Author's Notes: Set four years after 'Becoming' part two. Buffy ran away, and didn't come back. Now, four years later, she's about to be reminded of who and what she really is.

Rating: PG-13. Language and strong themes. Sorry, kiddies.

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise is mine. Don't sue, please.

Feedback: Very welcome. Constructive criticism is welcome; flames will be used to help me toast marshmallows.

Chapter Notes: Sorry for the slight delay. Pain is not of the good. Stupid doctors. Hate 'em all. Mostly. Some are good. Enjoy the chapter.

Chapter Eleven: Reappearance

"So you can do it? Reopen the portal and bring them back?"

Ethan sighed, not even bothering to look at Xander. "I can. Opening the portal is not the problem, it's finding Annie and Dawn once I've done so."

"Wouldn't they be waiting? I mean, they know we're gonna get them out of there...right?" Willow queried.

"It's not nearly that simple," Max said softly. They were among his first words since Buffy had disappeared. "They'll be slaves. It'll already have been years, if not decades. Annie will be changed. She may not even remember me. Dawn may remember you, but she will be very changed also. There'll be scars, both physical and mental. Dawn will have the dependency on Rakeshia blood, just like the rest of us." He returned to silence, still staring off into space.

"And they may have been moved around," Ethan continued for him. "I'll be able to open the portal fairly close to Annie, as I know her magickal signature, but she may have been separated from Dawn."

"If Dawn's hurt, I'll –"

Ethan cut Spike off with a disparaging look. "Annie's the Slayer. She'd never let harm come to anyone, let alone someone related to her, however tenuously." He rubbed his chin. He needed a shave. "Well, if we're going to do this, we'd better get started." He looked appraisingly over the ragtag group. "I think I'll need some help on this one, to keep it open from this side. Hopefully I won't need to have it open very long, but I'm...not what I used to be, I'm afraid. Ripper, will you oblige?" The Watcher nodded silently. "Good. And Willow. Powerful magicks, you're controlling. You'll help?"

"Of course," Willow murmured. She expected him to ask Tara next, but his gaze travelled over the blonde towards Max.

"Max, I have no right to ask this of you..."

"I'll help," Max said quietly. "Whatever it takes to get Annie out of that place, I'll help."

Ethan nodded. "Right. Willow, we'll need twelve black candles, two handfuls of sage, and a large bowl. Would you be so kind?" The redhead rose and went to fetch the necessary supplies. "Everyone else, keep out of the way," he instructed. "This is dangerous stuff. Don't want to send you in there as we're pulling Annie and Dawn out, now do we?" He flashed a smirk that lacked the usual emotion.

Willow returned with the candles, and she set them out as instructed. Ethan quickly lay out the spell, making them all recite their lines until he was satisfied. Then the four spell casters sat in the middle of the circle formed by the candles, bowl (holding the crushed sage) in front of Ethan. Ethan produced a penknife.

"Blood of my blood," he intoned. "Power of my power. By the gracious North, I offer." He slid the blade across his palm and let his blood drip into the bowl. He passed both to Giles.

"Blood of my blood," the Watcher repeated. "Power of my power. By the all-knowing East, I conjure." He cut his palm and bled into the bowl before passing knife and bowl to Willow.

"Blood of my blood, power of my power," the redhead said, voice filled with strength. "By the prevailing South, I command." More blood, and the bowl and knife were handed on to Max.

"Blood of my blood, power of my power, by the vengeful West, I decree." Max allowed his blood to drip into the bowl. Ethan started chanting in Latin, and Willow shielded her eyes as bright, swirling energy engulfed them. A scream was ripped from Max's throat, soon joined by screams from the otherthree as the portal opened, tearing power from the four that they could ill afford to lose.

Then three figures came hurtling out of the portal, and the energy dissipated.

"Get it!" one of the figures shouted. The other swung a huge pick and embedded the metal into the skull of the third, a demon. "Wahoo! You go, girl!"

"Annie?"

The two women who had just come out of the portal stood back to back, turning in a circle to survey the whole room. The one who appeared older was the first to realise it.

"By Haghd," she breathed. "We're home."

The other – younger and shorter – stared around in confusion. "What – I don't – "

"Dawn?" Spike stepped forward, staring. "Niblet, is that you?"

Dawn broke out of the circle, knocking over several candles as she did so, and flung her arms around him. "Spike! I've missed you so much!"

"How long was it, Annie?" Ethan demanded, rising and catching the other girl in his arms. She stared at him for a moment, then recognition hit her and a tear slid down her cheek.

"Am I really back?" she asked in a whisper. "I didn't think I'd ever get out again." She looked around at everyone, eyes lingering on Max and Spike. "Ten years," she said quietly. "It was ten years."

Dawn nodded. Her hair was short – cropped to about an inch in length. "Yup. I'm all grown up, now."

"All grown up and trying to take on a Rakeshia demon by yourself," Buffy nodded. "Great, Dawnie, really great." She grunted as pain hit her, and she curled over slightly. Dawn rushed to her side.

"Are you alright?" she demanded. "Is the baby...?"

"Baby's fine," Buffy assured her with a smile. "Don't worry." She straightened up. "By Haghd, this is..." Memories rushed into her head. "I have a daughter...Hattie, is she alright? She's...three?"

"Yes," Max nodded, coming close to her. "Annie, do you remember me?"

She nodded. "Max. Second." She looked around the room, naming the people she saw. "Xander. Willow. Sarah. Giles. Angel. Tara? Anya?" The two women nodded. Her gaze turned to Spike. "And Spike. I remember you. Dawn didn't stop talking about you for two years straight." She frowned. "Isn't there someone else? Have I forgotten someone?"

"There was a slayer, wasn't there?" Dawn grimaced. "Ask me to name units Grishnagh, Sultsya and Mervya, and I can do it – remember someone from ten years ago? Forget it."

"Faith," Ethan nodded. "She's patrolling. What else do you two remember?"

"How come Buffy doesn't look any older?" Xander demanded bluntly. "Dawn's all grown up – and hey, she's older than me, now! But Buffy hasn't changed a bit." He looked her over. "Well, a little. You're skinnier."

"And they call me tactless," Anya muttered.

"She's been on half rations," Dawn nodded. "Because of the riot." She sent her sister a glare. "Which you shouldn't have been participating in anyhow, you idiot. You're pregnant. Think of the baby."

"I am," Buffy said firmly. "But it had to be..." She trailed off, sickened. "Oh gods. They'll all be dead or dying, now." She paled. "I think I'm going to be sick." She ran out of the back door into the cool night air and threw up behind a dumpster.

It was Spike's cool hands that held her long hair back. Spike's hand that rubbed her back soothingly. Spike that held her as her frame was wracked with sobs for the people she had, once again, left to die as slaves.

And she didn't question why.

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Coming next chapter:

Dawn talks about Phtygiktha.

Buffy and Spike talk.