Chpt. 1
"Soddin' Slayer!" The Bleach Blonde vampire swore as he landed on his back. Not really her fault, o' course, she isn't even around to kick my arse anymore, he thought bleakly. But still, I wouldn't be out here bein' all noble like and risking my hide for these wankers if she hadn't… hadn't… He couldn't even bring himself to think the word, let alone say it aloud.
The 'Buffy Bot' was a worthless excuse for a slayer, and in her attempt to stake a fledgling she'd knocked it into Spike and sent them both tumbling over a headstone. Spike jabbed a stake through the newborn vamp's chest and rolled himself up into a crouching position as it went poof in a cloud of dust. He curled his tongue over his top teeth in anticipation, and leapt out at a young vampire chasing the blonde witch. Poor Glinda, he thought as he snapped the vamp's neck and wrenched its head from its body with a poof of dust. What is she even doing out here? Red should'a let her stay home with the Bit 'stead of the demon girl.
"That looks like the last one," Willow bounded up behind him and Tara. "Spike, do you mind hanging around the house for a bit tonight? Tara and I need some adult time and Xander and Anya have plans already. I don't think Dawnie needs to be alone just yet…"
"Sure, Red. I'll keep the Niblit company, just got t' stop off at m' crypt. Landed in somethin' slimey thanks to the 'bot." He nodded at the couple, closing his lips around a cigarette and turned towards the other side of the cemetery.
"We'll let her know you're gonna be a few minutes!" Willow called after him.
Spike held up a mock salute before disappearing behind the line of trees.
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Spike leaned against the cool cement door of his crypt, eyes closed, taking a couple of deep, though unnecessary, breaths. He'd promised to take care of Dawn, and it was the only real thing he had left. He refused to drink human blood, even the nasty bagged crap Red and Glinda kept trying to feed him; Spike knew he looked like hell even without a reflection. Roughly four months of sleeping when he passed out from exhaustion, and just enough pig's blood to keep him from starving, left the bleach blonde vampire looking like a tweaker from the 70s. Nothin' but a bag o' bones and hollowed eyes, he though grimly.
He stripped as he made his way downstairs to the more hospitable cavern/bedroom under the crypt. He'd installed a showerhead after tapping into an exposed city water pipe some months ago. He stepped under the cascading water, letting it wash away the grime and guts from patrolling. A few tears slipped down his face and he turned his chin up defiantly, letting them disappear in the spray from the shower.
He toweled off quickly, and dressed in record time. The wiccas were probably getting annoyed or had already left. He pulled a pint of pig's blood from the fridge and downed its contents, knowing Dawn would screech and rip him a new one for not taking care of himself. He closed his eyes and drank and snapped them back open instantly. It was getting more and more difficult to pretend he didn't see her every night in his dreams, that he didn't try to save her night after night, and in the last few weeks that he didn't see her shining green eyes ev'ry time he closed his. Get a move on ya' wanker, the Bit is prolly worryin', he scolded himself for taking his sweet time.
To say Dawn had grown attached to Spike would be putting it mildly, though he wouldn't go so far as to say the teen was fond of him either. In his mind, he was keeping his promise to the Slayer, his heart on the other hand… He'd always been fond of the Summers girls, every last one of 'em; Joyce had treated him like a man – damaged – but still a man. And towards the end even the Slayer seemed to treat like less of a monster. He'd spent more time at the Summers' residence in the last couple of years than he'd even gone near some of the old dives he used to roll through.
He'd taught Dawn how to braid her own hair, and binge watched Passions with Joyce while sippin' hot cocoa. The scoobies only know a bit of this though, and he knew Dawn would never tell them. The Summers girls were like family to him, even the one that usually threw him out and kicked his arse, of course in his mind she'd always been more than family. And now Dawn's the only one of 'em left, he choked up a bit. O' course it doesn't make it any easier that Niblet looks so much like Kitty, but I'd gotten attached to those birds long before I realized that or how I felt about the slayer. Yes, he was keeping his promise to the slayer, and protecting the only person left that he cared about, too.
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"Spike! You gonna come in or just be a creep on the front porch all night?" Dawn's shrill voice pulled him from his thoughts.
He pushed through the front door and smirked at the teen. "Sorry, Bit. Lost track of time trying to get the demon goo off m' duster."
Dawn's eyes tightened a bit at the smirk, she could see right through the façade he put up, because she was putting on her own. His smirk slipped as she ran at him, bawling her eyes out and soaking the front of his shirt. Spike held onto her and inched them inside the house a bit further.
"Bad day, Bit?"
Dawn clung to him, "Everyone leaves…"
Spike closed his eyes; clear green ones sparkled back at him in his mind, but for once they were reassuring. "Dawn, I know it's hard, sweet. But that isn't true…"
She raised her tear-stained face to give him a scowl, and started to pull away.
"Pet, just listen for a second. Eventually, yes, everyone meets his or her death. There's no escape, not even for me. But even in death, the people we love are still here with us. S'long as we're here living, they live on in us. You still hear your mom in your head? Tellin' ya' to pick up your clothes or not talk while your chewing? That's because she's still with you, Dawnie, and big sis is, too."
Dawn's mouth hung open, her watery blue eyes wide. "Spike… that's so… Is that what you actually believe or are you just trying to make me feel better?"
"I don't just believe, pet. I know." His voice waivered a little, as he debated on whether or not to tell her this next bit, before pressing on. "I close my eyes and I still see your big sis starin' back at me. Thought I was going barmy at first, but I figured out she's about as close as I ever got to havin' a real conscience, and now all I have to do is close my eyes to remind myself tha' she would've wanted me to be the white hat do-gooder. Doesn' bring her back, but it's about all that keeps me from losin' all hope and meetin' the sun some mornings."
"Don't talk like that… I can't lose you, too. Willow and Tara and Xander and Anya, they're not the same. They were her friends, sure. And I love them all, but they're only here because they think they should be. You're here with me because you want to be. You're like my big brother, Spike. I can't lose the only family I have left."
Spike inhaled sharply when she said 'family,' and stared at her incredulously. The Bit, Dawn, had just called him family. Sure, he thought that way, but never expected it to be mutual. What's next? Slayer was actually in love with me all these years? He laughed out loud then, and Dawn saw what was probably his first true smile since her sister climbed up to save her from Glory's tower.
_Do the Wacky_
Chpt. 2
Willow sat cross-legged in front of Buffy's head stone, her eyes closed as she meditated, clearing the energy in the area and releasing some of her own pent up tension. Tara's warm, loving energy beside her was probably soothing. She'd spent days trying to hide the stress, and nerves, this spell was causing in her, but tonight was it. Their only shot at bringing Buffy back, and all of the scoobies knew they needed her back.
Anya tried to warn them, but none of them ever listened. They all just assume I'm the least useful and that I don't know what I'm talking about. It's not like I'm over 1200 years old and have seen damn near everything the magic world has to offer, she snarled in her head. It's not that this may not work; it will work if the spell is done properly, but this kind of thing always comes with a price. And had anybody even bothered to make sure they were saving Buffy from a hell dimension? Not just yanking her out of a peaceful resting place? She settled down into the circle between Xander and Tara. Willow was running the show, all she had to do was be still and concentrate on her candle.
Willow opened the spell by announcing the title and importance of the woman they were trying to resurrect. "Here lies the warrior of the people…" Blah, blah blah… All pretty standard for recounts of the previously successful resurrections, Anya thought. She'd pulled the research and previewed the books Willow had ordered before actually handing them over to the witch. Then things started to get interesting. The god was testing the witch since she had envoked his power of to perform the spell. Slits ran up both arms and she started gagging. She double over with the pain of whatever it was but never let go of the spell, even when the rather large snake wormed its way out of her mouth… Anya's eyes bugged, that had never been in any of the descriptions of previous resurrections.
"WILLOW, I REQUIRE MAINTENANCE!" The "Buffy Bot" came stumbling and sparking into the grove of trees that surrounded the real Buffy's grave.
Have to give the witch some credit, she didn't even flinch, Anya thought. An engine revved loudly and far too close to still be out on the road, and then a gang of hellions crashed through the trees and into their circle.
"NOOOO!" Willow screamed as a motorcycle crushed the urn of Osiris and fainted from the strain of the magic and the shock of the spell being broken so suddenly.
Xander scooped the red head up and took off into the trees, Anya and Tara chasing after him. The hellions seemed to be more interested in the 'bot, and Anya was relieved for that. The four of them moved slowly and ducked behind a group of boulders. Anya checked for a pulse on the redheaded witch, while Tara anxiously twitched about checking her for injuries.
"I think she'll be alright, just exhaustion from the spell and the shock of having the link ripped away. She'll be back to giving you wonderful girl-on-girl action in no time." Anya beamed at the soft-spoken witch. Xander tried really hard to not create any mental pictures from his girlfriend's statement about his best friend.
"Ahn… Nevermind. I can probably carry her, but I don't think I can make all the way back to Revello Drive carrying dead weight."
Tara glanced at him sharply from the use of the word 'dead,' but recovered quickly. "C-closest place is the Magic Box. I can do a homing s-s-spell with the store as the target and it'll lead us out of h-here."
Xander nodded at the witch, and scooped her girlfriend up onto his back, piggyback style. Anya wrapped Willow's arms around her boyfriend's neck, trying to anchor her on his back. A ball of light appeared in front of Tara, and Xander nodded for her to lead the way. Anya stayed close behind him, this is not going to work if she slips, I can't catch her; I may break something or strain important sex muscles. Oh, I hope Xander doesn't pull any muscles…
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The roar of tires outside the small two story stirred Spike from a fitful doze. The thin being next to him sniffled and slipped further down into the couch cushion. He sat up slowly, trying not to wake the sleeping teenager, and peered out the window. His eyes widened at the chaos in the street. Hellions were everywhere, ransacking the neighbors' yards, trashing the family car, and two were headed for the porch of the Summers' house. Spike ducked away from the window, muting the telly when he passed the remote on the couch. He gently shook Dawn awake, covering her mouth to silence her protests.
"We've got to get out of here. There's demons all over the block," he whispered as he pulled her along toward the kitchen door.
"Wait!" Dawn hissed back, and rolled her eyes at him when he turned to glare back at her. "Weapons," she said pointing to Buffy's 'trunk of Slayer-tricks.'
Spike grinned back, Niblit thinks just like her big sis, never go anywhere without some kind o' weapon. He flipped the trunk open and felt a sharp pang in his chest cavity; nothing has been touched since that night. Memories and images flashed through his mind and he inhaled sharply, shaking his head to clear away the memory of his slayer lying on the ground at the foot of Glory's tower. He gently rummaged through the trunks contents, careful to make as little noise as possible and avoid stabbing himself with any especially sharps pieces of the slayer's weapons surplus. He plucked two short swords from the depths of the chest, and strapped them into a holster on his back. Fortunately, I left the duster at the crypt tonight, he thought ironically. He really hadn't felt like the Big Bad-leather-duster-wearing-slayer-of-slayers since that night; hadn't felt like much more than a bleedin' ponce. His lip curled in distaste at the thought, quit brooding you sod! He scolded himself, before turning and slinking back towards the kitchen door.
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Buffy's eyes opened slowly and she took a deep breath of the stale, dank air closed in around her. She choked and gagged, and in a panic started clawing at the material above her. Her eyes widened in shock. She was still buried. Buried alive. Or rather… yeah whatever. Too confusing. She shook the thought away and did her best to punch and break her way out of the confined space. Dirt and pebbles spilled in the more she broke through the top panel of her coffin. Her heart raced and she held her breath. She pushed her way through the earth, grunting and grumbling. Roots snagged her hair and dress. She felt the free air on her now injured knuckles and started kicking and pulling frantically to get her head above ground. She gasped breathing the cool air into her lungs. Pulling herself free of the suffocating grave, she collapsed to the ground near her own headstone.
Sobs racked through her body as she desperately clung to the memories of her mother's presence. Heaven had been beautiful warmth and every thing here was dark and cold. Anne Pratt's voice, just before Buffy was pulled back to earth, sounded in her ears again, the hardest thing in this world is to live in it, live for me, for him, and most importantly for yourself. There it was. A slight twist on the words she'd spoke to Dawn just before her final sacrifice, and Buffy knew in her heart that Anne was right. She had to live. She blinked through the tears, trying to clear her vision but it remained blurry even after the tears stopped. Oh right, dead for months… I wonder what else is going to come back gradually… She arched and jumped up to her feet. Okay… Slayer agility still intact… She wobbled on her kitten heels, equilibrium, not so much.
It was dark out, which meant all of the lovely creatures of the hellmouth would be out and about. She glanced around, squinting to see if something could be used as a weapon. Seeing only her headstone and the disturbed earth of her grave, she shrugged and slipped through the trees towards the main cemetery. She walked and walked, the familiar shapes of headstones and mausoleums relaxing her slightly, and for the first time, probably ever, nothing attacked her before she left the gate of the cemetery. She looked wildly around her, up and down the street, and felt her head spin. Whoa… Equilibrium is still screwed up. Guess that takes more than a few minutes to come back post-post-mortem. She snickered at her own joke, and then coughed, choking on the thick smog around her. Smoke and burning liquor stench filled the air, scorching her sensitive nostrils. The light of the full moon was harsh to her newly re-animated eyes. She closed them, counting the seconds, as she breathed through her slightly parted lips not wanting to risk the foul stench filling the air.
"Hey look… the stupid thing survived! Never mind that it ruined everything!"
"Wills, I'm thinking new programming next time. Nearest radio shack, instead of coming back to you for the teeniest of scratches."
Buffy opened her eyes and backed away slowly. The group of scoobies had stumbled out of the woods a few dozen yards behind her and she could hear them approaching. Her breathing accelerated and in a moment of panic she turned to face their unfriendly words. They… They did this. They the reason I got the choice to come back. It made her mad. She was done, she shouldn't have had to make the choice. But it was still a choice, and you went willingly back to them… Live, sweetheart, for them… Buffy ran.
She needed to find her. The whole reason she ended up there in the first place. Her little sister, the Key, she's the only one who could possibly understand. The only person who would believe the absurdity of this entire ordeal would be the 15-year-old girl who witnessed every aching second of her death. Buffy stumbled and fell into heap, sobbing once more. She pulled herself to a nearby building, and rested against the cool bricks. This newly re-animated thing isn't much fun. Everything hurts and all I want to do is sleep. At least I'm not craving brains. I need to find Dawn, and… him. How am I going to explain this? "Oh yeah, you know that whole turning your mom into a monster? She forgives you." Yeah… That'll go real well.
"Look boys… I think we've found another one for the fire!" A wrinkly, spotted hand grabbed her roughly by the arm. She squinted at the leather-clad demon. Where do these guys get their fashion sense? Or lack-there-of? She pulled his meaty fingers from her arm with a growl. He looked back at her and backhanded her into the bricks she'd been leaning on only moments ago. She snarled at the demons surrounding her, idly wondering why she sounded more like a pissed off vampire than a sarcastic, angry slayer. She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts that were spinning all around her. She wrenched the hellion off of the motorcycle by one of his piercings and gave a feral grin at his girlish squeal.