Author's Note: It recently entered my awareness that, after 6 years since its syndication and retaining the highest volume of fanfiction since its creation, Buffy: The Vampire Slayer has just recently been out-written by some show called Supernatural. Saddened and disillusioned (if not a little intrigued), I submit this fic in contribution to the apparently thinning ranks of creative voices who's real lives have either taken over or moved on and dedicate it to those yet to enter this particular world of wonder. I am new to , having selfishly preferred the more review-ready niche of smaller communities, and could use a warm welcome. I hope you enjoy this spin on an old 'ship and stay vocal enough to keep it coming!
(Preemptive apologies for my appalling use of punctuation. Plenty of smut to compensate in later chapters.)
-M. Ledgerwood
Chapter One: Beloved Sister, Devoted Friend
-One Week Later-
Buffy lie flat on her back, the cold wet of the grass seeping through her shirt as a cloud of putrid dust settled over her. She flung the stake from where she held it pointing outward and rolled over in a brief fit of coughing.
She had learned, early on, to hold her breath with the close-up kills and by now it should have been instinct. Then again, she was still a bit rusty. 'Who am I kidding?' she resigned as she pulled herself up, brushing off dust and foliage. By now it should have been nothing. She'd been done with death, only to be forced back into the everyday of it that was Sunnydale.
Placing the sharpened wood piece back into the sewn-in pouch on the inner lining of her jacket, she tightened the leather around her and continued on in the general direction of the road.
She tread at a leisurely pace, casually kicking up dust and earth as she went- consciously drawing more attention to herself in the hopes of attracting one last bloodthirsty beastie looking for a fight, before reaching home and crawling into bed for a long night of sleeplessness. Not for the first time since her return, she considered how easy it would be to lose one of these routine battles. She would let her guard down, just for a minute, offer that moment of hesitation in which she could be overcome by arms and teeth, and then… poof. Only, her this time and in the less literal sense.
But, alas, her stratagem was no good. Because then all the people she loved, the very same she'd died protecting, would feel the pain and loss of it all over again- only this time, they would blame themselves. She could just hear Willow's frantic plea now:
"But she's faced tons of vamps before, guys, hundreds, and she's always fought and won! We must have messed up, Giles, brought her back wrong or something..."
Giles. It was difficult to factor him into all of this and she often had to remind herself that he'd had no part in her resurrection. In fact, Buffy had found herself wondering, if perhaps… if maybe Giles had known…
She stopped walking suddenly and looked around. Weird… She must have taken a wrong turn or veered off unknowingly because she somehow found herself in a different part of the cemetery altogether. She turned a bit to get her bearings and again caught sight of the road off to her far, rear left. She crossed her arms and, giving her momentary disorientation little focus, headed once more for the street that would lead her home. This time, she had only allowed herself to be lost in thought for a few seconds before she realized that she had once again lost sight of her path and was going the wrong way. She let out a puff of frustration, which blew the hair beside her face before moving to turn again in the direction of the road (now to her right). But before she could even take another step, something grabbed her attention from the corner of her vision and she froze. Her eyes moved first to the ground five feet beside her and the rest of her body followed their direction until she stood facing the thing dead on.
BUFFY ANNE SUMMERS
1981-2001
BELOVED SISTER
DEVOTED FRIEND
SHE SAVED THE WORLD
A LOT
For some time, she simply stared. A feeling overcame her, briefly, as if she was intruding on some peaceful rest; that some dead thing lie beneath the tilled earth and she, standing there, had no right to disturb it. Then came the lefty-logic of her brain and she knelt to press her hand to the damp soil. Her fingers were white as bone against the dark, rich dirt.
It was fresh. Again.
The keepers of Sunnydale's cemetery were not unaccustomed to finding the graves of those freshly buried torn up with little more remains than empty battered coffins, and it was obvious that they had dealt with her own in much the same manner as the countless others over the years; They had covered it back up. No one ever bothered to alert the families anymore. Whether that was standard policy by now or an understanding amongst few, Buffy had never bothered to find out. The irony of it all, of her place in these "inexplicable" events, both before and now, was not lost on her.
She placed her hands on her knees, preparing to right herself, when some tiny object gleamed under the moon's brief attentions. Buffy stretched on all fours, reaching for the bit of metal. It tore easily from the earth, clinging only slightly to entangled bits of mud and grass and she stood to examine it closer. As she rolled it between her fingertips to rid it of the debris, a new sense of shock and wonder overcame.
It was the ring. Giles' ring. The one he wore for her.
Buffy hadn't cried much in the days since her return but she now felt a hot ball of something constrict in the back of her throat and a stinging in the corners of her eyes. She fought the urge to shut them as a multitude of emotions flooded her instantly.
First, sadness- deep and unadulterated. She felt grief and guilt as her imagination allowed her, for the first time, to conjure what it must have taken for her watcher to let her go. This had, after all, had been his calling and his destiny, too. Then, a fleeting moment of hurt- that he would choose to discard something of such value, such a sentimental symbol of their bond. And finally, understanding- of whatever closure had come from this offering to her grave. Eyes wide and brimming with tears un-spilled, she slipped the ring onto her middle finger and held it slightly from her chest.
Her hand in the moonlight appeared so skeletal that she closed her eyes for fear that they might turn to bone before her. Just in that moment, the band of gold and stone was enveloped by a shimmering green light and Buffy felt it almost like a small electric spark. Startled by the sensation, she opened her eyes, relieved, if not slightly confused, to find the pale appendage looking more or less unextraordinary.
With a hasty sniffle against the sleeve of her jacket, she removed the ring, shoved it into the front pocket of her jeans and turned to walk briskly in the direction of her house.
This time, the graveyard let her leave.
...
"Hmmm…"
The sound of tins and glass jars scraping against bare wood could be heard amidst the quiet of the kitchen in the Summers' house. Willow was supposed to repaper the cabinet shelves last week and yet, in all the commotion, Tara could hardly be annoyed that it had fallen by the wayside.
"Where are you, Mr. Mugwort...?" The blonde witch stretched to reach the very back of the shelf, hips braced against the edge of the counter top and tip-toes perched on the small footstool below. She pushed aside powders and loose-leafs, some printed and labeled in the magic box, others by Willow and Tara (more than a few of them decorated with symbols and runes and others with hearts and crudely drawn "woman parts").
"Ah ha! Sneaky perennial…"
She had just closed the cabinet door, placed the small jar of herb on the counter, and brought one foot off the stool to lower herself, when it stopped mid-way, not yet touching the floor. Someone, or something, was outside the front door. She heard a jingling of brass as the doorknob twisted and a small creaking-open in the hinges.
"Buffy...?" She called.
The past summer had been relatively quiet for the homestead and she knew Buffy was out patrolling. Still, they could never get too comfortable, and uttering the name could be weapon enough against the right foul fiend just looking for an easy slaughter.
"It's me," she heard from around the corner and she let out the breath she had been holding.
"Hey You," she came around to greet her at the foot of the staircase. "H-How was patrolling?"
"Uh, you know, good. With the bad..." Buffy replied. "Pretty standard, I guess."
"Good. I mean, good," she said, adjusting her tone in a way that seemed to matter.
There was an awkward moment between the two as Buffy wondered if there was something else she was supposed to say.
"Well, I think I'm gonna just go wash the death off me... and then...bed."
Buffy cringed inwardly. Her first crack at a crack since her return and she had gracelessly fumbled it in the worst way. She felt like she'd just pointed to the morbidly obese elephant in their tiny house and cackled. Looking up expecting to find Tara's spooked expression, she was instead met with the same brand of concern she had been receiving the last few days. Or had it been a week already...?
"W-Well I was just making some tea," Tara stuttered in her usual way. "For me and Willow. We drink it sometimes before bed. I, I mean, it helps. W-with the sleeping." She could tell she had piqued Buffy's interest and added enthusiastically, "It can even make your dreaming state more lucid, like, more aware...?"
"NO." Buffy realized she had raised her voice and looked down at her shoes.
"No dreamy tea for me. I think a shower should be fine…" She started to pull herself up the stairs and then turned again as if she'd just remembered something.
"But thanks."
The other woman shrugged ever slightly and gave Buffy a smile that settled in her eyes. It was all things Tara- shy, kind, wise and worried- and Buffy tried to muster the affection she vaguely felt she should return.
"Gunnight."
"Night," Tara called up after her. She watched Buffy ascend for a second until she decided to return to her tea. Just then, however, something caught her eye and she lingered just inside the hallway to stare a little longer.
Tara frowned as Buffy's aura shifted colors.
...…
"Buffy!"
Her entire body gave an involuntary, startled jolt as she entered the dark hallway to find her sister standing directly in front her.
"Sorry- God, I've been doing that, haven't I? Don't worry- it's not just you. I'm pretty much a spazz-attack to everyone. But, I mean, you know that..." Dawn rambled, apologetically.
"Why aren't you asleep?" Buffy asked and ignored the briefly pained expression on her sister's face. She knew why she was still awake. The night before, Dawn had already been in bed by the time Buffy got home and she had been somewhat ashamed at the small relief she'd felt. Yet, at about 3:00am that morning, light had come flooding into her bedroom through a crack in the door and she could make out Dawn's round face peeking out from in between it. She'd lingered just a moment, long enough to confirm the presence of a breathing body beneath the covers, and then slipped out again, quietly.
"I couldn't sleep. That's all. Patrolling was good? I mean, okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine." It got a little easier to say each time. "You should really..."
"I know," Dawn assured emphatically rolling her eyes as if the suggestion had been made with the same emphasis. "I'm going to."
Buffy watched Dawn struggle to physically refrain from reaching out for a hug and, a little awkwardly, closed the distance between herself and the younger girl. She was met with eager arms.
"Goodnight."
Dawn squeezed tightly and Buffy held her breath. It seemed to last forever.
As if remembering herself, Dawn stepped back slightly.
"I'll see you in the morning? I mean, duh." She smiled. "Don't let the bed bugs bite," Dawn offered, as if it was what they always said.
"Won't," Buffy replied. 'Night."
Following her sister's lead, Dawn turned and headed in the direction her room.
The muscles in Buffy's shoulders and back loosened instantly as the bathroom door closed behind her. As it had become habit to her in the last week, she closed her eyes and felt along the wall for the light-switch. Giving them ample time to adjust, her eyes remained shut as she crossed her arms around her midriff, lifted her shirt at the seams and pulled it up over her head. Even after she could look around the room, Buffy avoided her reflection; still haunted by the last time she saw her face staring back at her (and the smoke-and-mirrory weirdness that had followed). She moved towards the tub and pulled aside the curtains.
After the initial squeak of the knobs there was a loud, rumbling groan and Buffy jumped backwards. She watched the showerhead sputtered a couple of times before, much to her horror, it began spewing a steady stream of thick, dark red-brown.
The hairs stood up on the back of Buffy's Neck.
"No..." she barely whispered as she clamped her eyes shut again and willed it to go away. She took a long, deep breath to calm herself, and that was when she noticed it. The smell. It was slightly metallic, not unlike blood, yet definitely more pungent.
Buffy's face scrunched up as she took another pointed sniff and opened one eye.
"Ughhhh."
She reached forward and twisted the screeching knobs to stop the flow of rusted pipe-spew and sighed heavily.
"This night should be over."
Still wearing a sports bra and jeans, she opened the bathroom door, crossed the hall and came to stand in front of her mom's... in front Willow and Tara's bedroom door. Her knuckles hovered, for just a moment, level to her face before tapping lightly.
Willow swung the door open to reveal her scantly clad friend.
"Hey Buff," She said, trying to hide her surprise. "You okay? I mean, you need anything?"
Willow's brain jumped ahead of her:
"No... Just wanted to talk," Buffy replied making eye contact. "I've obviously had a lot on my mind lately and, I guess I could just use some support. Of the best-friendly variety. Can I come sit with you...like old times...?"
Willow felt a small, hopeful smile creeping to the corners of her mouth...
"Shower's broken."
And it faded.
"Must be something with the plumbing," Buffy said. "Is… is yours okay?"
"Uh, yeah." Willow moved aside to usher Buffy in and headed straight for the bathroom.
"I mean, last I checked. Which was tonight."
She leaned over the tub to test first the spigot and then the showerhead.
"All clear in here." She looked back at Buffy and was vaguely reminded of the times her dad used to indulge her by checking the bed and the closet for monsters. Imaginary ones, of course.
"Well, do you mind if I...?
"No! I mean, yes, of course, go ahead." Her arm reached out for the wall rack and Willow pushed Buffy's automatic recoil to the back corner of her brain. She'd been keeping a lot of things there lately and it was starting to get a little cramped.
"This towel is clean. And, um, ya' know, use whatever you want…obviously. I'll just be outside."
"Thanks."
She looked so tired.
"Yeah." Willow closed the door to the bathroom and sat at the edge of her bed. There was another knock, this one slightly more clumsy sounding and with considerable clinking, and she moved to get the door.
"Hey Baby..." Tara held the handle of a small metal teapot in one hand and two mugs in the other.
"Tea."
"Great." Willow, replied genuinely. As Tara moved to arrange the tea set on the dresser, Willow came up from behind and wrapped her arms around her girlfriend's middle.
"Mmmm... Smells like yummy casting."
Tara smiled and placed a hand over the one just below her breast.
"Is there someone in the bathroom?" she asked as she turned at the sound of the water coming on.
"It's Buffy. Something's wrong with that shower again. I'll have Xander come by tomorrow."
"Oh."
Tara leaned back into her as she poured for the both of them.
"It should cool for a minute."
"Kay," Willow whispered into her shoulder before placing a soft, moist kiss there.
"I'm just gonna go brush my teeth."
She untwined herself and headed back to the bathroom.
"Buffy...?" She opened the door just a crack at first.
"It's me. I'm gonna brush."
She stepped into the steamy bathroom, maneuvering around Buffy's crumpled cloths, and got out her toothbrush. In the past, Willow might have made small talk from the other side of the curtain, but now she went about her business quietly so as not to distract her- Buffy was so easily distractible these days. Not that Willow could really think of much to say anyway...
The sound of Willow's meticulous brushing slowly came to a halt as she reached out and picked up the ring sitting just beside the bar of soap.
~*FLASH*~ (back)
"Oh my god, Buffy! How romantically epic!" The two girls practically bounced through the archways of the Sunnydale quad through a sea of students on their way to class.
" It's like a symbol of the primal, predestined bond between watcher and slayer, and, and you guys just, like, reached a new level or something! It's like the councils way of sayin' "Put a ring on it!"… Only, you know, more British. A…and not, like, in the married way 'cuz, well, it's Giles, but, I think it's really sweet!"
"Me too." Buffy smiled at the Willow-y rambling. "Course, I had to convince Giles of that."
Willow only frowned, confused.
"He didn't exactly make with the squealing," Buffy offered. "Actually seemed a sorta' wigged, but I didn't ask. I think there were layers." She shrugged and then grinned. " Anyways, he came around…"
Willow heard the water shut off beside her and quickly rinsed, placing the ring exactly as she had found it and slipping out before Buffy could finish ringing out her hair.
Later that night, As Tara tried to spoon Willow into sleep, the redhead turned to face her girlfriend.
"Buffy visited her grave tonight."
"What?" Tara propped herself up on one elbow.
"Will, how do you…?"
"She found Giles' ring. The one we used for the spell. She brought it back with her."
"Oh…" Tara said, lowering herself back down to her pillow as realization dawned.
"She doesn't know I saw it."
"Oh."
All of Tara's concerns played across her face- not the least of which being the mystical implications of removing such an object from the site of it's casting- but when she looked back up into her lover's eyes she was met with the plain, worried expression of a girl for her best friend.
"Oh, Will, she'll be okay."
Willow responded with a look of both intense doubt and the eagerness to quell it.
"Honey, maybe she just needed to go back there, you know, to see. To… to get some closure."
"Closure?" Willow repeated. "Like, the kind that helps you move-on?"
Tara nodded.
"Well, that's helpful." Her tone was more excited, if not a little desperate. "Maybe now it'll be easier for her, like, more real- That she's really home now, really safe."
Tara snuggled in closer to offer more soothing words.
"You know, they say there are all these steps that a person has to go through when you loose someone." She said. "And then, I think it's fair to tack on a few extra when you actually loose yourself…"
Willow gave a sad little smile.
"So, I think what we have to remember is that, it would be weird if it didn't take a while. Maybe worse. Time is healthy, Sweetie. Time is good."
They kissed and Willow hummed with relief before looking back into her girlfriend's eyes.
"How do you do that?" Willow asked with wonder and love. "Make everything okay again?" A mischievous grin pulled at the corner of Tara's full lips.
"M..." Tara began but was stopped by Willow's finger at her lips.
"No, wait," she interrupted, "Don't tell me…" And she kissed her again, this time, for a while.
"Mmm… speaking of which…" Tara reached over Willow's shoulder to turn off her reading lamp. On the way back down, she stopped to nuzzle her ear and whispered,
"See you in dreamland…"
...
"Do you trust me?"
Buffy's eyes were closed but her senses were honed to take in the vibrational currents and waves that were circulating throughout the room. Every breath was loud and slow. She followed him with acute awareness as he moved to stand behind her.
"Completely," she replied assuredly, the words more ritualistic as she confirmed what both already knew to be true.
He stepped back a few feet and paused until all else was quiet to her except the enveloping sound of her breath and his. The stillness was deafening.
"Jump" he instructed.
Without a moment's hesitation, she gave into gravity and leaned back into a freefall that made her stomach turn over. Falling, falling, she continued until her logical mind told her she had passed the expected threshold from her distance to the ground. Still, she kept her eyes shut, giving up every muscle's impulse to brace herself against a fast, hard landing. Moments stretched by like minutes, until she felt it- strong hands behind her shoulders, lowering with the momentum of her downward motion. She heard the scraping of earth as he shifted his weight and brought her to rest completely on the ground. It was cold against her back and she could smell fresh dirt all around- close on all sides and stretching six feet up. She knew where she was.
Her senses adjusted to take in the scent of Giles' warm breath close to her own as he suddenly hovered, almost weightless, above her.
"I thought I told you to jump."
"I did," she replied. Her eyes remained closed.
"Then why are you still here?" he continued, patient yet testing.
She paused for a moment in meditative thought.
"Because you're holding me down," she replied. And suddenly his weight was very much upon her, tangibly pinning her to the ground beneath them.
She abruptly opened her eyes to meet his genuinely questioning gaze and spoke again in a moment that felt like revelation.
"You're the reason I'm alive."
Buffy awoke with a start and it took her a second to realize she was holding her breath. She exhaled forcefully and brought her hand to her chest as it rose and fell in a panting rhythm.
Her first instinct was to reach for the phone at her bedside and press the speed dial that would put her through to her watcher. She had been dreaming vividly the past few nights but what she had just experienced left her with the same weighted feeling of importance as some of her previous, more prophetic manifestations.
Oddly, it was the realization that it was very late which hit her first, and his obviously inevitable absence on the other end, second. But, as she returned to herself and her present surroundings, it was another realization altogether, which touched something deep in Buffy. She had had an instinctual connection to something of her former life; something other than her previously sustained bliss, which suddenly inspired longing and comfort. And she had something to look forward to- Tomorrow, he'd be coming home.
She turned over on her side facing the window and it wasn't long until some small shred of relief followed her into a deeper slumber
*A bit slow, I know, but not to fear- Plenty of our favorite fellow in the next installment.
