She's Buffy

The night still loomed over the old crypt where silence had settled in the area for hours. The loud roars of motorcycle engines and their riders no longer saturated the air with fear and chaos. It seemed they had fled or grown weary of the small town, which harboured so much resistance. Demons and other creatures, who had found shelter inside Sunnydale's ignorant walls, felt a sense of obligation to defend their small home and its strange balance of good and evil. Houses were a blaze and streets were littered with torn garbage bags and broken bottles. From under beds, inside cupboards and basement holes, the humans were beginning to come out of hiding. With the absence of the otherworldly creatures, police and firefighters were soon on the streets, organizing town wide clean up and rescue. The community was functioning again, only no human would admit what they really saw. Life would go on. The day horned demons invaded their town, would be downplayed as the day law breaking hoodlums rebelled against society.

The crypt was cold and musty. Most of the furniture was stone, which didn't leave a comfortable place to sit unless one counted the couch that looked like it was taken from the street curb. Buffy was sitting upright on the flattened cushion with knees curled up against her chest. She was rubbing her cold feet and noticed her toenails were painted black. It wasn't as big of a shock as realizing her fingernails were too. Dawn stood across from her with arms crossed, leaning back against the wall. A candle rested on the table in front of her flickering from the wind that found its way through the cracks in the crypt walls. She stared at the candle in deep thought making Buffy wonder if her sister was starting to believe.

Dawn's lips thinned as she gazed at Drusilla. "It's the same one Buffy was buried in," Dawn said, the words catching in her throat.

Buffy felt a tight wire loosen inside and she half smiled. "Sorry, I kinda ruined it," she looked down at the mud stains on the gown and tried to rub them off. "Most of this is from when I dug out of— from when I woke up."

Spike sat down beside her holding a mug of warm blood in each hand and exchanged glances with Dawn. He handed Drusilla a cup, which she reluctantly accepted. She sniffed it and then stared at it unpleasantly.

"This isn't human blood is it?"

"Well yeah? Now that my chip is gone, human is back on the menu," he said taking a sip of his drink.

"What?" she said in a high-pitched voice. "How—did you torture another doctor? Bad Spike." She wanted to be serious, but something inside her just wouldn't allow it.

"Oh god," Buffy could detect the glee in Dawn's voice, "the things she knows, it has to be. It's Buffy. I can't believe it!" Her face lit up brightly and she jumped on the couch beside her sister who suddenly felt like a squished sandwich. "I called you—I must have subconsciously known it was you." Dawn looked into her eyes and smiled reassuringly. She was looking at Buffy as if the mask of Drusilla didn't exist. "Can you breath? Are you breathing?" she asked eagerly.

"Am I whating?"

"What's it like, being a vampire? Buffy?"

Spike gently pulled Buffy's soldier so that the two of them were facing each other. He looked curious at first, studying her closely for what seemed like a whole minute. Then his expression turned to joy and disbelief. His voice came softly, almost a whisper. "Buffy, it's you isn't it?"

Buffy pulled away from his gaze, feeling a bit uncomfortable. "It's me," she announced smiling, "only in the body of your two hundred year old girlfriend. Lucky me." Buffy couldn't hide behind Drusilla's face anymore. She was exposed to Spike and could only wonder if he was reflecting over everything that had happened between them that night.

Dawn ran her fingers through Drusilla's Victorian hair style. It was combed back into a round ball at the top with long, straight strands falling down from it. "You also inherited the bumpy forehead and pointy teeth." As she spoke, Buffy scrambled to feel her face. "Not now," Dawn giggled, "I mean when you were fighting those demons."

"Oh, so that's what being a vampire is like. Huh, felt good."

"Well, it's safe to assume you're going to be on a blood diet. Until we can figure out what the bloody hell is going on," he gestured to the mug Buffy was holding, "Drink up."

"Are you kidding me? You're not making me drink this," Buffy rebelled. "I want a hamburger. A good old-fashioned, blood not included, hamburger."

Spike sighed and Buffy could sense a How-To-Be-A-Vampire lesson coming on. "Human food won't satisfy the craving. Eventually, you'll be wanting to grab someone by the neck—"

"You got that right," Buffy said putting down the cup. "Hamburger. Now."

"Hey Buffy, let's go home. I think those biker demons left town. I'll make you some pancakes, or French toast or – or spam! Spam sandwich, mmm, just as good as a hamburger," Dawn said holding Buffy's arm. "Oh and I'll call everyone over so you can see them! They'll be so happy to see you alive Buffy! It might take some getting used to, but we'll fix everything and things will be back to the way they were." She beamed with happiness as she wrapped her arms around Buffy and squeezed.

Buffy closed her eyes in the loving embrace and put a hand on her sister's shoulder. "Oh Dawn. You know I could never say no to spam." They exchanged smiles.

Spike gazed after them grinning. Buffy was alive, sitting on his couch. Why she looked like Drusilla he didn't know, but, in the end, he didn't care. She was in his world again tugging his emotions in every direction. She was all that mattered. Was his life going to get complicated and confusing? Probably. He was sure of one thing though: he was happy, the happiest he ever felt in his life.

There was a shuffling of feet outside and the three of them turned around to face the doorway. Several people were muttering, but the voices were too muffled to be recognized. A palm quickly banged on the door three times.

"Dawny you in there?"