A/N: And now, the feature presentation! Yes, this where the stuff mentioned in the summary finally starts proper, and some of the big important stuff happens this chapter. Handled the resurrection a bit differently from the show, and I really hope I did an okay job with this. Going to start making these chapters longer (and hopefully better quality now—the short ones have sorta been a cop-out because I didn't know how to transition/continue well from some points).
Any reviews/critique/suggestions/etc. would be greatly appreciated! I'm a novice at this whole thing and still learning a lot as I go, and the most important thing to me here is writing a good story that you'll enjoy reading!
VI. The Resurrection
Willow sat amidst a pile of books, making notes and bookmarking pages as she went. This was the most complicated spell she'd ever worked on, her masterpiece, having spent months of extensive research to put this together, carefully modifying it to create the perfect resurrection spell that could truly bring somewhat back from the dead. No shambling zombies or horrible evil clones, the real genuine article completely brought back to life. She was so close now, and excitement swelled in her chest as she quickly jotted down another set of notes, so thrilled that she could hardly keep her hand steady to write.
She was going to bring Buffy back. She was going to rescue her soul from whatever dimension it became lost in when she jumped through that portal. She was going to be a hero.
"Sweetie, are you coming to bed soon?"
"In a bit. I think I've finally got this!" She looked up from her work briefly to smile brightly at her lover, leaning over to wrap an arm around the fuller-figured witch and pull her into a joyful hug. "We're really going to be able to bring her back!"
Tara gave Willow a sleepy smile in return, filled with affection at seeing her so happy, and kissed her gently. "No wonder you're so excited. You've been working so hard on this. You really should get some sleep, though...this is too important for you to finish it up while you're tired."
The redheaded witch yawned, then nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, you're right," she admitted, scanning over her notes a final time to double-check that it was all in order before carefully putting everything away and climbing into bed with Tara, snuggling up to her cozily as she waited for sleep to come.
By tomorrow night, she could have this spell completely ready and have everything she needed to perform it. The only catch would be making sure Spike wasn't around, since she knew how much he hated magic and she was worried he might interfere somehow...but that wouldn't be too hard, especially since she'd already managed to keep all of her planning a secret from him so far. Giles had left for England, so she wouldn't have to worry about him giving her any righteous lectures about what she was going to do. He'd been hit hard by the loss of the Slayer that had been like a daughter to him, and Willow knew he'd be grateful to have Buffy back, regardless of what he'd try to tell her if he was here.
It would be the most challenging spell she'd ever attempted, but it would be worth it. This would change everything. In her own way, she would be helping to save the whole world by bringing back its strongest warrior.
Tomorrow night, Buffy would live again.
Spike glanced around at the other occupants of Willy's as he sauntered in, scanning the crowd for anyone that looked like they might be trouble. As much as he normally loved a good brawl, with the shape he was in lately he'd probably just wind up getting thrashed if he got caught in one. Thankfully he at least hadn't lost the ability to act intimidating, deliberately putting on his trademark coolly casual air and confident swagger as he headed over to the bar, since he knew better than to make himself look like an easy target.
"Hey, Spike! Buddy! Haven't seen you around here in awhile," Willy's weaselly voice addressed him, the bartender looking over at the approaching vampire. "Where ya been?"
Spike flopped down on a barstool, lighting up a smoke. "Eh, jus' been layin' low lately."
"Place ain't very lively without ya, I gotta say, though the lack of property damage has been sorta nice," Willy continued, laughing nervously. "So, uh, how ya been doin', pal? And hey, you've lost weight! You look...er, well, not good, exactly...you look, uh..." He awkwardly trailed off from his failed attempt at small-talk with a cough as Spike stared at him with one eyebrow raised, the vampire looking not at all amused. "...Y'know, why don't I just get your drink? What'll it be?"
"Whiskey, straight," Spike responded shortly, tuning out further attempts by the bartender to engage him in conversation and simply nursing his drink in silence when he received it. Truth be told, he'd mainly come here to drown his sorrows in alcohol, and this was the best place to go for a drink around here and admittedly had a pretty nice atmosphere for a demon bar. The Scoobies had recommended he take the night off from patrolling and kick back, and this seemed as good a place as any to do it. He really needed to pull himself out of this depression over the Slayer's death, but all attempts to cheer himself up only ever served as a temporary fix to distract him from the fact he was sinking ever-further into this rut. Just a few years ago, he'd been actively trying to kill her...and yet here he was now, struggling to go on without her when he ought to be rejoicing, and her death was slowly destroying him. It was painfully ironic, to say the least.
The increasingly enticing smell of blood in the air from other vampiric patrons with their drinks caused his stomach to growl loudly, suddenly reminding him that it'd been far too long since he'd last remembered to eat. It was all too easy to forget entirely when he spent most of his time wallowing in misery, and that thought made him very annoyed at himself. He wasn't the sort of pathetic ponce that ought to be spending all his time pining over some girl, especially one that hadn't even shown any sort of interest in him when she was alive beyond using him as a punching bag.
Furthering his annoyance, apparently Willy had taken notice of his complaining stomach, as he took that precise moment to mention hesitantly, "Just got a new shipment of the good stuff recently, by the way...y'know, if you're hungry."
Glancing up at the bartender, Spike scowled at the concerned look on the man's face. He was really tired of being pitied by people. Though he considered declining just to spite the guy, he decided better of it, since he was unhealthy enough as it was. "Yeah, sure...gimme an O-neg too," he muttered rather apathetically. He paused a moment, then snarled very irritably, " 'N quit bloody lookin' at me like that!"
Willy jumped skittishly at the sudden angry outburst, then quickly turned away and busied himself fetching the drink. "Right, sorry."
Spike accepted the blood with feigned indifference when it was handed to him and drank it as slowly as possible, not wanting to further humiliate himself by downing it ravenously. He set it down at one point to finish his smoke with an affected look of casual boredom, putting out the spent cigarette in a nearby ashtray before finally finishing off the glass. Thankfully, he didn't attract any more attention from the nosy bartender, who was leaving him alone now save for serving him more booze when he asked for it, and none of the other patrons seemed to be paying him much mind. Relaxing a bit now that he had some peace, he resumed drinking in silence, letting the slight fuzzy feeling from the alcohol help his mind go blank so he could forget about his troubles for awhile.
"It feels...wrong...d-digging up her body like this," Tara mentioned, shivering with apprehension as they approached Buffy's grave. She had intense misgivings about doing this spell, as it felt like they were disrupting the natural order of life and death, but Willow had assured her that the supernatural causes of the Slayer's death made her exempt from those laws. She could only hope that the other witch was right and truly knew what she was doing.
"Yeah. Creepy," Xander agreed, looking down at the grave, the shovel he'd brought with him slung over his shoulder. "Getting some serious wiggins here. You're sure this is going to work, no freaky zombie-Buffy wanting to eat our brains?"
Willow and Anya were busying themselves setting out the spell components, the ex-demon having been great help in acquiring them with her exceptional bartering skills. "I'm sure," the redhead replied, though her voice lacked conviction somewhat. "I was really careful checking everything about this spell. It's going to work."
"Can't we do this without...y'know...digging up a dead body?" Xander muttered as he started digging, shuddering at the implications. "This is majorly morbid."
"We need her body if we're going to put her soul back in it," Willow explained, taking a deep breath to try to calm herself and focus. "That's what the spell does. It's going to completely restore her body back to life, just like she was before she died." She frowned. "Her soul will still have memories of...wherever she is right now, though, so she might be...confused when she comes back. I wish we could have done this sooner. What if...what if she went somewhere terrible, some awful Hell dimension of Glory's?"
"Then we'll be saving her," Anya chimed in, trying to be optimistic.
Willow nodded silently, sitting down on the damp ground. Tara took a seat beside her and stroked her shoulder reassuringly.
Coughing, Xander set down the shovel and dusted the dirt from himself. He grunted and panted from effort as he hauled the heavy coffin out of the grave with difficulty, then he slowly pushed it into the centre of the circle the others were forming before flopping down in his designated spot and wiping his brow.
"Alright, this is going to take a lot of power," Willow explained, her voice stronger now as she gradually gained confidence. "We'll all join hands in this circle, and you'll all concentrate with me to help give me more power and strengthen the magic. Don't move until I've finished. You'll know when it's done."
The group linked hands in a circle around the coffin, and Willow took a deep breath, closing her eyes and lowering her head to help her focus as she began to chant in a strange language. Slowly at first, they all felt a tingle of energy in their joined hands, gradually spreading to their entire bodies, the sensation growing and building as the witch's chanting sped up and became more intense. Eventually, a dim glow began to emit from the coffin. When Willow opened her eyes and raised her head once more, Tara gasped in shock to see that the other witch's eyes had become eerily solid black.
"Osiris, God of Death, I entreat thee," Willow continued in a language they could now understand, her voice sounding slightly distorted and unnatural, as though influenced by some supernatural source. "This great warrior has fallen, yet it was not her time to meet you. Return her to life. Return her to our world."
The intensity of the energy now burned, feeling nearly like a current of electricity coursing through the circle. The glow from the coffin became blinding as a deep disembodied voice intoned, "Mortal, your request has been granted. The Slayer shall be returned to you." There was a pause, then slowly the lid of the coffin slid open of its own accord, a long and tense moment passing before the glow finally dimmed away and the energy gradually began to fade from the linked circle. When it had gone, Willow slumped forward in exhaustion, weakened and breathing heavily from the exertion of the powerful magic she'd just performed.
They then released each other's hands, and Tara wrapped her arms around the other witch to keep her from collapsing. When her eyes fluttered open, Tara was greatly relieved to see that they'd returned to normal. Willow gratefully leaned against her lover for support as she recovered, looking toward the open coffin and asking nervously in a strained voice, "Did...did it work?"
All eyes turned to the body inside the coffin as it began to stir. Buffy indeed looked just as she had before she died, as if she hadn't been dead and buried for months. She sat up very slowly, then her eyes snapped open wide with a fearful look in them...and then she screamed.
Everyone suddenly rushed at once to try to console her, worried something might have gone wrong. She appeared completely unharmed, but her eyes were darting around fearfully at everything around her. "Wh-where am I?" she asked shakily, trembling as she was helped upright. "I...I was dead...I...died..." Finally making eye contact with the group, her voice grew quiet with horror as she asked them, "...Am I in Hell?"
"Buffy, it's okay. You're not in Hell anymore. We saved you," Willow reassured her, fearing that she'd been right in suspecting that the Slayer had been trapped somewhere horrific. She wished yet again that she could have brought her back sooner. "You died saving the world. We brought you back."
"Was this supposed to happen?" Anya asked the obvious question that all of them were wondering.
"Willow did say she might be disoriented at first," Tara replied, looking at the shaken Slayer with intense worry. "We don't know where she was, or...or how much time has passed for her there."
Buffy slowly looked around at all of them, trying to remember who they all were. Eventually a spark of recognition shone through the confusion in her eyes. She remembered these people. This was the world she'd left behind when she dove into the portal. But why was she back here now? She'd given her life to save the world, been freed finally from the burden of her sacred duty as the Slayer. Yet now, she was back here, where she would have to keep fighting demons and saving the world. She didn't understand. She didn't want this.
"Buffy, are you okay?" Xander asked uncertainly, worried at how shaken she was.
Buffy slowly backed away from the group, now able to stand on her own. She stood there for a long moment, feeling increasingly trapped as she stared at the people crowding around her, then suddenly she took off running, bolting away like a startled animal.
"Buffy! Wait!" Willow called after her, moving to follow her, only to find herself held back by Tara.
"She's faster than us. We can't catch up to her right now," Tara pointed out, feeling as though she was the only voice of reason among them at the moment. "I...I think she needs to be alone for a bit. She looked so scared and confused..." She sighed sadly, wondering once more if this was such a good idea after all. "Let her calm down for a bit," she suggested, "then we'll look for her. O-okay?"
Willow nodded, trying not to cry. "She thought she was in Hell," she breathed shakily, still shocked by it. "Goddess, what if she was? She must be traumatised." The redheaded witch buried her face against Tara's shoulder, seeking comfort from the troubling notion. "I hope she'll be alright."
Tara gently stroked her fingers through Willow's hair. "I...I think she will. I think she just needs time." At least, that was what she hoped. Secretly, the shy witch greatly feared it might not be so simple.
Tired from his night out and feeling like curling up in bed, Spike slowly began to make his way back towards the house. Drinking really hadn't helped dull the pain all that much, though he hadn't let himself get completely rat-arsed, needing his senses on alert in case he ran into trouble on the way home. His thoughts were still on the Slayer, and he sighed wearily, his body feeling heavy from the weight of his depression. It seemed like this would just haunt him forever, that he'd never feel joy again after her death.
The vampire kicked at the ground in irritation as he walked. When had he become so utterly broken? He was the Big Bad, he had a history of raising hell and being feared, and now he'd turned into a complete and utter nancy, so destroyed over the loss of the woman he loved that he rarely even remembered that he was supposed to want to drink blood. He didn't even have a soul, yet here he was brooding over love like his great poof of a Grandsire.
His anger at himself increased when he felt tears coming, and he blinked them back, refusing to start sobbing again. Maybe he'd had a bit too much to drink, or not enough to eat, because he could swear he could actually sense the Slayer around, and that just made him feel all the worse. Apparently he was so caught up over her that he was hallucinating about her now. Pathetic.
He was so distracted with his thoughts and so busy feeling sorry for himself that he didn't notice the figure approaching him until he was abruptly struck by a forceful blow, slamming him into a nearby brick wall, then pinned there with his back pressed up against it. Reeling from the force of the assault, he was slow in registering his assailant, panic setting in when he saw that they were holding a stake, threateningly poised to drive it into his heart. When he then looked up from it to the figure's face, he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
It couldn't be the Slayer. It was impossible. She was dead. No...it was likely just the bot, maybe malfunctioning at the moment and seeing him as an acceptable target. As he considered this option and tried to calm down, it suddenly hit him that the tingling feeling of the Slayer's presence was now stronger than ever, and he could acutely sense her heartbeat, her breathing, that smell that was so uniquely her. He stared at her face in complete shock, taking in her lost and confused expression as she held the stake still rather than lowering it. It was as if she didn't fully recognise him, yet realised that she ought to know who he was.
Hesitantly, almost afraid that she would disappear if he touched her, he slowly raised a very shaky hand to her cheek. Her skin was so warm. So alive.
"...Buffy?" he whispered in bewilderment, so incredibly overwhelmed that he could barely even speak. She looked alarmed at him saying her name, seeming as though she was trying to recall something...then suddenly she released him and backed away, the stake clattering to the ground as she dropped it.
All he could do was stare in absolute awe at the woman standing before him, words completely failing him. He didn't know how, but it was really Buffy. She was alive.
