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05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
12/23/16 01:12 pm
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10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!


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Authors Chapter Notes:
This story is complete and I will be posting 4 chapters a day. Because I'm kind of awesome. This was written a while ago, so it's in need of some work in my opinion, but I still LOVE this story and I hope you do too. Ok, before anyone says anything, I'm aware that the quotes I'm using from episode one of season six aren't verbatum, and there's a reason for that. I'm paraphrasing because it isn't necessary to use it word for word and I kind of hate that, unless it's an episode stealer, in this case, it is not. I refer to similar phrases, etc, but it's my story now so...y'know. There. So, this starts at the best moment in television history, when Spike and Buffy are in the living room and he's inspecting her hands. I skipped over the '147 days, 148 today' line, because we all know he says it. We all love that he says it, but I'm not saying it. What are YOU saying? Say what? Say you, say me. Say it together.

Spike sat on the coffee table across from Buffy, holding her hands gently. She looked so lost, so confused and she looked into his eyes as if pleading, wanting him to say something that would bring her comfort, but he didn’t know how. He was still in shock that she was here in front of him, alive. They said few words, barely over a whisper and he found himself taking in unneeded breaths, shaking. He didn’t know how she was here or why, but he felt more protective of her than ever. His Slayer, the woman who had more strength and courage than any man or demon he’d ever met was now drained of wit and fire and was nothing more than a frightened girl, scared and unable to meet his eyes again.

It was at that moment that Xander, Anya, Willow and Tara barged through the front door and broke the calm silence with screaming and shouting of her name. That’s when it hit him. They were the ones who brought her back. They knew, all this time, and they never told him. Buffy flinched at the noise and, though Spike wanted to stay with her, he knew his anger would be worse for her than if he left. Just to clear his head. Without acknowledging the group, he marched outside and slammed the door behind him. His fists clenched at his sides and he cracked his neck with a jerk of his head and walked to the large tree in the front yard and lit up a cigarette.

How? How could they do this?

He was a complete wreck, wrought with a million emotions. On one hand, he was elated that she was alive. She was back and he didn’t have to spend every waking hour fantasizing about how he could have saved her, because she was alive. But on the other, he was furious that they did this. Did it mean nothing to them? What she did, without even thinking of herself…she died for those bastards and this is how they repay her? To make her crawl her way through a bloody coffin, lost and alone, with no idea where she was or what had happened to her? The stupid witch never thought, never even questioned how she would be resurrected or where her body would be brought back. He knew all too well that feeling, how terrifying it was. To open your eyes to complete blackness and realize that you couldn’t move your body more than a few inches before the horrifying thought came crashing down that you’d been buried alive. But for Buffy, she was dead. And had been for months!

He lit another cigarette and fought back tears. He felt so awful for her, so sad that it was all for nothing. They wouldn’t understand, but he did. Being a creature of the dark, and even just being something with a higher purpose in life, whether it is to kill for the good or the bad, it all meant something. People like him and Buffy were to die fighting. Going out in a blaze of glory, for something bigger; that’s how it was supposed to end. And it was supposed to bloody mean something and the bastards took that away from her. How was she to go on, now?

Spike paced back and forth in the front yard and lost track of time. The pile of cigarette butts at his feet grew in numbers as he continually chain smoked, trying to collect himself. He heard Xander and Anya come outside and they walked towards him.

Xander stopped when he saw Spike and said, “What are you doing out here?” Spike just shook his head and laughed with indignation. “I hope you don’t think now that Buffy is back you can try to get in her pants, Evil Dead.”

Spike wanted nothing more than to grab his stupid face and twist it right off his head. How fucking dare he say this to him now? Not even giving him the pleasure of a response to that, he got as close to him as he could and said, “You knew! All this time, you knew and you din’ tell me!”

“Come on, Spike. Why the hell would we tell you?”

“I fought by your side all summer long! Together! How could you keep this from me?”

“Look, I appreciate all the ‘help’ you gave us this summer, but it doesn’t make you a part of the group. Buffy doesn’t care about you, and neither do we.”

Anya grabbed Xander’s arm, hoping to pull him back a notch. “Xander…”

“Look, whelp, see, I finally figured it out.” Spike’s eyes narrowed and he began pacing again, suddenly aware that his eyes were brimming with tears. “You knew there was a chance that she could come back wrong. An’ the witch knew that if I found out, I’d try an’ stop her.”

“What? Buffy’s fine! There’s nothing wrong with her.”

“Come on! Did you look at her? There is nothing right with her you stupid ponce!”


Buffy changed into a camisole and pajama pants and sat on her bed. She told everyone downstairs that she was tired, but that was a lie. She had to get away from them. It was too loud, too bright, too confusing and just…too much. She kept waiting for a moment when her mind would give her some clarity. Everything was still so muddled and hazy and she found it difficult to even speak confidently. Sure, she understood what people were saying at this point and could give short answers, but even doing something as simple as that proved to be more of a daunting task than she was comfortable admitting.

When Dawn showed her around the house earlier, that’s when everything started sinking in. She wasn’t dead, she was in her house and things were completely different. She wasn’t dead. She wasn’t dead. And, even though she was assured it wasn’t, she still thought she was in Hell. Buffy couldn’t think about that. All she could think about was where she had been before she woke up in a coffin. She finally had peace. She wasn’t a Slayer, she wasn’t a hero, and she wasn’t a friend or a sister or a daughter. She simply existed in warmth, love, and acceptance. There was no more evil, nor more hate, no more apocalypses or demons to fight, no lost loves or lonely nights, no more fears. Her stomach clenched at the realization that all of these things were going to come back to haunt her.

They would soon expect her to be strong, to fight for them. Hadn’t she done enough? Hadn’t she told Giles that after the fight with Glory, that she was done being a Slayer? That if these were the kinds of choices she’d have to make that she didn’t want to be one anymore? And, where was Giles? Sure, he could just take off and leave once she was dead. But Buffy had to be brought back. Even after death she wasn’t finished. She’d died twice now. Twice!

She suddenly felt suffocated and the air around her grew thick. She stood up and walked to the window by her bed, opening it slightly so get some fresh air. She closed her eyes, trying to remember where she came from. Trying desperately to hold on to the peace she felt just hours before, she decided that maybe there was an upside to all of this chaos. Even though her friends unknowingly ripped her from heaven, even though she had to start over again, that was just it. She could start over. Maybe this was a way for her to right the wrongs that bothered her before. Maybe she could share with them what she felt in heaven, or whatever heavenly dimension she came from. Maybe death was her gift, and now it made sense. She had to die to feel alive. But why did she feel so alone now? Why did she feel deader now than when she was actually six feet under ground?

It was then that she heard yelling coming from the front yard. She looked out the window and saw Xander screaming at Spike, accusing him of trying to ‘get into Buffy’s pants’. This has to stop. Now.

Opting not to change clothes, she exited her bedroom and slowly made her way down the stairs, hoping that Willow and Tara wouldn’t notice her. She cautiously opened the front door and slid outside. Xander was still going at it, chest puffed up and right in Spike’s face.

“You tell me that when you saw Buffy that that wasn’t the happiest moment of your undead life!”

Buffy shut the front door and stood on the porch, staring at them. When they heard the front door close, all three of them turned to look at her. She rubbed her arms as the cold hit her skin and she lazily walked down the steps towards them. She moved slowly, hypnotizing them with her movements. When Buffy finally stood between Spike and Xander, she grabbed both of their hands and said softly, “No. More. Fighting.” Xander lowered his head in shame and Spike just stared at her in complete amazement.

“I’m…I’m sorry Buff. We didn’t mean to wake you. Anya and I were about to leave and then we saw Captain Perox-“ she jerked his hand away and moved to face him, still gripping Spike’s hand tightly.

“Xander…No more.”

Anya linked her arm around her boyfriend’s shoulder and pulled him towards their car. “Come on, let’s leave Buffy alone, honey.” Xander looked at Buffy again, and then to Spike who was just as surprised as he was, and nodded in acceptance. “Right, we’ll…we’ll see you tomorrow.” She smiled softly at both of them and watched them leave.

She turned around to look at Spike and let go of his hand to rub her arms again. “You ok?” He just stared at her with a furrowed brow, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. She searched his eyes and saw the well of tears rimming his eye lids and felt compelled to comfort him. He had been so kind to her earlier and she didn’t understand why he looked sad now, because surely Xander didn’t have this affect on him. She hoped he wasn’t disappointed that she was here, or at least as disappointed as she was, but something in his piercing blue eyes told her that his pain wasn’t his own. Spike always had a way of knowing all about her feelings well before she was able to decipher them. Before Glory, she began to see glimpses of Spike that were tender and compassionate. Of course he would try to brush them off and put on a ‘Big Bad’ face to hide it, but it was there, plain as day. She couldn’t hold a grudge against him for being brought back from the dead. He didn’t know. He had no part of it and the guilt was all over his expression. He didn’t know and didn’t want her to feel this way. The fact that he didn’t made her feel…something strange. She wasn’t sure if she should think about that now, or what it even meant, but something about knowing that made her feel loved. And for the first time, it wasn’t half as scary as it used to be.

Spike was feeling uncomfortable with her staring at him. She wasn’t looking at him with hate; she wasn’t fighting with him, begging him to respond with their usual sarcastic banter. Hell, he had no idea why she was looking at him the way she was, but it was unnerving and he wished she’d just say something cruel and get it over with. He wished she’d punch him in the jaw to knock some sense into him; just do something violent to make him quit feeling like an utter ponce. But instead, she did something he’d never in a million years dream of. She lightly wrapped her arms around his waist beneath his duster and hugged him.

The Slayer, the Slayer…his enemy, a woman who hated his undead guts was embracing him, resting her cheek on his chest and whispering words of comfort…to him! He just stood there, with his arms dangling at his sides, petrified to touch her.

“It’s ok, Spike,” she whispered, and rubbed circles on his back with her hands gently. “I’m ok.” She wasn’t, but she felt that he needed to hear it. He let out a deep sigh and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, dropping his head forward to rest his cheek on her hair. He screwed his eyes shut and mercifully rocked her back and forth. They stood there for long moments, holding one another in the darkness. He didn’t know what got into her. He didn’t know what had happened to make this change in her, but he wasn’t about to take it for granted. Too long had he spent crying over her death, aching for her, begging the Powers That Be to take his life instead of hers. This was absolute bliss, an answer to his prayers that she was here in front of him and now she was embracing him and he couldn’t hold back his emotions any longer.

Buffy felt his body tense and then shudder. She pulled away slightly and looked up at him. He was crying. She reached up to brush a tear away from his cheek and he tried to avert her gaze. “Please don’t cry….please don’t.” Reluctantly, he broke away from her embrace and turned away from her, wiping his eyes.

“’m not cryin’.” He turned back around to face her and saw the look of concern on her face. “’m fine, Buffy. Really. Just…it’s a lot to take in, in’it?”

She nodded. “Yeah it is. But things are going to be different now.” She rubbed his arm, not wanting to break the connection.

“How’s that?” He pulled out another cigarette and lit it, hoping the distraction would get his mind back on track.

“Well, Xander’s not allowed to say those things to you anymore, for one, and I’m not in the mood to hear any bad mouthing from anyone. About you, I mean.”

Spike cocked his head to the side. “I appreciate it, but…think I can handle m’self, Slayer.” He was touched, to say the least, but he was the Big Bad after all. He didn’t need anyone defending him, even if hearing it from Buffy was music to his ears.

“I know you can, but I’m just tired of hearing it. You don’t deserve it.”

Well, if the PTB didn’t shock the hell out of him already, they were certainly taking Spike on a ride with that statement. She certainly wasn’t innocent on that end, having dished out a few ‘nice’ words herself at his expense, but he wasn’t going to jinx it by bringing it up. It was obvious she was trying to turn the other cheek and if that was the case, he’d do the same. However, all of this was really freaking him the fuck out and he had no idea how to deal with this. Pissy Buffy, he knew how to handle. Punching Buffy, he could take. But this softer side of her, this new side that was reaching out to him was so foreign that he could scarcely form words to accept it or keep it from continuing. He was sure at any moment she’d burst into laughter and say it was all a joke. “Buffy…”


He noticed goose bumps rising on her flesh. “You should get back inside. It’s freezin’ out here. Gonna catch your third death ‘f you don’.” He forced a smirk. She smiled at him and nodded.

“You’re probably right and it is kinda late.” She sighed, not really wanting to go into that house again, but she knew he was still uncomfortable being around her. “Well, I guess I’m gonna go in now.”

“Right. G’night, Slayer.” He swiftly turned around and made his way to his motorcycle before she stopped him.

“Spike?” He looked over his shoulder at her in response. “Do you think…” She licked her lips and shifted her weight from one foot to the other nervously. “Do you think that maybe we can talk later? In private? I mean, if you’re up for it, I know this is all kinda wiggy…” She looked so innocent, in her flannel pajama pants and her hair in a pony tail; so bloody adorable that it was all he could do to keep from grabbing her and kissing her right then and there. And, what? Huzzat? She wants to huh with the what?

“Anytime, pet. You know where I live.” He stood his bike upright and started the ignition. She smiled shyly at him as he peeled out of the drive. He felt better than he had in years and he was also scared shitless. What started off as a horrible evening, had taken a complete turn into something so full of hope that he could barely wrap his mind around it. He only feared that it was all a dream and that he’d wake up the next day and she’d still be gone forever.


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