Title: A Measure of Happiness
Author: Valerie
Disclaimer: All characters owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, etc. I own nothing.
Summary: More post-Giftage. If you can wade through yet another Buffy resurrection, I promise there's some B/S sex a comin'!
Rating: R for adult concepts, language and semi-descriptive sex.
Spoilers: Through the end of Season 5.
Feedback: Yes please!
Distribution: Sure.
Chapter 2: The Resurrection
She lay on the ground like a vision or a fantasy. Her hair was splayed out on the ground below her. Her skin was pink and unblemished. And her clothes were nonexistent.
For several seconds, her name hung in the air. Then Dawn dropped to her knees by the body, frantically feeling for a pulse and touching the face, assuring herself that it wasn't a mirage. "There's a pulse and she's warm... and she's breathing... Oh, God. Oh, Buffy." She turned to Spike, tears in her eyes. "Is it her? Is she real?"
It took a couple of tries before Spike could get sounds to come out of his mouth. "I don't know. We have to be careful; even if it is her she might not be... right. And this could be a trick, a ... simulacrum of some kind."
At that point, a sharp intake of breath brought their eyes back to the woman on the ground. Her eyes were open, staring wildly at the sky above her.
"Buffy, can you hear me? Buffy?" Dawn cried. The woman who looked like her lost sister looked into Dawn's eyes.
"Dawn?" came a cautious, slightly raspy voice that was still unmistakably Buffy's.
Dawn collapsed on her sister, crying and praying and thanking every power that ever existed. Spike could only watch in awe, in fear that if he moved or spoke he would shatter into a million pieces.
Buffy seemed to come more to herself, bringing her arms up to cradle her sister and trying to sit up. "Dawnie, what is it? What's wrong? Where – what happened? Where are we?" She then seemed to notice her own body for the first time. "And where are my clothes?" she asked a little indignantly.
Spike sprang to action at that point, whipping off his leather coat and offering it to the woman as cover. Which she accepted, her eyes wary. "Spike? What's going on?"
How does one answer a question like that? Well, you see, you died four months ago, and now you have appeared mysteriously in a bring flashing light. "What do you remember, luv?"
Buffy thought for a moment as she dislodged Dawn enough to put on the coat. "Fighting Glory. I went up the tower, and Dawn was up there. I cut her bonds, and tried to get her down, but it was too late. The portal was open. I realized that I could close the portal with my blood. I said goodbye to Dawn. I jumped. I was surrounded by white light. It was painful. Then ... then I heard Dawn's voice and I opened my eyes and here I was. I'm surprised to be alive, to be honest."
"You weren't," Spike choked out. Buffy's retelling had taken him back to that night, a place of nightmares for him that he tried desperately not to remember.
"What?"
"You were dead, pet."
"What do you mean dead? Like, someone revived me, did CPR or something?"
"No, like as far as we knew a moment ago, your body was six feet under the bloody ground right here," Spike said. "Look." He indicated the tombstone behind her.
Buffy turned, then crawled over to the stone. She knelt before it for a long time, staring at the words.
"Buffy?" Dawn prodded.
"'She saved the world a lot'?"
"That was Xander's idea," Dawn explained.
Buffy turned around, tears in her eyes. "How can this be?"
Spike went to her, helping her to her feet. "We don't know. Why don't we get you inside somewhere safe and we'll get the Scoobies together and we'll figure this one out, OK, pet?"
They headed out of the cemetery, supporting Buffy on unsteady legs between them. "Where should we go?" Dawn asked.
"You still got a key to the old house?" Spike asked.
"Yep."
"There then."
Buffy looked from one to the other of them. "The old house?"
"Your house, luv. It's been shut up since you… "
Buffy stopped walking. "How long?"
"Buffy, let's just – "
"How long?"
Spike sighed. "Four months."
"Four months? I've been dead for four months?"
Spike looked at the ground and nodded. After a few seconds, Buffy again allowed herself to be led in the direction of her house.
Buffy looked at Dawn. "So where have you been living?"
"Well," Dawn looked guiltily at Spike. "In theory I'm living with Dad in L.A. But, I don't actually spend the night there very often. Dad travels a lot, or spends the night with his girlfriend. So I stay here. With Willow sometimes, or with Xander and Anya, or … with Spike."
"Not in the crypt," Buffy groaned.
"Yeah. It's kind of like camping out, you know? Besides, I feel safe there," Dawn said defiantly.
"If you cared so much about being safe, why are you following me on patrol?" Spike asked her in a chastising, fatherly voice.
Dawn rolled her eyes. Buffy looked questioningly at Spike. "Patrol?"
Spike got that look on his face that indicated he had again been caught wearing the proverbial white hat. "Well, somebody has to keep the Hellmouth safe for your li'l sis. Between me and Red, we do a pretty good job of it."
"Willow patrols?"
"Oh, you should see her, Buffy," Dawn gushed. "She can stake a vampire from about 40 feet away just by flinging a stake with her mind. It is so cool."
"Really." Buffy thought about that while they walked the rest of the way in silence.
They entered the stuffy, dusty house and Spike flipped on the lights. "Least no one thought to turn off the power."
"Your room is pretty much the way you left it, Buffy, so if you want some clothes …" Dawn said, glancing at Buffy in the leather coat.
Buffy looked down at herself. "Right. Clothes would be good." She walked slowly up the stairs, supporting herself with the banister. Dawn and Spike stood and watched her ascend.
When she had gone, Spike made his way over to the living room couch and slowly sat, putting his face in his hands. Dawn watched as he finally lost control of his emotions, his shoulders shaking. Tears in her own eyes, she ran and put her arms around him. Neither spoke for a minute.
Finally Spike looked up, shakily wiping his face and running his fingers through his hair. "We should call the others."
"Yeah." Dawn pulled the cell phone her father had gotten her out of her pocket and began punching numbers. "Tara? It's Dawn. Um, I don't know quite how to say this, but…"