DISCLAIMER: Whedon's characters, any recognizable dialogue, and the canon events of their storyline are not mine.
A/N:
This chapter roughly corresponds to episodes #6.3 "After Life" and #6.4 "Flooded." You will notice some intentional omissions. However, you will get to see a conversation (well, my version, anyway) that was only mentioned in the series, but not actually shown.
CHAPTER 10
Back to Life ...
Hearing Dawn's voice saying those words made him hope beyond hope. His unbeating heart felt like it was racing as he turned the knob and opened the door to hallway. As he crossed threshold and looked down the hall to the front door, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Dawn turned to face Spike. "Looks like she's been through a lot, but I think she's okay." She paused, then asked, "Spike, are you okay?"
"What did you do?" He thought he had prepared himself for this moment, but then again, he thought he had prepared himself for her death and the funeral. Why would he think this moment would be any less shocking?
"Me? Nothing," Dawn replied defensively.
Finally, he tore his eyes away from Buffy's face and looked her over, head to toe. When he saw her knuckles, dread hit him harder than Glory's right cross. "Her hands."
"I don't know how they got like that."
"I do. Clawed her way out of her coffin that's how." Softening his tone, he asked Buffy, "Isn't that right?"
Buffy's eyes – her whole demeanor, really – had the look of a scared animal. "Yeah, that's what I had to do."
"Done it myself. We'll take care of you." Whatever tenderness and compassion remained from his years as a human came to the surface and took over his being now. To Dawn, he quickly gave directions, "Get some stuff – mercurochrome, bandages."
"Okay," Dawn said, as she went to get the first aid kit.
Buffy's voice so low, it was nearly inaudible, "How long was I gone?"
"147 days yesterday. Um, 148 today. Except today doesn't count. Does it?" Tilting his head so that he could see her eyes, which were nearly hidden by the hair falling in front of her face, he continued gently, "How long was it for you … where you were?"
"Longer."
Future-Buffy had told him that she had returned to harsh and violent circumstances and instructed him to do all he could to make sure that she had the space to quietly sort things out. Seeing this Buffy before him, he had a better idea of why that was important, but felt unsure of how to proceed.
He led her up the stairs, trying not the think of the time he had spent sitting there a few months ago. They went into the bathroom. Buffy sat down on the toilet lid and Spike knelt before her, examining her hands. It took every ounce of strength he had not to weep for what she had just been through. When he had clawed his way out of the ground, he did not need air to survive. How horrific would it be for a human to find themselves in unfamiliar surroundings with the urgent need for oxygen? Blood may be life, but only the living breathe.
Dawn rejoined them with supplies. While Spike worked on her hands, Dawn had begun to clean the dirt from Buffy's face and neck. Soon, she realized it was a much larger task and started running water for a bath. She turned to Spike and Buffy, "I'm going to go get some towels and a change of clothes."
Buffy kept glancing between her hands and Spike's face. For the most part, he was engrossed in the task of caring for her wounds, but every once in a while, he would look up to find her gazing back at him.
When Dawn returned, Spike said, "I'll make sure that your hands and wrists are good and clean. After I bandage them, we'll put plastic over to keep them from getting wet. Dawn will have to help you wash your hair and such."
Once he was finished, he turned to leave. "I'll stay close by in case you need anything." He shut the door behind him. Leaned against the wall in the hallway, sliding down to the floor. He sat with his knees bent, arms wrapped in front of his shins, and rested his forehead on his knees. With great effort, he tried to keep back the flood of tears, but down they streamed.
After a while, he could hear the water draining from the tub and Dawn talking to Buffy as she helped her get dressed. Just then, he heard voices approaching the house. The front door burst open and the voices of Willow, Tara, Xander, and Anya could be heard as they made their way through the rooms of the main floor. Spike wiped his tears away and steeled himself while he tried to listen to their frantic conversation. He only caught snippets.
"Is she here?"
"She ran away."
"I found the Bot. It's in the kitchen."
"Okay, but where is she?"
Then, he heard footsteps on the stairs. He stood in order to block the doorway to the bathroom.
Willow asked, "Is she here?"
Spike did not respond verbally, but looked each of them in the eye sternly.
In quick succession Tara, Willow, and Xander asked:
"Is she okay?"
"Is she in pain?"
"What does she remember?"
"You knew she was back? How did you know?" Spike all but growled the words.
Behind him, the door opened. Dawn spoke from the doorway, "All of you, back off." Then, she pointed her remarks at Willow, "You did this. What did you do?"
Willow began her explanation, "We did a spell. We didn't think it worked. So, we started to leave the cemetery. I don't know … her return was delayed for some reason. Then, we saw her walking. We called to her, but she just looked at us strangely and started running."
Then, the flurry of questions began again, only this time directed at Buffy, who was now standing behind Dawn. They were offering food and anything they could think of that would make her feel better. In truth, they were trying to make themselves feel better.
Dawn took on a stern maternal voice, "Guys! Back off!"
"Right. Dawn's right. We should just be quiet and let Buffy tell us what she needs." Willow was a bundle of nervous energy at the moment.
Buffy's voice was soft by comparison, "I think I just wanna go to sleep."
"Right. Long day, but Buffy, be happy. We got you out. We really did it." The ginger-haired witch was more than a little excited about their success.
"Tired," Buffy said.
Then, Dawn walked Buffy to her room and closed the door.
As the door clicked, Xander started in on Spike. "What are you doin'? I hope you're not gonna start your little obsession now that she's around again."
"You didn't tell me. You brought her back and you didn't tell me."
Xander countered, "Well, now you know. We didn't tell you. It was just … we didn't. Okay?"
Again, thoughts were swirling around in Spike's brain. He had not really given much thought as to how she would come back. It made sense now … why she said he could not tell anyone – that it could change things. Part of him wanted to be angry that they had left him out of it. And he was also a bit worried about Willow doing this spell and what could have gone wrong. But future-Buffy had told him that she would return and that although she herself might think she had come back wrong, she would in fact be fine. So, he tried to swallow his raging emotions – knowing that the better course of action was in trying to maintain relationship with Buffy's inner circle.
Since Xander could not hear Spike's inner monologue, he was still reacting to Spike's earlier words and tone of voice. "Look, you're just covering. Don't tell me you're not happy. Look me in the eyes and tell me that when you saw Buffy alive that wasn't the happiest moment of your entire existence."
Before Spike could answer, Dawn stepped into the hall. "Spike, she asked to see you."
Willow's confusion was apparent in her voice as she said, "She doesn't want to see any of the rest of us?"
"She said to let her get some sleep. She'll field your questions in the morning." Gesturing to the door, Dawn said, "Spike?"
"Yeah, Bit. I'm comin'." As he separated from the group to walk down the hall, Spike was feeling self-conscious – in part, due to the looks they were giving him; in part, because he was not sure what he was about to walk into. Why had Buffy asked for him, of all people? Although it was completely unnecessary, he took a deep breath before pushing the door open.
Spike prepared himself for the possibility that she might be upset if she had overheard the words exchanged in the hall. "My apologies if our conversation was disturbing you." He looked at her sitting on the side of the bed, face lit only by the bedside lamp. He had never seen anything so beautiful.
She shook her head slightly in response and indicated that he should close the door. As he did so, he turned slightly away from her and gazed at the floor. If he were a praying man, he would have been asking for wisdom, strength, and the perfect words.
He began, "I do remember what I said. The promise. To protect her. If I'd have done that – even if I didn't make it – you wouldn't have had to jump. But I want you to know I did save you not when it counted, of course. But after that. Every night after that. I'd see it all again. I'd do something different. Faster. More clever, you know. Dozens of times. Lots of different ways. Every night ..." When she did not respond, he changed topic, "Buffy? ... Slayer? Are you okay?"
Attempting to shake herself from her stupor, "I'm here. I'm good."
"Buffy, if you're in pain ... or if you need anything ... or if I can do anything for you ..."
"I'm not sure what I need or want right now, except that I know I can't deal with their questions. But I also know that I don't want to be alone either." She was quiet for a moment while she looked thoughtfully at her bandaged hands. "Earlier, you let me just be quiet. I felt … comfortable with you. In case, you're wondering, I do remember … at the house, before we went to fight Glory … the conversation … and the kiss. I'm not ready to talk about that … and I don't want to give you mixed signals right now, but could you … stay here?"
"Sure." Looking at the chair next to her night stand, "That diabolical old torture device, the comfy chair. It'll do me fine." He took off his coat and settled down for an uncomfy night's repose.
The repose did not last long, maybe an hour. With no warning, Buffy sat straight up in bed and nearly began to hyperventilate.
Spike moved over to her bed immediately, sitting on the edge. "Are you alright? Was it a nightmare?"
She nodded yes.
"Would you like to talk about it? Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Not right now. Just stay with me." She saw him begin to move back to the chair. "No, I mean here." She patted the space on the mattress beside her. "Will you just hold me?"
After he settled into the pillow behind him, she nestled into his shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her. She was quiet for a long time, but his mind was racing: he remembered future-Buffy talking about a night when they had slept fully clothed, wrapped in each other's arms. She had said that her time travel might mean that night would not happen. The night that she had spoken about was supposed to happen about a year and a half from now. Maybe he would not get that one, but he would get this one. And she was right. This would rank as best night ever.
Just when he thought that she had fallen asleep, he heard her softly say, "I was happy."
"What do you mean? I thought you had a nightmare."
"No, not that. Wherever I was ... I was happy, at peace. I knew that everyone I cared about was alright ... and I was loved ... and I was finished, complete. I think I was in heaven. And now I'm not. I was torn out of there ... by my friends. This is Hell: just getting through the next moment, and the one after that ... knowing what I've lost ..." She lifted her head off his shoulder to look him in the eye. "They can never know. Never."
Future-Buffy had told him that she thought she had been in heaven, but present-Spike would not have that info until just this minute. He was not sure how to respond. "They won't hear it from me. I can promise you that." He paused and considered what to say next. "Your nightmare … was it about coming back to life in the coffin? Having to dig yourself out?"
With her head now back on his shoulder, she replied, "Yes, but also the time between that and getting back to the house. My vision was all blurry. I saw them – Willow, Xander, Anya, Tara, even the Buffy-bot – when I was still in the cemetery. I wasn't entirely sure where I was – you know, if it was real. As I ran, I saw enough landmarks that I knew it was Sunnydale, real or not. The streetlights were so strange looking on my way back to the house. I wasn't sure what was happening."
He was processing what she said, but also trying to remember what future-Buffy had said. Apparently, their efforts to keep her death a secret had worked, because in this timeline, she did not encounter a demon gang on her way home. "Just to be clear, you're talking about what actually happened. But that you also had a bad dream about it … that woke you up just now."
"Yes. It was scary to get pulled from a peaceful place back into reality – especially when reality looked so strange. But once I got back here and I saw that Dawn was okay … and the two of you were taking care of me without demanding anything …" She looked up at him again. "Thank you. For bandaging my hands. For knowing that I needed space tonight, even from my friends."
"Not a problem, luv. You know I'd do anything for you – including nothing at all, if that was what you wanted."
"For right now, this is enough."
Spike knew the moment she fell asleep, because he felt the full weight of her resting on him. She seemed to sleep peacefully – no jerky movements, no waking from nightmares. Eventually, he fell asleep, as well.
[
[
When he awoke, he knew he was not at his place, but it took a few moments to recognize the room. Then, he remembered the night before. However, Buffy was not in the bed. He rolled over to see that she was already dressed for the day and was presently brushing her hair into a ponytail.
"You're up early, luv."
"Yeah. Sorry. Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet."
Looking at the clock, he said, "Guess I should get moving as well. Figure they'll be barging through the door any minute."
"Oh yeah – the interrogation resumes."
"Well, that too. But no, I meant they would want to make sure that … I was a gentleman." His face lit up. "But then again, if they're interrogating me, they can't bother you. So just say the word, m'lady, and I will happily sacrifice myself for you."
She gave him the barest hint of a smile.
"Knew I could get a grin." He changed his tone. "On a more serious note – or at least more delicate matter – I was thinking about something Willow said last night in the hallway. She told you to be happy that they got you out. Taking into account what you said last night, well … I think that she was making the assumption you were in a hell dimension. She thinks – they think – that you are in a better place now than you were. Probably looks at it like they rescued you. If you don't want them to know where you were, and you don't want them to worry about you, you're probably going to need to … I don't know, thank them for bringing you back, act happy about being here. I know that might be tough to do … but you can always come dump the truth on me. I can handle it. Maybe even use me for a punching bag, if you need to."
She seemed to consider his words carefully. "You may be right. They won't let it go until I give them something." Looking at him, she added, "And you always did make a good punching bag."
"Glad to be of service." He picked up his duster from the chair and walked to the door, "Shall we go down for breakfast?" He turned the doorknob and looked out into the hall. "The coast appears to be clear. And it sounds like everyone's in the kitchen. If you want, I could go in before you and ask that they go easy on you."
"That sounds good."
As Spike walked into the kitchen, Xander said, "I didn't hear the front door. Are we to assume you spent the night in her room?"
"Not that it's really any of your business, but she asked me to sit with her. She woke up from a nightmare at one point. We talked a bit. She seemed to sleep well after that."
"Good. I know I always feel safer when I fall asleep and you're nearby." Dawn said. "Is she coming down?"
"Yes. She wanted me to request that you hold off on the questions. She's not up to dealing with the inquisition quite yet."
Just then, Buffy came around the corner. Dawn rushed to give her a hug. The others cautiously said "good morning" from where they stood.
Anya spoke up, "This morning, I learned that when humans don't know what to do to be helpful, they make food. So, we should eat now, because otherwise this food isn't so much helpful, but rather just another mess to clean up – and quite frankly, a waste of money."
"I cleared my computer stuff off the dining room table," added Willow. "So, we can eat in there."
They each carried something into the dining room and then, sat down to a veritable feast. They let Buffy have first choice of all the items and deferred to her when reaching for the last of something, checking if she wanted seconds.
It seemed a bit creepy to her. She kept exchanging glances with Spike, wishing she could just get out of there or that they would all leave. She just wanted to hear herself think, to process what had happened to her.
Finally, Buffy broke the silence. "So … what's everyone up to today?"
"Normal school and work stuff, but we can stay here. You know, if I you want us to," Willow offered.
"That's really not necessary. I could use a little quiet time to get my bearings. You should just all do whatever you need to do today. I'll be fine. I am fine."
Everyone looked around at everyone else, apprehensive both about what to say and what to do.
Spike spoke up, "I can stay here with her." Seeing the expression on Xander's face, he added, "You trusted me to stay here with Dawn. I don't see why this should be a problem."
Willow said, "Alright, but you promise to call one of us if either of you need anything or something happens?"
"Yes, mum." Spike's voice was dripping with sarcasm.
There was light banter while they finished their meal. Buffy remained silent throughout, until it was apparent that they were about to get up from the table to leave.
Buffy cleared her throat and made eye contact with Spike before speaking, directing her words at Willow, Tara, Xander, and Anya. "Look, you guys, there's this thing – so I'm just gonna say it. You brought me back. I was in … I can't think too much about what it was like, but then, you guys did what you did."
Beaming with pride and affection, Tara said, "It was Willow. She knew what to do."
Buffy acknowledged Willow's actions, "Okay. So, you did that. And the world came rushing back. I can't tell you what it means to me."
Willow rushed over and bent to hug Buffy where she sat. "You're welcome."
Xander joined in the hug. "Welcome home, Buffy."
As she released Buffy from her grip, Willow excitedly rambled, "Oh, I called Giles last night – he has been in England – and let him know that you were back. He said he'd get a flight today or tomorrow. So, the whole gang will be back together again soon enough."
After the others had left for the day, Spike and Buffy took the dishes to the kitchen. Spike washed; Buffy dried. Most of their time was spent in companionable silence. However, there was a long period of laughter that followed some horseplay: Spike flicked some water off his fingertips at Buffy's face, and then, she snapped the towel at Spike. She was not aiming for any particular body part, but the towel made contact with the left side of his buttocks.
The look of shock on his face gave her pause. She was not sure if she was more embarrassed or amused. Ultimately, amusement won out and laughter erupted from her throat. Spike was not sure if he was more shocked at the towel snap on his butt or the fact that she was laughing. He did not think he would hear a full-throated laugh out of her for quite a while. Once the smile spread across his face, there was no holding back his laughter. After several minutes, they had both stopped laughing and were breathing semi-normally.
"It feels good to laugh. I don't feel quite so numb when I'm laughing," Buffy admitted.
"Well, then I guess I have to … 'make with the funny' more often."
"Right now though, I could use some rest. I think I'll go upstairs and lie down for a while."
"As long as you're not actually planning a prison break, that sounds like a good idea."
Once she had gone upstairs, he went to the desk to find the phone number for Giles in England. Then, he went into the kitchen and dialed the phone. It rang a few times before Giles answered.
"Watcher. Good, you're still there."
"Spike, is that you?"
"Yes. I, uh, had an idea. I wanted to talk to you before you get on the plane, in case you might want to do something about this while you can talk to the Council face to face."
"I'm listening."
"Remember the talk we had about keeping an eye on finances …"
"Yes."
"Have you ever considered that it is strange that Watchers get paid, but Slayers don't get a stipend – not even so much as an allowance?"
"Spike, that's remarkably astute and quite timely, in light of her return. Yes, I will want to speak to them before I depart." The gears in Giles' mind were already spinning, but he paused them long enough to ask, "How is she? Really."
"Fine, apart from the traumatic shock you'd expect from someone who endured death falling through a portal and then brought back to life months later … inside her own coffin."
"Not exactly the time to be droll. But I take your meaning. In truth, though, is she alright?"
"As far as I can tell. She's a little more of an introvert than normal, but like I said, she's been through a bit of trauma. Can you blame her for needing to take a step back and catch her breath? Anyway, now that you plan to talk to them about a paycheck, when do you think you'll be able to leave?"
"Hopefully, tomorrow. Maybe, the day after. Don't say anything about this to the others. I'll call when I have my updated travel plans."
After Spike hung up, he went to check on Buffy. She was snuggled safely in her bed. He sat down in the chair and watched her sleep for over an hour.
When she opened her eyes and saw him there, she said, "You didn't need to babysit me."
"In case you had another nightmare, I didn't want you to wake up alone."
"Does that mean you're gonna move in here to keep an eye on me? This house is gonna burst at the seams if we keep taking in strays."
"Well, I don't consider myself a stray exactly … and I think the house could handle one more person, but that's beside the point. If you decide you want me around, I'll be happy to oblige, but I'm perfectly content maintaining my residence at the crypt and spending the bulk of my hours here. It's what I've been doing these past five months."
"Dawn mentioned that you've been a big help around here, not just with patrolling. That you've been a real friend to her. Thanks for that. I did ask you to protect her. Nice to know there are still some people who take a promise seriously." There was a loud noise. "Did you hear that? It sounded like a creak and then, a moan."
"Yeah, I heard it. When was the last time you had a plumber do any work on the pipes? This is an older house, after all."
"I have no idea. Mom always took care of that stuff."
"Well, you may want to ask Xander for some names. In the meantime, pay attention to those noises and keep your eyes open for leaks and drips. And whatever you do, don't try to fix it yourself."
"What makes you such an expert?"
"I've lived in my fair share of old houses – um, abandoned houses."
"Abandoned?"
"Alright, so I … evicted a few people here or there. And I was known to assume ownership of houses whose previous owners were … well, deceased. Hello – vampire here. But hey, you know what? That means I could live here. You're the previous owner. And you were deceased. Twice, I might add." He looked at her, trying to gage her reaction. "What? Too soon?"
"Yeah. Definitely too soon," was her reply, but she was mildly amused.
"Got another grin. Might just have to keep a tally."
[
That night when the group was discussing how to handle patrol, they asked Buffy if she wanted to participate.
"I'd rather not."
Xander said, "That's alright. The rest of us can handle things til you feel up to it. You okay staying here alone with Dawn?"
Glancing at Spike, Buffy replied, "Yeah, that's fine."
Before leaving, Spike pulled Buffy to the side to ask, "Do you want me to stop back here later … or …?"
"I should be fine. I'm sure you have other things to do."
"While that may be true, I have nothing better or more important to do."
At that, Buffy grinned and lightly punched Spike in the arm. "You'd better get going." To Dawn, she said, "Looks like we've got the house to ourselves. What would you like to do?"
"Well, I checked the tv listings earlier and She's All That is on. So, I thought: PJs and popcorn." Dawn checked the time and added, "Oh, it starts in less than half an hour."
"Well, then. Here's the plan: Acquire and deploy PJs. Rendezvous in the kitchen in ten minutes for munchie making and drink dispensing. Then, proceed to the drop zone, a.k.a. the couch. Move out, soldier."
Dawn was pleased that Buffy seemed in a cheerful – or at least, joking – mood. However, it had taken great effort for Buffy to put on that display.
They both enjoyed the movie – Dawn more so than Buffy. It was difficult to focus on the movie, fluffy as it was. Buffy's mind kept wandering to things both important and trivial. In fact, on the trivial side, she could not help but think that the high school building in the movie looked eerily familiar. The resemblance between it and the old Sunnydale High building was uncanny.
[
[
The next morning, Buffy went down to the basement to put in a load of laundry, but got distracted by a sound – a repetitive splat. With flashlight in hand, she found the source of the problem – a pipe with a leak. She located a bucket and placed it under the slow, but persistent drip. She would have been tempted to try to fix it herself, but remembered Spike's advice.
After taking care of a couple other household tasks, she dialed Xander's phone number. "Hey there, buddy, ol' pal, ol' friend o' mine …"
"What do you need now? I mean, I've helped bring you back from the dead twice."
"Sorry that I'm so high maintenance. But seriously, I need a favor."
"Shoot."
"I'm assuming that you know at least one plumber. Can you recommend a good one?"
"Why? What's up?"
"There's a pipe leaking in the basement. I think it may be more than that though. I heard some strange sounds the other day. Spike thought it sounded like the pipes. Suggested I get them checked out. Then today, I found a leak."
"Buff, I'm a little insulted. You went to him for advice on the house instead of me?"
"Not exactly. He just happened to be here at the time. But you'll like this part – he suggested that I ask you for a recommendation."
"Really?"
"Really."
"I'll call a friend of mine and have him stop over for an estimate. I'll try to be there when he does it, so you don't have to deal with the details."
"That'd be great. Thanks."
A short while later, Xander and his friend, Tito, who was armed with a tool box, arrived at the house. It was not long before they emerged from the basement and Tito announced, "Basically your pipes are shot. The whole system's gonna have to be replaced. What you need is a full copper repipe job."
Looking at the estimate, Willow worriedly quipped, "Full copper repipe? Sounds potentially pricey."
"But if you wait much longer, you could end up with a flooded basement. If you have any questions, my number's on the invoice," Tito said as he turned to leave.
The others gathered around to look at the numbers.
"Hey, Tito cut you a good deal. And I did a little hagglin' for ya." Xander attempted to elevate the mood.
"So, we'll pay him," Buffy stated, seemingly unconcerned.
Willow's voice showed her apprehension at the topic she had known they would eventually have to broach. "There's some stuff we're gonna have to talk to you about." She pulled out a pile of papers – bills, statements, and other assorted financial matters that would have to be dealt with.
After taking a cursory look, Buffy said, "Okay, so you're telling me I'm broke? How is that possible? I was all dead and frugal."
Anya was eager to jump into any conversation that involved her favorite topic: money. "Your Mom had insurance, but hospital bills sucked up all the money, which you're still hemorrhaging, by the way. See, this house – just sitting here, doing nothing – by itself costs money."
Tara tried to bring a sense of calm into the conversation. "Giles tried to keep an eye on the finances – budget, pinch pennies, and keep current on the bills. He was trying figure out what to do about things – you know, moving forward. Hopefully, he'll be back soon and—"
Buffy cut her off. "You guys, don't worry. It's just pieces of paper. It's not like it's the end of the world – which is too bad, because that I'm really good at."
Anya's enthusiasm was apparent as she offered her particular brand of a solution. "Start charging … for slaying vampires. You're providing a valuable service to the whole community. I say cash in! I mean, it's not so crazy." She had rambled while everyone else in the room grew uncomfortable. "Well, you may not like my idea, but here's an estimate of the debt. You're gonna need a plan to deal with this – and soon. Let me know if you want any advice. I'll be at the store." With that, she grabbed her purse and huffed out – unhappy yet again that when the others clearly did not welcome her opinion, Xander did not stick up for her.
Just as the front door shut with Xander following closely behind Anya, the phone rang. Willow answered and spoke to Giles who told her he was at the airport to catch his flight and would need someone to pick him up later tonight. She brought him up-to-date on the pipe problem and the fact that they had talked to Buffy about the bill situation.
He said firmly, "Don't do anything or make any decisions until I get there. I've found a solution to the dilemma."
"Alright. I mean, that's good. Anyway, one of us will be there to pick you up. It'll be good to have you back."
[
That night, Willow picked Giles up at the airport. During the drive, he inquired how exactly Buffy had returned. Willow was eager to boast about her latest and greatest feat. For the moment, he chose to refrain from comment.
When they arrived back at the house, Buffy and Spike had just returned from a brief and largely uneventful patrol.
Holding her face in his hands, Giles whispered, "Buffy, you're a…"
"A miracle."
"But then I always thought so." He embraced her with all the warmth of a trusted friend and the love of a father – they had long since ceased being purely the Slayer and her Watcher.
The others quietly left the room, giving Giles and Buffy some privacy. The pair talked mostly about how she was dealing with being brought back. However, there was some talk about the outstanding debts and the need for cash flow.
"The good news is that the Council has agreed to begin paying you, starting from the day you came back. They would not agree to back pay for prior years of service. The bad news is that they need to figure out where that money is going to come from. Since slayers usually have a rather limited lifespan, they have not been confronted with an adult slayer asking for income to sustain her and any surviving family. The accountants are crunching numbers and promise to find it somewhere. However, that means you won't be receiving paychecks immediately. During the flight, I was thinking it over and I've decided to give you some of the money you'll need for the repairs. However, you may need to look at getting some temporary employment to help cover expenses in the short term. And might I suggest that even before the paychecks begin, we should look at creating a budget and a plan for getting the debt under control."
"Thank you for all your help with this."
"You're quite welcome. You should know that, in truth, it was Spike's idea to approach the Council about compensating you." Looking at his watch, he said, "Oh my, it's gotten rather late. Would you mind terribly if I stayed here tonight?"
When Buffy went to find sheets and a blanket, Spike took the opportunity to talk to Giles and found that the Watcher was concerned about Willow's accelerated progress in the use of magic. Remembering what future-Buffy had said, Spike suggested to Giles that he might want to consider getting Willow some formal training, a mentor, some sort of oversight – surely the Council had people or at least connections to those who could provide that type of instruction and safety net for the young witch. Giles took the suggestion to heart.
While Buffy was gathering things for Giles to sleep over, she was thinking about what he had just told her – that Spike was the one to thank for resolving what could have been a huge stress on her. She laid the pile of linens on the couch and headed out the back door, to sit alone with her thoughts.
By this time, Giles and Willow were having a discussion – at times, a heated debate – about her naïve use of potentially dark and dangerous power. With Spike's words echoing in his mind, Giles was able to deescalate the situation and bring the conversation to a more productive end. When they parted, Willow had agreed to regular contact with a coven in England – opportunities for them to instruct her, for her to ask questions, and for them to advise and give counsel, if they saw warning signs of an abuse of spiritual power.
All the while, Buffy could hear the conversation inside. Although she was mildly disturbed by Giles' concern about what could have gone wrong, she was glad that he was going to make sure that Willow got the training she had actually been seeking for years now.
Spike sat down beside her. "What's going on in that noggin of yours?"
"Just thinking … I feel like I'm spending all of my time trying to be … 'okay' … so they don't worry. It's exhausting. And then …"
"That makes 'em worry even more." With a smirk on his face and a lilt in his voice to match, he asked, "You want me to take 'em out? Give me a hell of a headache, but I can probably thin the herd a little."
Buffy exhaled in a manner that was almost a laugh and shook her head at what he had said.
"Knew I could get another grin. Seems I'm on a roll."
"Care if I throw a moment of seriousness in the middle of your stand-up act? … I hear I have you to thank for the fact that I'll soon be receiving paychecks from the Council."
Spike shrugged off her acknowledgement of his actions. "That? 'Twas nothing."
She let his response hang in the air between them, remaining quiet for a few moments. He studied her features and her expression.
Finally, she voiced a question, "Why are you always around when I'm alone?"
"I'm not one for crowds these days."
"Me neither."
"That works out nicely then."
[
[
The following morning, after getting Dawn off to school, Buffy had plans to meet Anya and Giles at the Magic Box to discuss her finances and put together a plan to attack the mounting bills. This was decidedly easier now that they knew she would have some money coming in. There were still some decisions to be made and planning to be done in order for her and Dawn to remain in the house and for college tuition for Dawn – and for Buffy, should she decide to resume her studies.
When Buffy left the house, Willow placed a call to L.A. Cordelia answered the phone and quickly got Angel.
As soon as he put the phone to his ear, he asked, "Willow, what is it? Is something wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, but something big has happened and I wanted to let you know. We waited to tell you, because there's been an adjustment period. But, well, are you sitting down?"
"Why do I need to be sitting?"
"Well, Cordy told me how hard you took Buffy's death and this news is equally shocking … I just want to make sure that …"
"You've got my attention. And I'm sitting. Give it to me already."
"Buffy is back. She is alive."
"How is that possible?"
"Lots of research. Gathered ingredients. Then, we did a spell."
"Is she there? Why didn't she call?"
"She's been getting … uh, re-acclimated. And besides, wouldn't it have freaked you out to hear her voice on the other end of the line? Right now, she's down at the Magic Box. I can give you the number, if you want to call there."
[
A few minutes later, the phone rang at the Magic Box. Anya answered it and seemed genuinely disappointed that it was not a potential customer. "Buffy, it's for you."
"Who would be calling me? Especially here." She took the handset from Anya. "Hello?"
"Buffy, it's so good to hear your voice."
Turning her back to her friends, she spoke barely above a whisper. "Angel? How did you know … to call?"
"I just got off the phone with Willow. Can I see you? Can we meet? I need to see you."
"Yes. We should … "
When they had finished talking, Buffy hung up and just stared at the phone for a few moments.
Giles inquired, "Buffy, what is it?"
"Angel. He knows that I'm ... He needs to see me. I have to see him."
"Of course, you'll leave for L.A. tomorrow."
"Not L.A. and not here. Somewhere in the middle. There's a place ... I have to go now." Buffy quickly gathered her things and was on her way. She needed to make a stop at the house before getting on the road.
[
Unbeknownst to Giles, Anya, or Buffy, someone had overheard the preceding conversation. Spike had come in through the basement and had just opened the door at the top of the stairs when Buffy began telling them that she needed to go see Angel. After he watched her exit the store, he quietly closed the door and went back through the basement to the tunnels.
All the way back to the crypt, he kept turning her words over in his head: "He needs to see me … I have to see him … I have to go now." More than the weight and meaning of her words, her actions seemed clear – she was not only determined to see Angel, she was in a hurry. Future-Buffy had not mentioned this. She mentioned Angel coming for a visit in about a year and a half, but not this. Did it happen in her timeline and it was so unimportant it did not need to be mentioned? Or was this a new event in this timeline? Those and many more questions rolled around in his head threatening to drive him mad or possibly to drink.
[
Angel had chosen the place – a hotel (vampire-friendly, with an attached parking garage) located in a small-ish town a little closer to her than to him. He had said that he would make a reservation in his name and that she should check in when she got there. With L.A. traffic, it would take him longer to make the drive. She could order room service if she was hungry. Once he got there, they could talk freely in the privacy of their room. He would have a few hours before he needed to return to L.A.
After she arrived, she looked around the hotel for a little while. Just off the lobby, there was a small gift shop and a restaurant. Then, she decided to go up to their room and rest while she waited for him. She did not intend to doze off, but about an hour later, she was startled awake when the door opened.
For what seemed like several minutes, Angel stood in the doorway just staring at Buffy. Finally, he closed the door and turned back toward her. Buffy swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat facing him.
He was not sure where to begin. It had not been easy to talk to her on the phone, but not nearly as difficult as trying to find the words while looking into her eyes.
She decided to break the silence. "So, how've you been?" Her tone was filled with effortful casualness.
Angel decided he would play along for the moment and shrugged as he asked, "Me? How have you been?"
"Dead. And you?"
"Undead." With his hands in his pockets, he watched his own feet while taking a few tentative steps toward her. "I just … I can't believe you're really here."
"In the flesh."
Falling to his knees before her, he briefly looked up at her and that was all it took. Unable to resist, he leaned in to kiss her. As had always been the case with them, they got lost in each other. They both knew that they could not let the intimate moment go much further. For them, crossing the line would have consequences bigger and badder than either was willing to risk. They knew this all too well. However, they were like magnets – the closer they were, the more difficult it was to stay apart.
Quickly becoming overwhelmed by his emotions, he dropped his head into her lap and began to cry. She stroked his hair, as much to comfort herself as to console him. The minutes passed – at first, comfortably. Eventually, the intended (but as of yet, avoided) conversation hung thickly in the room.
With his head still resting on her thighs, "So, you're really okay? I mean, you look …" He lifted his head. "… fine. Better than fine. Good. Great, even. So, you're okay?"
"Does the phrase 'alive and well' mean anything to you?" She tilted her head and gave him a slightly sad smile. "To be perfectly honest?"
"That would be nice."
"Physically, I'm fine. Emotionally, I guess you'd say that I'm getting there. Some days are easier than others."
"Do you want to talk about it – what happened to you, where you were?"
"Not really. But if you want to know, if that's what you need to hear, then I will tell you about it."
He remained quiet, waiting for her to continue. She stood and offered him her hand. One hand in hers and his other on the bed, he got to his feet and allowed her to lead him over to the sofa. They sat facing one another as she began to recount her experience the past several months.
He had heard about the battle from Willow, but there were portions only Buffy could know about. As she told him about the moment she decided that she would sacrifice herself rather than have Dawn jump, he became quiet as he absorbed the full meaning of her words. He was surprised to see her face light up as she talked about falling into the portal. He would have expected to see pain and horror in her expression. Even her voice had a sense of joy and awe as she described seeing her life pass before her eyes.
"Although my life had been relatively short, I knew – I mean, I was absolutely sure in a way I had never been – that I had done as much I could be expected to, that I had done well. It felt as if the vastness of time and eternity embraced me in that moment. Like whatever – or whoever – had chosen me for this was letting me know I not only had nothing to fear, but also nothing to regret."
She had a far off look in her eyes and fell silent.
Angel prodded, "What happened after that? Where did you go?"
"It's not something I can easily explain – at least, not yet. I don't really understand it."
"But Willow said – I mean, she assumed – that you were in a hell dimension, being tortured. It sounds to me like … that's not the case. Can you at least tell me if you were in pain? Did anything bad happen?"
"Nothing bad. No pain. Well, not while I was gone. Reentry was a little bumpy. That's all I'll say for now. But please don't say anything to Willow or the others. If I'm not ready to talk to you about it, I'm certainly not ready to talk to them about it."
"I'm glad to hear that you weren't tortured, but the rest of it …" There was an edge in his voice as he trailed off, unable or willing to finish his thought.
"What?"
"I guess I can understand you not being ready to talk to them. But I'd like to think you could tell me anything. I mean, you really should talk to someone about what happened to you. A few years ago when Xander had to give you CPR – you were technically dead then. But that was nothing compared to this." He watched her expression carefully as he said again, "You really should talk to someone about this. Don't you think?" When she did not reply, he added, "Or have you been talking to someone?"
Responding to his suspicious tone, she asked, "What do you mean by that?"
His tone and body language became childish as he said, "Sure, I spend three months in a monastery working through my grief and then this. Who would have believed that you would come back? And you did. But not back to me."
"What are you talking about?"
"Spike. I remember his scent pretty well. So what is he now … your best friend? Your boyfriend?"
"I am so not having this conversation with you."
"You so are! Clearly, you've been spending time with him – your jacket reeks of him."
"Okay, maybe I've been spending time with him. What of it?"
"Just to be clear: You could talk to him about everything you went through, but you couldn't talk to me or your best friends?"
"Well, not in the way that I think you mean, but yes, I could talk to him." She put up a hand to stop him from interrupting. "He was there at the house the night I, um, got back. He bandaged my hands. And unlike everyone else, he didn't press me to talk. He just let me be quiet."
Before she could continue, he interjected a question. "Bandaged your hands? What happened … ?"
"I guess Willow didn't tell you." She looked down at her hands in her lap. "I had to dig myself out …"
"… of your grave. Oh, Buffy. I'm so sorry. I didn't even notice." He paused. "Okay, I get why you can talk to him about that, rather than your never-been-dead friends. But you could have talked to me."
"Angel. No. For starters, we agreed that we needed to be apart – you in L.A., me in Sunnydale. You can't come running every time I need to talk. And be honest, you have difficulty being around me when I'm emotional and needy. Remember the night of my Mom's funeral? Leaning on you in those moments has the potential to be bad for everyone."
"Well, yeah. But you gotta admit, from my perspective, this is unexpected to say the least. I mean, I'm supposed to be the one you turn to and lean on – not Spike. I love you, Buffy. And I thought that you loved me. But if you go running into his arms and you're willing to jump—" He cut himself off.
"First, I did not run into his arms. It's not like that. But what were about to say?"
His eyes and tone of voice both had a mixture of anger and sadness as he stammered his way through an explanation. "I guess it didn't hit me until just now, but … I'm … I guess the word is hurt. Hurt that you were willing to kill me to close a portal. But for Dawn – who is not really your sister – you apparently loved her enough to sacrifice yourself rather than have her close the portal. The fact that you're buddies with Spike … well, that's just an added kick in the gut." By the end of his ramble, he was whining.
"You know you sound ultra-mature right now, don't you? I have so much to figure out at this point – why I died, why I'm back, what I'm going to do now that I am back. I can't deal with relationship drama on top of all that."
"Relationship! You admitted it."
"I admitted nothing. A friendship is a relationship. Family – being related to someone – is a relationship. I have many relationships. Some of them of less angst-filled than others. Can we just leave it at that? At least, for the time being?"
"Alright. But for the record, I don't like it – you spending time with Spike. Whatever you're doing or not doing. I don't like it."
"Duly noted."
They talked a while more. It was as painful as one would expect – being in close proximity to someone you have cared about with all of your heart, but to be with them would mean pain not just for you, but many others. It was the same old story. One they seemed to revisit time and again – every time they saw one another, every time they thought of one another.
Then, all too soon (or perhaps not soon enough), it was time for Angel to head back to L.A.
After they had checked out of the room, they walked to the parking garage together. They slowed as they approached her car. He took her hand and raised it to his lips. He continued to hold her hand with both of his and then pressed it to his chest. She brought her other hand to the back of his neck, lowering his head so she could kiss the corner of his mouth. He opened her car door and took a step back as she closed it. They exchanged one last longing gaze. He stood on that same spot until she had driven off.
At that moment, they were both thinking the same thing: they were glad for the opportunity to see one another, but sometimes it was easier to forget the intenseness of what they shared when they stayed apart.
[
When she returned from seeing Angel, she was not quite ready to see everyone at the house. So, she took a walk, hoping that she would not need to slay anything in the process. Realizing that her meandering stroll had brought her near Spike's crypt, she decided to see if he was home. She knocked and getting no answer, she walked in.
From downstairs, Spike heard the door to the crypt open and close. He had been using the wall as a punching bag, letting it have the brunt of his frustration. He quickly grabbed a nearby weapon and made his way upstairs, only to find that his visitor was decidedly friend rather than foe.
"You should be careful. Never know what kind of villain's got a knife at your back," he said, showing her the weapon in his hand.
As she looked at the blade, she noticed his bloody knuckles. "Your hand is hurt."
Nodding in her direction, he said, "Same to you." After setting the weapon aside, he studied her expression. "You can sit down. I've got more furniture now. The downstairs is quite posh."
"Do you have anything to clean those wounds?"
"Come to think of it, I think your Watcher might have left some supplies here when he and Xander brought me home after Glory tried to beat the stuffing out of me." He found what he was looking for over by the fridge.
As he sat facing her, she took his hand in hers and was reminded of the night when he had done this very thing for her.
While she began the task at hand, he asked in his most polite tone, "What can I do for you this fine evening?"
Buffy wanted to be honest with Spike, but was also uneasy about what his reaction might be. "I wanted to tell you … I had a call earlier … from Angel. He found out that I'm … anyway, I went to see him today. I just wanted you to hear it from me."
"I did actually. I was coming up from the basement of the Magic Box when you were finishing the call. I overheard you tell them that you were going. Decided not to make my presence known. Didn't want to get in the way. You seemed in a hurry to go. Figured you'd tell me what you wanted me to know when you were ready."
"I just felt like I needed to see him and he wanted to see me. I suppose he'll always be in my heart to a certain extent. He was my first love, my first …"
"I am aware of that. He lost his soul – moment of perfect happiness and all that. And if that weren't enough of a clue ... as Angelus, he has a tendency to shoot his mouth off." Looking at his feet, Spike proceeded with caution, "So, your … uh … meeting went well? Enjoyed yourselves, but not so much as to de-soul him?"
She pulled a face at that last remark. "Yes. He is still Angel, soul intact." She paused considering how much to say and how to say it. "It was good to see him, but strange. You know? Things are different now. And even if they weren't, we – he and I – couldn't really jump back into a … relationship. It could only end badly." She paused again. "Also, there's this strange … something he said … like as much as he was happy to see me, happy that I am alive – he was …"
When she did not continue, he prodded, "He was what?"
"He said he was hurt – but I think also a little offended – that I had willingly killed him, had thrown him into a portal in order to save the world, but that I chose to give my own life for a person who is not really my sister. Also, he wasn't thrilled that I've been hanging out with you."
"Told him about that, did you?"
"Well, in order to tell him what had happened since I got back … I kinda had to include you. He asked. I told. But he would have known anyway – he could smell you … your scent on my jacket."
"And it bothered him? Us spending time together." He tried to keep his tone even, but his glee could clearly be heard.
"Yeah – it bothered him. What is it with you two?"
"Like any family I suppose – long history, sometimes playing nice, sometimes feuding." He tilted his head, as he asked, "Just to sum up: no reconciliation with the ex?"
She was beginning to understand why his hand was bleeding. "And … it apparently bothers you that I went to see him."
"Not exactly. I understand why you wanted to see each other. Just trying to understand what that means."
"Does it have to mean something?"
"No. Honestly, I'd prefer that it didn't."
She tilted her head and gazed at him with smiling eyes. Then, she turned her attention back to his hand for a moment. "Well, it seems my work here is done. I should probably get going. I didn't really tell them how long I'd be gone."
"Right then. Off you go."
"I was going to make a sweep of one more cemetery on my way. Care to join me?"
Grinning, Spike replied, "Think I could make the time."
As they walked in comfortable silence, Spike wondered how long it would be before Buffy was ready to discuss the kiss they had shared five months ago. And at the same time, he was desperately trying not to obsess over the fact that she had gone running to Angel the moment he called.
Future-Buffy had repeatedly told him to be patient, to win her over with kindness, be a gentleman. Giving her an ultimatum about discussing that kiss would be crossing the line. And pressing her for more information about her time today with Angel would not be helpful at all – no matter how much it was killing him to know whether or not the two of them had kissed.
Vampires were not really known to have a penchant for quoting the Bible, but he seemed to recall hearing the words: "Love is patient. Love is kind." God help him. He did love her, but this bit about being patient and kind was not a frequently exercised part of his nature.
As he glanced up at the glowing moon overhead and then at the beautiful woman walking by his side, he reminded himself that she was here … alive … with him. For now, that was more than enough.
A/N:
Thanks so much for the new follows, favorites, and kind words. It is quite motivating!
PREVIEW: Chapter 11 will correspond to episodes #6.5 "Life Serial" and #6.6 "All the Way" (which is the Halloween episode – sorry I couldn't get to it in time for the holiday).
I hope that you enjoyed this long chapter – since this fic will be on hiatus for a while. I am doing NaNoWriMo in November, working on one of my original fiction ideas. I'll try to get back to this in December.
Until next time ...
~Jen
30 October 2015