Part 5

"Is it weird being back?"

Willow tried to sound cheerful, like Buffy had just been away on a vacation instead of, well, being dead. Several weeks had passed since Buffy's return. This little excursion to the Bronze was her first time out of the house. Willow remembered how weak and confused her friend had been. Willow wanted to turn Spike into a rat after she'd heard the details of what he’d done to Buffy. Having her drink his blood?!? The Codex didn't say anything about that! Besides, blood-drinking, that was just . . . ewwww. Well, unless you were Spike. After she'd finished berating the newly non-torpored vampire they all watched as Giles held a mirror up to Buffy's face. Thankfully there was a reflection. Buffy also passed the crucifix, holy water, and sunrise tests with flying colours. Whatever Spike had done, it had worked. Buffy was back.

Buffy took a sip and swirled the hot, bitter liquid around in her mouth before swallowing. Sometimes the little pleasures were the most profound. She attempted a small smile. "Yeah. I mean I don't remember what it was like . . . where I was. I just remember . . . well." Buffy broke off uncomfortably. She remembered drinking blood from Spike's wrist. She remembered everything about that. "It's just weird having his memories and Dawn's memories swirling around in my head." She looked down at her coffee mug and watched the cream swirl around its surface. "I feel how much he wanted to kill me."

"Creepy," Xander chimed in.

Buffy nodded in agreement. "It is. But I also know how much he loved me. Loves me. I know he'd never do anything to hurt Dawn or me. But I guess I knew that already, before I . . . um." She broke off suddenly, unable to articulate what had really happened to her, what she'd done.

Willow sighed. Time to change the subject. "So what about Doc? You said you heard his voice?"

Buffy's heart began to race. Doc. She knew he had something to do with her re-appearance in the land of the living. "All I know is right before I came back, I heard someone . . . I . . . know it was him."

Xander laughed derisively. "Why can't he just stay dead? That's a really annoying quality."

Buffy looked at him.

Xander cleared his throat. "I ran a sword right through his snake-demony little heart, you know?"

"Yeah, I threw him from that tower, and somehow he still managed to taunt me in the afterlife." Buffy tried to banter, but her heart wasn't in it. "Spike knew him before. Before that night I mean."

Xander picked up a sugar packet and shook it violently before dumping it in his coffee. "Yeah, Dawn fessed up about the whole plan to resurrect your mom. Spike felt real bad about that. Said he didn't know Doc was such a baddie. He'd just heard that Doc knew some dark mojo."

"Spike felt real bad about everything after you . . . after that night with Glory. He thought it was all his fault." Willow paused. "He looked horrible. Stopped eating. Stopped bleaching!"

"That's the thing," Buffy's voice shook slightly. "I don't just know it, I feel it. I feel Dawn's pain too. What she felt that night. How she felt about me as a sister." A small laugh escaped from her lips. "I was a real bitch to Dawn sometimes, wasn't I? And to Spike . . ."

"Sweetie." Willow squeezed Buffy's shoulder. "You were wonderful with Dawn after your mother died. Don't blame yourself. You sacrificed everything for her. And Spike . . . well, the change was so drastic. One day he was chains boy the next he was taking the torture for you."

Buffy looked directly into Willow's eyes. "At least I forgave him at the end. And he knew it before I died."

Died.

The word hung there. Everyone took another sip of their coffee.

***

Buffy walked home from the Bronze. She wanted to be alone and the six-block walk was a perfect opportunity to gather her thoughts. She considered the setting sun. It was beautiful, but it hurt her eyes. Too bright. Yes, she was back from the dead. Yes, her former mortal enemy was the one who'd brought her back, who was in her house right now, probably playing PlayStation with Dawn. Thank goodness for Willow and her forgetting spells. As far as Child and Family Services were concerned, she'd never been gone. That was one less thing to worry about at least. Now she just had to think about being a mother. And getting a job. Slaying didn't really pay the bills. And she had to think what to do about Spike.

No, she really didn't need to think about Spike. Not any more than was absolutely necessary. Of course she was grateful. But it was unsettling to know exactly how he felt about her. He worshipped her. To quote him, that was a boatload of responsibility to come her way. To be worshipped like that. . . what if she disappointed him? What if he saw how she looked in the morning? What if he found out that she wasn't as sure and strong as she seemed?

Why was she worrying about him finding out how she looked in the morning? Like he was ever going to see that. Right?

Right.

What if he found out about her dreams?

He said there was darkness in her. He knew it. He sensed it. He loved it.

He was right.

She remembered drinking his blood.

She licked her lips, remembering the power of his life force flowing through her, ebbing from him. The look of peace . . .

She brushed by a woman on the street. As she passed, Buffy could hear the blood rushing through the woman's veins.

She wasn't the same. She would never be the same.

She had been dead. But now she was back.

Sometimes she hated herself. What made her so special?

It was almost dark now. She'd walked around the block several times before going up to the door of her house. Her house. Not her mother's house. Her house. A single tear escaped from beneath Buffy's lashes, as she dug in her purse for her keys. She'd told Spike to lock the door. Can't be too careful, right?

Her key was poised at the lock, when it swung open.

"Buffy?"

"Spike."

***

Buffy put the keys on the table. "Dawnie?"

"Yeah?"

Dawn cracked her gum and hugged her sister. She hugged Buffy a lot lately. "Spike and I were just . . ." she gestured to the paused videogame on the television.

"Have you done your homework yet?"

Dawn nodded. "Yup. We've been good Buffy. Spike even helped. He knows stuff."

Buffy smirked. "Besides murder and mayhem?"

Spike's face fell, but he didn't respond.

"Bitchy much? Anyway, it was my poetry assignment. Spike's good at that too."

Buffy continued to smirk. "Yeah, I know about that . . . William."

Spike ignored her and ruffled Dawn's hair. "Well Little Bit. Must be off now. Sun's almost down." He considered Buffy, not really wanting to leave. "Did you have a nice coffee?"

"It was caffeinated. It was a beverage."

Silence.

"Right then. See you later Niblet. Nice earrings by the way."

Dawn laughed. "Mm hmmm."

Buffy shook her head and headed into the kitchen to make dinner. "You should really return them to Anya."

"This sucks!" Dawn shrieked in dismay. "You know everything now don't you?"

Buffy turned on the garbage disposal.

"Sorry she's such a bitch Spike. Anyway, see you tomorrow."

"Absolutely." Spike looked in the direction of the kitchen. "Bye Buffy. See you later? Patrol?"

No answer.

"Bye Niblet. Be good."

She laughed. "I'm always good Spike."

***

The noise of the Backstreet Boys blared from Dawn's room. Buffy sighed as she cleared her sister's schoolwork from the table. "Dawn, turn it down please."

Now it was Dawn's turn not to answer.

Buffy glanced at the piece of paper in her hand. Dawn's poetry assignment . . . a sonnet. Suggestions were scribbled in the margin in an unfamiliar, florid hand. Poetry was interesting. And these suggestions seemed good. "I guess the Bloody Awful Poet learned a few tricks over the years," she whispered.

Slowly she sank down in a chair, considering the old-fashioned sweep of his script. Why was she such a bitch to him? She knew with every word, with every silence she hurt him. Why did she do it?

At least he'd taken care of his hair. Wonder where vamps went to get their hair done? He made fun of Angel, but honestly Spike was just as . . .

The phone rang.

"I'll get it!" Dawn called from upstairs.

How could she even hear the phone through all that crap?

"Buffy, it's for you. He's British! Very upper-crusty."

Buffy suddenly felt tired. She picked up the phone and answered. "Hello? Yes, Quentin, I have time to talk to you."

End of Part Five

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