A/N: Wow, even though I'd seen the spoilers more than a month before the airing of the finale, I was still shocked. It's all just beginning to sink in. BtVS is over. Any re-appearances of the characters we have grown to know and love will be on AtS or future spin-offs/movies.
And knowing JM will appear on AtS next season does not make it better.
"She's kind of, um...she's been through a lot...with the...death. But I think she's okay."
The teen glanced back and forth between the two adults. Who were currently standing like statues, staring at each other, not paying her the slightest heed. Not even blinking.
Dawn cleared her throat.
She watched her sister suddenly blush and continue to button her blouse. She took that opportunity to look at the vampire and clear her throat again.
Is it just me, or is he a little too interested in her blouse? Especially the part that's being buttoned?
"Spike? Are you okay?"
He finally broke eye contact with the older and much more gorgeous sister to spare a glance at Dawn.
"I'm...what did you do?"
Of course it would be my fault. Whenever something's weird, just go blame Dawn, why don't you?
"Me? Nothing." She tried to keep the defensiveness out of her voice.
Another pause.
Great. Back to the staring. People, I'm in the room here!
"Her hands."
Dawn glanced back at her sister, who was busy looking at the patterned carpet and now had her hands behind her back. Her bloody, mangled hands…
"Um, I was gonna fix 'em. I don't know how they got like that," the teen said hurriedly.
"I do. Clawed her way out of a coffin, that's how. Isn't that right?"
Amazing how they could hold a conversation while one of the participants was staring at the other's older and hotter sister the entire time.
Do vampires need to blink?
"Yeah. That's...what I had to do," the Slayer whispered, still finding the carpet rather interesting.
"Done it myself."
Dawn rolled her eyes. They could at least acknowledge her existence. Maybe look at her once in a while or, God forbid, actually include her in their little conversation. Or at least go get some privacy.
It was like Spike read her thoughts.
"Um...we'll take care of you. Come here."
He guided Buffy into the living room. The Slayer never looked back.
"Get some stuff, uh…Mercurochrome, bandages."
"Okay."
The teen walked away from the living room, toward the first-aid kit stashed in the kitchen of all places.
Sure, she was worried about her sister. Who wouldn't be? Buffy had just returned from the dead. Clawed her way out of her coffin, apparently. But Dawn could also feel the stirrings of green-eyed jealousy. For the first time in months, all the attention was on Buffy. No one was fretting over her and making sure she went to bed at 11, brushed her teeth, did her homework, et cetera.
It was all about Buffy.
The teen smiled. This she could get used to.
***
She let herself be seated upon the sofa. The sofa where her mother had died. The sofa that Xander had used as a temporary bed the past year—only that hadn't happened yet. Dawn's briefly paralyzed body had not been posed on that same sofa, a remote control stuck in her hand.
Why was she thinking about such random, mundane things anyway?
Maybe it was because she still couldn't quite grasp the concept of Now. Oh, she'd accepted the reality that she was suddenly in a body two years younger than she last remembered, that this body had just dug itself out of a coffin six feet under. And as for her friends tearing her out of heaven? She'd had two years to get over that.
What she couldn't quite grasp was that he was sitting across from her. Granted, he was sitting on her mother's favorite old coffee table, probably crushing what appeared to be old issues of Dawn's magazines…
Not the point. He could burn down the house for all she cared. Well, in a matter of speaking. Not literally burn it down, 'cause then there'd be no place to live. But she might actually get some money from the insurance company if he could make it look like an accident…
What the hell am I thinking? Am I doped?
Jeez, Buffy, get a hold of yourself. You've just gotten a chance to fix everything. Now's not the time to drift off into insanity.
Slowly, very slowly, she looked up. Right into electric blue eyes.
She could feel her grasp on reality start to slip.
Now's not the time to start drowning again, she chided herself. You've got a job to do.
The Slayer focused once again. Unfortunately, the source of all that intense focusing was his face, with all its shadows and sharp angles, with the hard yet so very soft lips…and the still-bleached hair, which couldn't possibly be easy on the roots and scalp, the…
The cool skin. Of his hands. Which were holding hers.
She tried not to yelp, or worse yet, collapse onto him and turn into a sobbing mess. She'd been in a kind of suspended state of numbness for the past…ever since the First had been defeated. Just kind of…dead…inside.
One touch. That's all that was necessary to send me back over the edge. Does that say something about me?
She cleared her throat. Couldn't just stare at each other all night. But the hand-holding was nice…
She was the Slayer. Meaning that she had to pull herself out of it and start a conversation.
"How long was I gone?"
"Hundred forty-seven days yesterday. Uh...hundred forty-eight today," he replied immediately. Then he smiled slightly, making her truly want to melt. "'Cept today doesn't count, does it?"
She ducked her head again, almost bashfully. Funny how she'd done things with this man before her that she didn't even know the name for, yet still could be so shy about such simple things…
"How long was it for you...where you were?"
Let's see. How long has it been since I jumped from that tower?
How long since I've alienated my friends, slept with soulless vampires? How long since my sister has hated me, since I've been trying to pull together enough money to support said kleptomaniac sibling? How long since my mentor-slash-father figure decided I should start acting like an adult and virtually abandoned me, since my best friend tried to end the world?
How long since the root of all evil began hunting down innocent girls all around the world with its eye-less minions? How long since I've watched my friends age way too quickly, since a whole slew of inexperienced teenage girls were tossed into my house, my life?
How long since I've hidden and denied my emotions, since you've gotten your soul for me? How long since I've watched you burn…
This she could answer honestly. "Longer."
Much, much longer.
The younger sister reappeared from the kitchen carrying medical supplies.
"Got the stuff," she announced in an attempt to sound chipper.
Then the ex-key's eyes trailed to their still-entwined hands. And when he loosened his grip to pull away, the Slayer held tight. For a moment she swore she could feel flames dancing around their interlaced fingers.
No more hiding. No more shame.
So what was there, aside from an awkward lack of conversation?
My friends! Those biker demons are still loose!
She jerked her hands away from the vampire and scrambled up.
"Oh crap! The others, they're still out there, and…and there's some kind of biker gang? Demon bikers or something. I have to go help them!"
The Slayer was yanked back down to the couch before she could take a step in the direction of the door. The angry retort died on her lips when she looked up.
Not even the Slayer could stay annoyed with those concerned blue eyes.
"I have to help them," she said a bit more calmly.
He shook his head and stood up. "Not a chance, Slayer. You need to stay put, have a nice little nap. I'll go find your friends. Make sure they're nice and comfy, all that. Don't you worry about it."
Before she could protest, he was already halfway to the exit.
He paused in the doorway and turned back.
"Nibblet, take care of her hands, will you?"
And then he was gone.
***
The Slayer lay awake, staring off into the darkness.
Once again, she couldn't sleep. It wasn't that she was worried about her friends, or even Spike. She knew they could take care of themselves…this time around, at least.
It was the next day she was worried about. The next and the next and the next. For one, there were going to be questions.
Could she answer honestly? Never. They could never know that she was here because of an innate wish resulting from the pain and suffering of years to come. She was going to fix it all, so that none of it will actually have happened.
But she knew with a certainty deep in her gut that the First would rise again.
As long as I'm alive, as long as there are two Slayers…
It was just a matter of time. The important thing was that she knew what to watch out for; she knew how to stop it. And as long as Andrew didn't open the seal, there was no way that all those Ubervamps could come out…unless someone else decided to kill their best friend with a random knife some Mexican weapons dealer carried.
But she could make sure no one ever dug up the seal. She could warn Xander about the commissioning of the High School. She could ask Willow to track down Caleb, put an end to him before…
She beat it once. She could do it again.
Right?
This time, no opening of the seal. Okay, got it. No climbing down to freaky subterranean lairs filled with prehistoric vampires, check.
And if Angel came around again, she was going to wallop him upside the head for leaving out a few minor details about that stupid amulet. But she didn't really have to worry about that. After all, she was going to nip the problem in the bud, before it had a chance to…
Buffy smiled. She'd finally figured out why she was sent here. This had been the absolute worst time of her life, even worse than the constant fear and anxiety of the times with Glory and the First. Because of her banishment from heaven, she'd become cold and dark and dead on the inside. She'd alienated her friends and family and wished for eternal rest. That's when she'd started to use him, because he could relate and give her physical pleasure that made her feel whole for the instant it lasted.
Although she had to admit, those "instants" were pretty long and drawn-out.
Worse, knowing that someone worshipped and loved her no matter what she did also gave her a temporary rise, filling up the void within.
Sad, when everything had been so promising the spring prior. Not the deaths or hell-god-trying-to-kill-little-sister-and-destroy-world episode. What had flourished that spring were the emotional relationships she had developed, with her friends and family. She had really connected with Dawn during that chaotic time. They'd grown closer during their mother's illness and later death, and during the discovery of Dawn's origin. She'd attended parties and hung out with her friends. Even if the parties mostly consisted of research and doughnuts.
It was something the Slayer still missed. Something between them had been irreparably damaged when she came back from the grave. Well, it was all going to be better now.
She'd make sure Willow didn't get herself too deep in magick. She'd try and get Xander and Anya to talk out their tensions so that it didn't all explode on their wedding day. She'd show Giles just how much she needed him, despite her supposed maturity. She'd ask for help when she needed it.
And she'd sort things out with Spike first, before she decided to jump his bones. That spring, after finding out about his little crush, she'd been disgusted. That was undeniable. But she'd also seen him change, seen him try to do what was right, for her. He'd protected her only family despite Glory's ministrations, even if they were brought on by that creepy sex-bot.
Last spring. That was when she'd started to think that maybe, just maybe, there could be something between them.
She'd trusted him. That trust had disappeared with her resurrection and had only been reinstated with the soul.
Stupid soul.
Well, he didn't have to get it this time around. He'd proved that he could be good for the sake of being good, and for her. Despite being soulless, he had a conscience. That's why he went to Africa in the first place, no?
And it was totally not chip-related.
Which reminded her. When Riley dropped by, she'd try to pull a few strings, maybe get the software out before its shelf life expired.
Hmm. So much to do, so little time.
Buffy cocked her head. There were footsteps coming up the stairs, careful, hesitant footsteps.
Her friends, no doubt. She could hear Willow's quick steps, Tara's soft ones, and Xander's clunky and slightly awkward ones accompanied by Anya's brisk paces.
Good. At least they're all back. And safe.
She was suddenly glad that she had locked her door.
***
He glanced up. The light was off, true, but she was still awake. He'd always known when she was awake.
The vampire took another long drag on his cigarette and let it fall to the ground, next to the other stubs lying there.
There were so many cigarette butts there, under what he had come to consider as his tree. They were mostly old, dating up to a year ago. It was a miracle they had not completely disintegrated into dust.
He patted his pockets and let his hands drop when he discovered that the pathetic little stub had been the last one. He should've picked up another pack tonight. But then again, his plans had been slightly disrupted.
She was back. How the bloody hell was she back?
He'd place his money on magick. The Scoobies, they had to know something. Why else would Red have looked so uncomfortable when he'd told them the Slayer was back? Why else would she have looked so…guilty?
The vampire felt an alien moisture gathering in his eyes, spilling onto his cheeks, and hastily wiped it away. Probably from the cigarette smoke still lingering in the air.
Of course, he ignored the fact that the undead were not affected by pollutants like smoke.
Whatever the case was, Red definitely knew about it. Probably knew all about the consequences, too. Because that's the thing about magick. There were always consequences.
He closed his eyes and leaned against the trunk. The unnatural moisture was gathering again.
Drat that cigarette smoke.
***
The door closed. The young couple strode out, stepping lightly down the porch steps.
"I think Willow's wrong. I don't think she's particularly normal at all," the young blonde woman declared pragmatically.
"Well, she just got back. Give it time. I bet in a week she'll be our little Bufferin' again."
"Oh yes, 'cause six or seven days, that's all you really need to get over eternal hell experiences."
The young man paused, about to remark, and swung his head left, peering off into the darkness.
"Who's that? Spike?" He moved cautiously over to the shadows by the tree. "What are you doing out here? I hope you're not going to start your little obsession now that she's around again."
Without warning, the vampire grabbed the boy and slammed him against the tree trunk.
"Hey!" the girl yelled, annoyed that her orgasm partner might be damaged and temporarily unable to perform his duties.
"You didn't tell me. You brought her back and you didn't tell me."
The girl frowned. Spike was acting and speaking funny. He sounded like he had a cold. But in over a thousand years of experience, she had thought that vampires didn't catch colds, or any other human illnesses, for that matter.
"Well, now you know," the boy managed to say, twisting to get away. It didn't work.
"I worked beside you all summer."
"We didn't tell you. It was just...we didn't, okay?" The boy was getting nervous.
"Listen. I've figured it out."
The girl became slightly nervous herself. Spike was beginning to sound downright irrational. And that could mean that Xander wouldn't be able to be of service for many days and nights to come.
The vampire let the boy down, but didn't stop shooting daggers at him.
"Maybe you haven't, but I have."
Yep. Definitely crazy, this one. Anya imperceptibly slid closer to her significant other. The smart thing would be to nod and smile, then slip off before the vampire went totally bonkers. He was already maniacally jabbing in the direction of the house. A sure sign of impending insanity.
"Willow knew there was a chance that she'd come back wrong. So wrong that you'd have...that she would have to get rid of what came back. And I wouldn't let her. If any part of that was Buffy, I wouldn't let her. And that's why she shut me out."
Anya noted that the longer Spike ranted, the more hysterical he became. She tightened her grip on Xander's arm, praying to the Elder Gods that he'd have sense enough to keep his mouth shut.
"What are you talking about? Willow wouldn't do that."
She groaned.
"Oh. Is that right."
Uh-oh. The sarcastic tone. That was always bad. When she'd been evil, she'd always used that tone before she made her victims rue the day they were born. But she'd never shed tears in front of those she prepared to maim and mangle. Maybe that was a chipped vampire thing.
"Look. You're just covering. Don't tell me you're not happy. Look me in the eyes, and tell me when you saw Buffy alive, that wasn't the happiest moment of your entire existence."
Anya wanted to slap him silly.
Idiot! Xander, even though you're pretty good in bed and have nicely shaped upper arms, you can be awfully dense sometimes. Even I can tell that Spike's anything but happy.
Well, it was nice knowing you. Too bad we didn't get to announce our engagement.
Xander was going to get it now. And maybe he deserved it, just a bit.
Anya squeezed her eyes shut, expecting to hear...well, she wasn't sure what she expected, but it wasn't the sound of boots stomping away.
"That's the thing about magic. There's always consequences."
She opened her eyes in time to see the dark figure climb onto a motorcycle parked in front of the house, on the street. It roared to life.
"Always!" With that the vehicle and rider disappeared from view.
Anya expelled a breath she hadn't known she was retaining and let herself relax.
"Hmm. What's his deal?" the boy commented.
She kicked him in the shins.
TBC