A/N: As you'll be able to tell by the end of this chapter, this fic will contain some Buffy/OC (though he won't show up for a little while). I think it's worth it to see jealous Spike, and I promise there will be a Spuffy reward for putting up with it.

The song in this chapter is “Something to Be,” by Rob Thomas. And yes, the first half of the Scooby scene is directly from “Tabula Rasa” but it fit so well I wanted to use it. Sometimes, you just can’t do better than Joss & co.

*****

Chapter 1: Fixing It

The night air was thick with moisture, the tepid stillness that preceded a violent break in the humidity. Buffy was patrolling near the Bronze, and she could faintly hear the music playing inside, punctuated by the rumbling thunderclaps that signaled the coming storm.

Hey man
I don't wanna hear about love no more
I don't wanna talk about how I feel
I don't really wanna be me, no, no more

Part of her wished she could be in there, dancing with her friends and laughing without a care, but there was another side of her that craved the solitude and darkness of patrol. She knew she should fight those urges, because isolating herself wouldn’t help matters, but she figured she was doing her friends a favor. Dark and solitudy wasn’t much fun to be around. Plus, kicking the crap out of demons was a great stress-reliever.

And boy, did she have stress. That was the other reason she wasn’t hanging out in the Bronze with her friends. Their relationship of late could be generously described as “awkward,” bordering on “strained,” with an occasional dash of “overwhelmed by the crushing weight of secrets and guilt.”

Which was mostly her fault, she supposed. They’d been walking on eggshells around her ever since her drunken spilling of the metaphorical beans. She still fought the inner battle with her conscience, wondering if it had been right to tell them about being in heaven – it hurt them, yeah, but in some ways, it was easier. At least she didn’t have to pretend to be something she wasn’t.

I’ve been looking for something
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Something I’ve never seen
Yeah, yeah, yeah
We’re all looking for something
Something to be

The coveted solitude was fleeting, as Buffy noticed a suspicious couple leaving the Bronze. There was something about the guy and his possessive hold on the girl that made her follow them, and all her slayer senses were telling her “vampire.” Sure enough, as soon as they turned down an alley, the guy morphed into his vampire guise and threw the girl against a dumpster.

“Now, that’s no way to treat a lady,” said Buffy, illuminated by a flash of light as she appeared in the alley entrance, her arms folded across her chest. The vampire looked over at her angrily and tightened his hold on his victim, eliciting a frightened cry from the girl.

“She deserves dinner, and maybe a nice hotel room,” the Slayer went on. With the booming thunder as a soundtrack, Buffy got a running start and did a flip in front of the vamp, kicking him in the face while in midair. She landed on her feet and threw a few quick punches at him. “Run!” she shouted to the girl, now crumpled in a sobbing heap by the foot of the dumpster. Her legs had given out from shock, and she collapsed on the ground as soon as the vampire had lost his grip on her, but otherwise she was relatively unharmed.

“Get out of here!” The frightened girl didn’t need to be told twice, scrambling to her feet and high-tailing it out of the alley without looking back.

“On second thought,” Buffy said, backhanding the vampire, “I don’t think you’re gonna need a whole room.” She pulled a stake out of her waistband. “You’ll be able to fit in an ashtray.” She lunged forward and staked the vamp.

I can't stand what I'm starting to be
No, I can't stand the people that I'm starting to need
There's so much now
That can go wrong
And I don't need nobody
Trying to help it along

Brushing the dust off her hands, Buffy heard someone clapping in the shadows. She peered down the alleyway, and sure enough, she saw Spike coming toward her. It reminded her of the first time they’d met. The first time he’d promised to kill her, she thought, with an almost absurd sense of nostalgia.

“Well done, love, excellent job,” he said, his trademark sneer on his face. “Though I think you’re overusing the ashtray line a bit.”

“You could’ve helped,” she said, even though she hadn’t needed it.

“What, and get a mouthful of slayer fist when I get in your way? No thank you.” Spike couldn’t get a handle on her. If he tried to pitch in, she didn’t want it. But if he didn’t help, she complained about it. Sometimes, he really thought she did it just to annoy him. Damned women and their fickle nature.

“How’s the slaying tonight?”

“Slow,” she replied. “That’s the first one all night.” Lightning flashed again, frighteningly near, immediately followed by a thunderclap so loud Buffy swore she felt the ground vibrating. She resisted the urge to grasp onto Spike’s arm, because she was the Slayer and she was so not afraid of thunderstorms. “Maybe the vamps are staying in tonight on account of rain.”

Spike scoffed. “We don’t melt.”

“Looks like we’re about to find out. C’mon.” As the first large drops started falling, she broke off at a run, hoping to make it home without getting totally soaked. She didn’t much care whether Spike followed her or not, but sure enough, there he was, feet pounding on the asphalt as they ran up the street towards Buffy’s house.

It's the same old song
Everybody says you've been away too long
Everybody wanna tell you what went wrong
Wanna make you like an icon
Till you believe that they're right

*****

“Do you think she… walked around on clouds, wearing, like, Birkenstocks, and played a harp?” Anya asked, trying to fill the silence as the four of them sat around the table in Xander and Anya’s apartment. They hadn’t had much time to dwell on what Buffy had told them, what with the dragon panic and everything, but now that things had settled back to normal, the Scoobies were ripe for a pity-party. “Cause those are just not flattering. You know, the clonky sandals, not a harp.” She realized she was babbling, but she couldn’t help it. “I mean, who doesn't look good with a harp?”

No one responded. There was no good response to that. The others just looked at her, unsure of what to make of her and her bizarre ex-demony observations.

“What?” Anya demanded. “I'm just saying what everyone's thinking.” She turned to Xander. “Right, baby?”

“You are attractive and have many good qualities.” Xander prudently avoided saying yes or no while fiddling with his cup.

“It's totally not stupid to wonder what it was like for Buffy,” said Tara, trying to reassure Anya. “But it could have been any one of a zillion heavenly dimensions. All we know is that it was a good place, and she was happy there.”

“And we took her away from that,” Willow muttered, staring into her coffee mug. “We wrecked it for her.”

“We didn't wreck. We didn't know,” Xander said.

“We didn't wanna know,” said Willow. “We were so selfish. I was so selfish.” Her voice broke, and she felt Tara’s hand creep into her own under the table, giving her a sympathetic squeeze.

Xander heaved a sigh and shook his head, turning it over in his mind. “Maybe we were. I just feel weird feeling bad that my friend's not dead. It's too mind-boggling. So I've decided to simplify the whole thing.” He sat forward, leaning decisively on the table. “Me like Buffy. Buffy's alive, so, me glad.” He gave them all a sheepish half-smile, but when no one laughed at his cave-speak, it quickly faded from his face.

“Not to be Miss Psycho Pep Squad,” said Tara, her voice exhausted but determined, “but we have got to stop obsessing about what we did and start trying to make things better for Buffy.”

Anya nodded, playing with her spoon. “I'm with Miss Psycho Pep Squad.”

“We need to spend more time with her, you know, just hang out,” Xander suggested. “Maybe have weekly dinners over here, or, uh… a book club. Short books. Videos,” he corrected himself, remembering that Buffy shared his relatively short attention span when it came to books.

“I can fix it,” said Willow. “I know a spell.”

“No!” Tara cried, whipping her head around to look at her girlfriend sitting next to her. “No more spells.” Spike wouldn’t say when she asked, but she’d figured out enough to know that Willow had considered using a truth spell on Buffy before she told them about heaven. It had shocked her that Willow was willing to manipulate her best friend in that way, but it worried her even more that she was still turning to magic to solve her problems.

“Then what?” Willow asked her. “This isn't something that's gonna be fixed by a video club. I know I messed up, okay, and I wanna fix it.”

“We can’t just do a spell and make her forget,” Tara replied. “That’s not what magic’s for, Willow. We have to help her, make her feel like living again. I think spending time with her is a good idea.”

“We could all go to the Bronze,” Anya suggested.

“Just like old times,” said Xander. “That’s good. Some good old-fashioned Scooby bondage.” His eyes widened when he realized what he’d said. “Uh, that came out wrong.”

“What if that’s not what she wants?” said Willow dejectedly. “She’s been kind of a loner since… I mean, maybe she doesn’t want to be around people… around us.” She thought back to her conversation with Buffy when Buffy had asked her to move out. She’d certainly been distancing herself from her friends, even now. She never asked them to patrol with her anymore, they rarely hung out at the Bronze or at Buffy’s house, and hardly even saw each other except in passing at the Magic Box. Willow had thought bringing Buffy back would make everything better, but it was like she’d lost her best friend all over again.

“And she’s been spending way too much time with Spike,” Xander added. “Tell me I’m not the only one who’s noticed.”

“You’re not the only one,” admitted Tara.

“And, lest we forget, Evil Dead was the enabler of the whole bad drinking situation.”

“Buffy’s a big girl, Xander,” Anya said. “She can make her own decisions. If she wants to drink –”

“No, Ahn!” He brought his hand down on the table harder than he intended, startling even himself with the sound. When he continued, his voice was quieter and more controlled. “I’ve had some experience with alcoholism. It’s not pretty. And I just can’t let Buffy…” He trailed off with a shudder, memories of his childhood renewing the sense of dread he felt whenever he thought about his parents. The others looked down, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. For them, Buffy’s drinking had been a cause for concern. But for Xander, it was the beginning of a nightmare he knew all too well. Anya reached over and took his hand in hers, a sympathetic expression on her face.

Silence fell again. Lightning flashed outside the window and they all jumped slightly as the thunder crashed above them. Then the only sound was the rain pounding on the roof.

“I had a thought,” Willow said hesitantly after a while. “Tara, you know Jacob? My history study buddy?”

“Yeah…” she replied, unsure of what that had to do with Buffy.

“He’s cute, right?”

Tara smiled demurely. “Not really my type.”

“Oh! But he might be Buffy’s!” Anya looked at Willow. “That was where you were going with that, right?” Willow nodded.

“I don’t know, Will,” Xander said uncertainly. “Buffy died, we pulled her out of heaven, and your solution is fixing her up on a blind date?” He looked skeptical.

“Look, she needs something normal right now. What’s more normal than dating? And it gives her something to look forward to, to connect her to the world.”

“Something to live for,” Tara added, starting to get the idea.

“Something that’s not us,” Willow finished, with just a hint of bitterness. “And, hey, at least you’d have another guy to talk to.”

“And it would get her away from Spike,” Anya pointed out. Xander raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. He couldn’t think of an argument that could possibly be better than that.