Chapter 7: One Step Forward…

“This is pointless,” Anya sighed, closing the open tome on the table in front of her. The group had researched all day and had found nothing; Giles’ theory was still the closest thing to an explanation for Buffy’s behavior.

Giles didn’t want to admit it, but he, too, felt any further research would be fruitless. He had hoped that there would be some mention of aftereffects of a resurrection spell such as this, but he was wrong. “I’m afraid you’re right.” Giles pulled off his glasses to clean them and thought for a moment.

“What about the Watchers’ Diaries?” Willow inquired.

“This is the only occurrence of a Slayer being resurrected. I don’t think the Diaries would be very forthcoming in this situation.”

“Well, the Council isn’t exactly known for sharing information. They probably wouldn’t tell you if this had happened before,” Anya offered.

Giles glared at her, but he knew she had a point. Ever since his fallout with Quentin on Buffy’s eighteenth birthday, the British man and his followers had kept information from him. On most days, he was glad Buffy had quit the Council and that he no longer had to follow their ridiculous rules, but sometimes, like now, he wished that he had remained an intricate part of the organization.

He sighed, “That may be true, but how do you suggest we gain that particular information, Anya?”

“Break into the Council,” she replied with a shrug, in a voice that seemed to say ‘duh’.

“Could we even do that?” Willow wondered.

“Not likely.”

“We’re runnin’ outta options here, G-man.”

“Thank you, Xander. I did not realize that. What would we do without you?” The older man grumbled sarcastically, throwing a glare the brunette’s way.

“I guess we can only do what Mr. Giles suggested and give Buffy some time.”

“I suppose I could contact the Council and see if they’re willing to tell us anything. Until then, I suggest we give Buffy time and space as Tara said. She’s strong, she’ll be all right.”

Giles hoped he sounded more convincing than he felt.

***

“Do you think we could take her patrolling? Maybe if she kills something, it’ll help her?” Dawn sat on the couch with Spike while Buffy slept upstairs.

“I dunno, Bit. I don’t think Giles would be too happy about that. I’ll do a quick sweep tonight, just so the demons know there’s still a threat.”

“I hate this.” Dawn crossed her arms and pouted, “We just sit around all day, waiting for Buffy to do something and she never does. I want my sister back.”

Spike wrapped an arm around Dawn and pulled her against his side. “I know, plum. She’ll come back. I promise. And you know I never break a promise.” He touched his forehead to hers briefly before pulling away, “She just needs to figure out how. Have some faith.”

“You do see the irony in that last statement, don’t you?” Dawn raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not lost on me, no. Now go get some kip.” He patted her back in an effort to make her stand up. She did as instructed and leaned down to kiss his cheek before bounding up the stairs.

“Love you, Spike.” His undead heart warmed from that declaration. No one except for his mother had ever loved him for just being him. However, Dawn did, and he thanked whatever power he could for that, hoping that one day her sister would feel the same.

“You too, Nibblet.”

A few minutes later, Spike heard a creak in the stairs and quickly turned his head towards the sound. Buffy stood there, wringing her hands in front of her in a nervous, yet familiar gesture.

“Hi, pet.” Spike smiled warmly.

“Could we patrol?” The request was spoken so softly, that Spike was afraid he imagined it.

“Pet?”

“Patrolling. Could we, uh, go?” The request was hesitant. Spike couldn’t believe his ears. Buffy had said something. Finally. He was consumed with hope that everything in his world would turn out right just from those few words, because it meant Buffy was moving forward and there was a chance for happiness in both of their futures.

“Buffy… I don’t know.”

She stepped away from the banister to walk towards him, “Please, Spike. I’ve been cooped up in this house for days. I need to get out.” Her eyes pleaded with him.

“Buffy, I… how long have you been able to talk?” Spike stood up, squinting in curiosity.

Buffy looked down shyly and with a slight shrug replied, “Since yesterday.”

The vampire closed his eyes for a second as he thought about her answer. “Why are you just speaking your first words now, then?”

“I wasn’t ready yet,” she said simply, and came into the doorway separating the foyer and family room.

“But you think you’re ready to patrol?”

Buffy rolled her eyes at that, “I’m the Slayer, Spike. Slaying is what I do.”

“I know that, luv, but are you strong enough?”

“Yes, Mom,” she replied sarcastically. “Plus, I’ll have you to back me up!” She graced him with a dazzling smile before hopping up and grabbing a coat, showing him there was no point in arguing with her.

Spike stood in shock for a moment, trying to process what had just occurred. Buffy suddenly appeared to be one hundred percent recovered and back to her old self; but he knew her better than she realized, and he could tell that she wasn’t okay. She was putting up a façade to hide her true feelings about being alive again. He hoped that with time and patience she would let him in; let him take the pain away and show her that life could be wonderful.