken, he was fairly convinced that Spike was working against them and brutally honest about why he distrusts vampires. If he seemed unduly antagonistic, consider that he was a little drunk and a lot in pain. He doesn’t always hate Spike, and I think the two of them could be friends, under the right circumstances… but if there’s any likelihood of Buffy getting hurt by being close to Spike, Xander is going to be the first one to speak up.

Honestly, I think I write him pretty tame, compared to some other authors out there.

Anyway, that’s just my interpretation. Feel free to disagree.

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all recognizable characters, locations, and dialogue belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the various writers. Show writers and any other quoted authors have been credited in individual chapters. I'm making no money from this—it is purely in the name of fun.

Betaed by Phuriedae and Science

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Chapter 67
Homecoming


I'm not sure what I expected.

Maybe a long black tunnel, or another magical mystery tour of some kind.

Instead, it's like stepping through a gauzy curtain. When we put our feet down, we're standing in the middle of the Magic Box, in the center of a chalked circle surrounded by candles and my friends are all sitting around, arguing.

"...I don't accept that! You're saying that Buffy is destined to be stuck with the Bleached Wonder forever? He's it? The one? But… That's... Holy SCHNIKIES!"

Xander stops mid-rant to stare wide-eyed at us as we stumble to a stop. Oh, god, it's so warm. After all that time there I feel like I've stepped into a sauna. The heat is wonderful, and for a second we just stand there, basking in it.

"We're back," I manage.

"Love you, too, Harris," Spike says wearily, blowing Xander a mocking kiss. Xander screams and stumbles over to the wall, grabbing the first weapon to come to hand. Which happens to be Oofdar, goddess of childbirth.

"Buffy!" Willow says, springing up. She doesn't come closer, though. "Buffy?"

I pull my wool hat off and yank on the scarf that's muffling my face. "That bad, huh?" I say.

"Gotta close the door, Slayer," Spike rasps, glancing behind us. His eyes widen and he stumbles forward, pulling me with him just as something plows through the portal behind us, knocking us both to the ground. My hand shoots out to break our fall, and we roll, knocking over a candle and some of the herbs burning in a bowl.

And suddenly there's silence.

I hadn't even realized that there was wind and magic whipping around in the circle with us, still. Not until it's gone, the spell broken.

Then there's yelling and people diving for weapons, and Spike and I are rolling painfully to our feet to see what came through after us. Only it pounces again, knocking Spike back to the ground and...

...starts licking his face, fangs, ridges and all.

"A wolf!" someone yells.

"Not a wolf!" Anya says. "Oh my god, where did you find one?"

"Huh?" I say stupidly.

"Get it off me!" Spike yells, flailing, and the whatever-it-is steps back and sits, wagging its tail madly. I help Spike sit up and we both turn to stare at our attacker.

It's a dog—a very big, very white dog, with black eyes and a black nose and a long fluffy tail that curls a little at the end. And there's something oddly familiar about it, though Spike gets it faster than me.

"It's the sodding bear," he says, blinking at it in confusion.

"Pooh bear?" I ask. Now that he mentions it, there's something about the way it tilts it's head. The dog whuffs, and then I know for sure. I'm not sure why my polar bear is now a dog, but I can't help the grin that splits my wind-chapped face. The dog comes over and leans against my leg, his head nearly level with my stomach, he's so tall. If he stood on his hind legs he would be taller than me. He kind of looks like a German Shepherd, I think.

"Jaws," Spike says, reaching out a hand to scratch the dog behind his ears. Pooh closes his eyes in bliss and licks at Spike's arm.

"Goddess," Tara says, "your neck." She's staring at Spike, her eyes huge. "Sp-Spike? That is y-you?"

He looks up at her. "Hello, Glinda," he says softly. She sobs suddenly, clapping her hands over her mouth. Spike looks pretty bad, especially under the bright lights in the Magic Box. His skin is paper white and translucent, showing a roadmap of blue veins under the surface. His neck looks awful, exposed above the collar of his coat, and what I can see of his chest under the duster is sunken and hollow, bones protruding through the skin. Even though his injuries aren't as bad, he looks even deader than he did when I found him.

I can see why Xander screamed. I guess the vamp face really doesn't help.

"You're all fangy," I tell him, helping him to stand up.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Hungry. Lots of people. Hard to..."

"Oh, dear lord," Giles says. "Xander, run down to... oh, I forgot, you've a broken leg. Put down the statue and sit before you injure yourself further. Uh... Willow? We need blood—as much as you can buy. Tara, bandages, perhaps?"

Then people are moving and we're being scooped up and helped toward chairs. Spike's hand clutches mine tightly, shaking, and when his eyes meet mine I can see the demon in them, straining for control. Then something in him relaxes a little, though he doesn't let go of my hand. Someone takes my backpack off of me and pushes a chair under me. I sink into it, beside Spike, and then Pooh is curling up by our feet.

"How long?" I manage to ask Giles. "How long was I gone?"

He glances up at the clock, then back at me. "Only a couple of hours or so. We didn't expect you... so soon. I'm afraid you caught us by surprise. But..." his eyes take in Spike's condition, then go over me. "How long was it, where you were?"

I remember asking Spike, only a few days ago, almost the same question. "Longer," I say tiredly, echoing his words. "That's going to be a problem. She's got plenty of time there to prepare, and she'll be here sooner than we think. We've got to..."

"But you got Spike away," Tara says, kneeling beside me. "I th-thought..."

"I don't know," I tell her. "I don't know if it'll be enough to hold her off forever."

"You've bought us some time," Whistler says, reminding me he's still here. I'd nearly forgotten. "A couple of days, at least, I think."

"How do you know?" I ask, frowning.

He taps his head. "Telegram from upstairs," he says. "Without her pet vamp, she's going to have to find another power source. That locks her into our time frame."

Tension I didn't know I was holding is suddenly gone. Well, not gone, but not as heavy. I sag a little with relief. Then Willow is rushing into the shop, a big paper bag clutched in her arms.

"I ran," she says, panting. "It's still warm. I-I asked if they’d warm it..." She sets it down on the table and reaches in to pull out a styrofoam container with a lid. Spike's head tracks the movement like a cat watching a bird. I’m not sure he even realizes that he’s licking his fangs.

"Does anyone else suddenly have the urge to get a crossbow and a stake?" Xander says.

"Uh, Wills?" I ask. "Let me do that." She frowns but hands it over, pulling the lid off for me. Spike reaches for the container, but his hand is shaking so bad...

"Give us some room, guys," I say. I know Spike won't attack them, but I also know that he's really hungry and at the end of his willpower, and looking weak in front of a roomful of humans is going to really piss him off later. I let him take it, then try to help steady the container a little so he doesn't slosh it over the brim.He leans his whole body forward, draining the cup slowly and greedily. I can hear him swallow; watch his throat muscles work to take it in.

"Okay, new definition of gross," Xander says. "Could someone patch that hole in his throat, please? I really don't need to see that."

Sort of with him on that. Getting the cutaway view of how the vampire digestive system works? Ew.

As he drinks I can almost see his veins filling with the borrowed blood, and some starts to leak at the edges of the wounds. Tara hands me a towel, and I press it against his neck to stop any new bleeding. He blinks at me, but doesn't stop drinking until the container is empty. A new, full one is passed over and he immediately starts on it.

"Fascinating," Giles says, studying Spike as he drinks. Spike just growls at him softly, his eyes tracking all the people around him. He’s swallowing more slowly now. Some of the thinness is disappearing from his face, and the hollows under his eyes. His skin isn't quite as corpsey, either. By the third container the trembles have stopped, and he's let go of my hand, holding the towel against his neck on his own. When he finishes it, he takes the fourth container, but doesn't immediately start to drink. Instead he just closes his eyes and tilts his head back, then lets the demon fade.

"Better?" I ask.

"Gettin' there," he says, then sits up a little straighter, eyeing the people in the room warily. "Someone want to fetch that pizza over here?" he asks. "Can smell it."

"I didn't think you needed human food?" Lydia says, heading for the box on the counter.

"Not for me," he says. "Her. Which of you wankers let her wander off into a hell dimension with nothing more than some energy bars? I've a good mind to eat the lot of you."

Giles, Willow and Tara manage to look ashamed. Anya just smiles, her eyes still fixed on Pooh. Xander snorts. "Like to see you try, Chips Ahoy. Besides, it's not like the Buffster gave us time to go grocery shopping. No, it was all 'We have to save Spike.' Gratitude wouldn't hurt, you know."

"'Preciate the help," Spike says, looking around at all the others. Then he flashes a quick smirk at Xander. "’Specially the loan of the sleeping bag."

"Spike," I warn him. Xander looks confused. "It... Sorry, it got kinda destroyed," I lie. "I'll buy you a new one."

"Oh," Xander says. "No big, Buff."

Lydia hands me a paper towel with a slice of pizza on it. The smell hits my defrosting nose at about the same time and my stomach lurches forward like a new-risen vampire at the scent of fresh blood. Oh. God. Food. The first bite floods my mouth with saliva, and then before I know it the slice is gone and I'm blinking at the paper towel in confusion. A new slice magically appears, and I finish it almost as quickly, then look up to see the room staring at me in shocked fascination.

Suddenly I know exactly how Spike feels when we watch him eat.

I'm still hungry, but I leave the third slice on the table, picking it into smaller bites so I don't look like such a pig.

"Better?" Tara asks.

"Getting there," I say, sharing a smile with Spike.

Giles polishes his glasses. "Obviously your quest was successful," he says. "Could you fill us in on what exactly happened?"

I sigh. "Any chance the debrief can wait until after I get home and shower and change at least? The last week has been—"

"Week?" Willow says. She glances up at the clock.

"Yeah, week, maybe more. Really hard to tell time there. I've got the jet lag from hell. Literally," I say.

"Of course," Giles says. "I can give you a ride home right now, if you like. We can finish things up there?"

"Yeah," I say, tired. I'd really like to shower and then crawl into bed for the next month, but I realize we don't have time for that. "Can we stop off at Spike's crypt and pick some things up for him first?"

"Your house? You're taking him home?" Xander asks.

I just blink at him for a moment, confused. "Yes," I say, finally. "Where else would I take him?"

Spike makes a sound, a soft little noise that no one is close enough to hear but me. I glance over at him and in his eyes I see something spark and shine, something that was missing before. Slowly, as if trying it on for size, a smile stretches across his face. I feel my own echo it.

He really is sort of dumb, my vampire—I've been trying to tell him for days, in as many ways as I know how, but it's only now sinking in? Oh well, I love him anyway.

And now he's finally starting to believe me.

***

I help Spike crawl into the back seat of Giles' penismobile, then I slide in beside him. Pooh Bear ignores Giles' cry of surprise and jumps into the passenger seat, sitting there for all the world like the most well-trained giant dog you've ever seen.

"Why did you feel the need to bring a dog back with you?" Giles grumbles, sliding into the drivers seat.

"It's not really a dog," I tell him.

"Well, it's drooling on my window like one," he says, eyeing Pooh warily.

"I'll explain later," I say, snuggling against Spike's arm. He wraps it around me, pulling me against his side. A month ago I would have been wigged by how well I fit there. Heck, three days ago, Sunnydale time, I would have, too.

I feel like I've aged a century or so since then.

I doze, waking up fully again only when Giles pulls up in front of Restfield's gates. "Wait here," I tell Spike. "I'll pick up your stuff for you. Anything in particular you want?"

He watches me, and I wonder how I managed to miss seeing the love in his eyes for so long. It's right there at the surface. "Smokes," he says after a moment.

I roll my eyes and climb out of the car. If the weather was bad when I left for Hell... it's not gotten better. But it hasn't gotten worse, either. There's still storm clouds building overhead, stacking up like skyscrapers, and the wind is still sharper than a knife. Compared to Louhi's hell, though... it could be Tahiti. I'm a little surprised when I hear a car door slam, and then Giles comes puffing up behind me through the snow.

"Buffy," he says, then seems to get stuck. He clearly wants to polish his glasses, but he's got his hands stuffed deep in his pockets.

"Weird to think I was only here this morning," I say, since I'm not sure what he wants. "It feels like a month ago. Look, my footprints are still here."

"It—it was a week there, you said?"

I sigh. "Honestly, I don't know," I tell him. "Time was pretty wonky. And trying to get there... It might have been a day or a hundred years. I don't know. Whistler was right. It wasn't easy."

He doesn't seem to know what to say to that. "You've lost weight," he says, eventually.

"Diet from hell," I tell him, pushing open the door to Spike's crypt. Inside everything is just the way I left, it, though the torch has burnt out, finally. Giles doesn't say anything, just follows me down the ladder.

"I'd no idea he had a lower level," he says, peering around Spike's bedroom with interest. "It's not a mansion, of course, but it's... surprisingly civilized."

I guess it is, though I hadn't ever really thought about it that way. I know him well enough now to see how this place appeals to both sides of him. The demon loves the whole crypt cliche, but William needs the romance of a real bedroom.

Giles wanders over to the table pushed up against the wall in the corner and starts going through the books stacked there. I find a black duffel bag in a corner beside Spike's trunk and start stuffing clothes into it. "Buffy," Giles says, as I debate over which of Spike's button downs to bring. "I realize that it was necessary to—to retrieve Spike in order to prevent Louhi from using him to power her return, and I appreciate that what you must have gone through in order to do so was... difficult. However, we need to consider that, in all probability, Spike is still tied to Louhi. She may yet attempt to use him."

The blue one, the red one and the black one that I liked at Christmas, I decide. "So we'll find a way to prevent it," I tell him. "Willow and Tara can do a spell. Or maybe Whistler has an idea."

Giles mutters something under his breath, but I don't really catch it, just something about Whistler and the word "pillock". Deciding that hurrying so I can get back to the car is more important than trying to speed Giles along the info highway I go to the shower niche and start scooping Spike's bath stuff into the bag, too.

"I'm not saying we should make a hasty decision, of course," Giles says, finally. "However, Buffy, we may need to—to consider more...uh, more permanent alternatives, if Spike is still bound to Louhi. We cannot risk her continuing to use him. She's already more powerful than I'm sure we can deal with."

That gets my attention. I look up.

"Oh, my god," I say, frowning. "You think we should dust Spike."

"No!" Giles says. Then frowns. "Well... if it's necessary."

"It's not going to be necessary," I tell him. " I cannot believe that I went to hell and back to rescue him, and the minute I get him home you think we should stake him. Are you insane?"

"Buffy, you do remember that we're talking about Spike, don't you? He's an unreliable ally at best, and a soulless, bloodthirsty killer the rest of the time. The only reason I've not asked you to slay him thus far is because I understand your reluctance to kill something that cannot fight back. However that may not be a luxury we can afford any longer. I know that this last year you've... well, you've inadvertently grown close to him and...and you went through a great deal in order to find him. However, you don't seem to understand—"

"Oh, I understand," I tell him, getting angry now. "I understand way more than you think. That whole thing about me being tested before I'd be allowed to get to Spike? It was all about the understanding. There's nobody on earth who gets exactly what Spike is more than I do. Not even him. And I did not go through all of that to get him back only for you to stake him. Spike is on our side, Giles. He's one of us. And he's not going anywhere."

"Buffy," Giles says, putting on his Watcher face; the one that really pisses me off. "If the choice comes down to Spike or the world—"

"It won't," I tell him. "Hello, prophecy. Kinda big on the whole Spike's-destined-to-help-me-save-the-world thing. Again. And, hey, since when do you ignore prophecies?"

"When those prophecies are suggesting you bind yourself to a vampire!" Giles says, the vein in his head throbbing.

"Do what?" I say, confused.

He sighs. "Nevermind. It... We can discuss it later, when all involved are present."

"Well, if it's important enough for you to want to tell me privately that I ought to stake Spike, then I think I deserve to hear the reason for it," I say, still pissed.

Giles just blinks at me, then gets to polishing his glasses. "The prophecy, it mentions a-a ritual. Before, when we thought it was referring to an artifact, we assumed it was in order to activate the artifact's power. After we... well, once it was clear that the prophecy was referring to Spike, we did some further research. There is a... a very rare ritual that can be done. Once it's completed it will break any remaining hold Louhi may still have over Spike, and prevent her from establishing a new one."

A ritual. A ritual he doesn't want me to do.

"What kind of ritual?" I ask.

"A, er... enjoining ritual. It would... well, it is designed to allow two beings to share strengths, much like we did when you faced Adam. It's generally only possible between... vampires or demons. Though the prophecy would seem to suggest that it is possible for it to work between a Slayer and a vampire," Giles says.

"And you're not reaching for the stinky herbs because...?" I ask.

Giles sighs and leans back against Spike's desk. "Because... I fear the cost is too high," he says.

“Would the First Slayer show up and try to kill us in our sleep again?”

“No,” Giles says. “I-I don’t believe so. It doesn’t involve invoking the spirit of the First Slayer at all. As far as we can tell, it’s more... personal, using your individual spirits and traits.”

A little shiver of fear goes through me. "Would I... would I die?" I ask. "Or... get all fangy?"

"No!" he says. "No. That would... be worse, true. But, Buffy, it would mean that you and Spike would be... bonded, perhaps indefinitely. You might never be free of him."

"Are we talking Siamese twins here?" I ask.

"Nothing quite so extreme," Giles says with a tight smile. "More...It-it would allow you to call on one another’s strengths in times of need. You would share a mystical connection that would negate any claim Louhi still might have on Spike, and it-it would make you both stronger." He pauses for a moment. "Buffy, this would mean giving up any hope you may have of ever being with Angel. While the, uh, the ritual doesn’t take into account emotional attachments... I cannot imagine that it would be easy for you to have a relationship with Angel while... linked so intimately with Spike."

Whoa. Giles brought up Angel? Voluntarily?

That can only mean that he wants me to take this extra seriously. Or not do it at all.

Only, the pang of disappointment that I ought to be feeling over the thought of giving up Angel? Not there. Maybe you can only give someone up so many times before that part of you goes numb—and I've given up Angel so many times and then some. Yeah, there was a time when I had hoped that Angel would see things differently and come back. But I've grown up since then. I've seen too much. While there will always be a place for him in my heart, the love I feel for him isn't anything like what I'm starting to feel for Spike.

I don't think you can love someone without knowing the best and worst of them, Spike wrote in his journal.

Angel was always hiding the worst parts of himself from me, and always trying to change the parts of me he didn't approve of. I know why, now, but... I can't imagine a lifetime, even one as short as mine is supposed to be, with someone who never lets you really get to know them.

And I know Spike. I know his faults, his fears. I've seen the best and worst of him and... somehow I think that even though I know him now almost as well as I know myself, he'll never stop surprising me. A life with Spike would never be boring, and binding ritual or not, I know he'd always be by my side, helping me fight. That's just the way he's made, the way I'm made. We'll make our mistakes—neither of us is perfect. And we'll probably argue and bicker until the end.

But we'll love each other. We'll be together. Isn't that what matters?

Giles is staring at me like he expects some kind of answer.

"I gave up Angel a long time ago, Giles," I say carefully, not sure yet that he's ready to know that I'm in love with Spike.

"Spike is hardly a replacement, however," Giles says. "We're talking about a monster, Buffy. He doesn't have a soul. He's nothing like Angel. You would never have a normal life."

I laugh. I can't help it. "You're right. Spike doesn't have a soul. He doesn't need one. And we should be thanking our lucky stars that he's nothing like Angel. Because Angelus could never be half the man Spike is without one. Angelus would have gotten that chip out, or found ways around it, before he ever thought to turn to us for help. He would have killed us instead of fighting at our sides. I know exactly what sort of monsters they both are, now, and believe me when I say this, Giles... Spike is a far better choice."

He doesn't look convinced.

"As for normal? How was I ever going to be normal? I'm the Slayer. Even if I should somehow manage to outlive every other Slayer before me, it's not like that part of me is just going to disappear one day. It'll always be part of me. One of my best friends is a witch, the other is dating a woman who is over a thousand years old and who used to curse men's parts off... not exactly normal. Even if you somehow could magically take all that away and then stick me out in Normal, Iowa, or something, I'm still going to know that there are vampires and demons and that the world might just end every May unless I do something to stop it. Normal passed me by years ago, sitting on the front steps of Hemery High, when a tweedy little man told me that I had been Chosen to save the world. I'm never going to get it back, and all this trying... it's done nothing but make me unhappy. I get that now."

Giles looks slightly stunned. Like maybe I punched him in the stomach or something when he wasn't looking. After a moment he closes his mouth and clears his throat.

"Well," he says, finally. "That's remarkably, er..."

"Mature?" I say, smiling.

Giles blushes and ducks his head. "Not that you aren't. You've grown a great deal, this last year."

"Kinda had to," I remind him.

"Yes," he says. "Well... Still, Buffy... Spike?"

"Why can't you just say you don't like my boyfriend, Giles?" I say, picking up the duffel bag and tossing in Spike's cigarette pack and the lighter from his nightstand and the boots that he left by the bed.

I'm halfway up the ladder by the time Giles recovers enough to say, "Boyfriend?"

***

Snow is blowing in through the open crypt door upstairs, but Giles doesn't seem to notice it, or the paw prints in the snow leading to the crypt and back. There aren't any additional footprints, but there wouldn't be. My vampire is sneakier than that. I wonder how much he overheard?

Back in the car, Spike appears to be half asleep in the back seat, with Pooh curled up in the passenger’s seat. Their act would be utterly convincing if it weren't for the snow caked around the soles of Spike's shoes. He pretends to wake up as I climb in beside him, but the arm he places around my shoulders is tighter than before, and there's heat flashing in his eyes.

I just smile and cuddle into his side. Giles gets into the driver's seat without a word.

When we get to my house, I help Spike out, even though he's a big faking liar-head. Then I get out the duffel bag and sling it over my shoulder. Pooh clambers over the seat and darts out behind us, then spends a few minutes getting to know every scent in my yard, and leaving a few of his own.

"Men," I snort. "Why do you always have to go around and mark everything you think is yours?"

"Least some of us don't do it with urine," Spike snarks.

"Some of us can't," Giles says, pointedly, in a way that I'm sure he thinks is going to insult Spike.

"You sayin' you do, Rupes?" Spike says, eyes wide and innocent. "Didn't know you were that kinky. Next time I nick your scotch I'll have to wash the bottle first."

Giles just sputters.

"If the pissing contest is over, boys, do you think we could maybe go inside? I'm cold, and dirty, and I really want a shower now, cause... ew," I say.

Giles looks embarrassed, and Spike pretends to, which is the most I can really hope for, I guess.

"Will you...ah, need assistance?" Giles asks, trying to be polite.

"Showering?" I ask, confused.

"Think we've got it covered," Spike says. "Though you just keep getting kinkier an—"

"What Spike means to say," I interrupt, "is that we're good."

"Evil," Spike corrects.

"But if you could pick up some more blood, maybe?" I say. "And some hot food, before the others get over here, it'd be really appreciated."

"Make mine spicy," Spike asks. Giles just rolls his eyes.

"Of course, Buffy. I'll see what I can do. We'll reconvene in two hours, then?"

I yawn. "Only if there's going to be a lot of coffee."

Giles nods and gets back in the car as I help Spike to the door. I dig the key out of my backpack and unlock it, and then we're home.

____________

Author’s (Non-Spoilery) Postscript:

And you thought I was done with Pooh Bear… Trust me, he still has a part to play in all this. :)

Speaking of trusting me, though… I know some of you out there are anti-Claim, and it’s possible that the implications of this chapter might have you a bit itchy in the pants area. I would just like to state for the record that, first, this story is in many ways a fairy tale: it is based on several fairy tales and it uses fairy tale tropes—but it attempts (not always well) to make those tropes work within the reality the show constructed. If you’ve enjoyed it this far, then I don’t think that you’ll be terribly disappointed by anything in the upcoming chapters.

Second, and I will state this as emphatically as I can: the ritual to which Giles refers is not a claim. It might bear a slight superficial resemblance, but I set out to do something here that I hadn’t seen done before in fanfic and I wanted to try. I’ve got nothing personal against claim!fics—I even really like a few of them—but I wanted to try something different.

All I ask is that you trust me just a little further. You’re free to hate me afterwards, if you like.