"An Incredibly True Story of How They Brought Buffy Back (And Don't Let Joss Tell You Different)"
Author:
Vatrixsta Cruden
Contact: trixieangelsomething@hotmail.com
Notes: This is so very, very wrong. And just . . . utterly ridiculous. I thought about not even posting it, but Dru and Kaz said I should. < snicker > So it's all their fault.
Thanks: I don't know if 'thanks' is the right word, but to Dru and Kaz, for taking a look at it . . .
Dedication:
for Starla, 'cause she's bored < g > (and darling . . . CRAP)
To say it had been quite the spectacle wasn't giving it nearly the credit it deserved.
A large group of mourners had been gathered around the grave of Buffy Anne Summers. Some of them had driven a long way to attend, others had organized the impromptu wake from a magic shop.
One man had been plucked out of a rainforest in Brazil. He was only just now hearing of Buffy's death, even though she'd been in the ground for nearly three months.
No one was coping well; that was to be expected. Dawn still cried every day. Willow burst into tears at odd moments, and only Tara and Xander seemed able to soothe her. Anya snapped at people for no reason, then apologized herself into a stupor, explaining that 'grief manifests itself stressfully, and stress manifests itself in anger.' Xander tried to make everyone laugh, and every once in awhile, he succeeded. It made him feel good to help. Giles envied them all their ability to react. The only one he didn't envy, was Angel.
Angel's eyes were as dead as Buffy's Watcher's were. Although, at least Angel didn't have to face his own reflection in the mirror every day, to look into his own eyes and know that there was nothing he could have done to save her.
Perhaps Giles did envy Angel, after all.
Spike stood at Dawn's back and tried not to blubber along with her. He was a manly man, the incident over Buffy's broken body notwithstanding, and he wasn't about to tear up in front of this lot again. Especially not Captain Cardboard. Really, all he wanted was to have his chip taken out. If the chip was out, he could begin killing again, stop caring about these bleedin' human beings, and then all this god-awful pain would finally fucking cease.
'Course, he would have given up any hope of ever having the chip out if it meant Buffy would come back. That hardly seemed worth thinking, though, given that her body was already rotting, becoming one with the dirt beneath their feet.
Cordelia held Angel up, and Wesley held Cordelia up. For all her bluster, the seer had mourned Buffy as well as anyone. Theirs had always been a strained relationship, deeply rooted in competition and jealousy, each desperately wanting what the other had, each blaming the other for what they themselves weren't . . .well, we'll just say that Cordelia and Buffy had a more complicated relationship than anyone -- themselves included -- ever knew, and leave it at that, because this story isn't really about their relationship and it's only a vignette and we really can't waste the time pondering whether Buff and Cordy were pals deep down inside, okay?!
Where was I?
Oh, right, weird, strange, amazing thing. Right. Okay, so they're all gathered around Buffy's grave, Riley's probably the most shell-shocked of them all, 'cause, you know, he didn't know.
(And no, it does NOT matter why they all decided to gather around Buffy's grave three months later. Do I have to think of everything? What am I, the author? Use your freakin' imagination.)
Anyway, so remember what Spike was thinking about what he'd give up if only Buffy would come back? Well, it turns out Giles was having the same kind of thought. He was thinking about how he'd give up his own life if it meant bringing her back, he was thinking about how he wished he could have died for her, back on the platform.
And here's the thing: Dawn was thinking similar thoughts. She was thinking about how she'd never complain about being a Key, never think about how she wasn't 'normal' again if only Buffy would come back.
And if only Buffy would come back, Willow swore she'd figure out how she can be gay, and yet still attracted to men. And Xander would never eat another ho-ho again. Cordelia promised to never call Buffy any other name but =Buffy=, and Wesley quietly vowed to permanently eject his pompous attitude.
Tara and Anya were, coincidentally enough (and no, I'm not grouping them together here because I forgot to include them in the original draft, and upon rereading I realized they weren't there. Where'd you get a crazy idea like THAT?!), were both thinking about their behavioral patterns: Anya thought that she'd give up all the money she'd ever made if it would bring Buffy back, and Tara vowed to finally figure out just who her character was supposed to be.
Riley thought that he'd never ask Buffy for more than she could give again, and Angel . . .well, Angel had been making side deals in his head with the PTB since the moment he saw Willow's sad, haunted eyes in the lobby of the Hyperion. So it wasn't all that strange that Angel had been thinking how meaningless his shanshu seemed in the face of losing Buffy when it happened.
Rain wasn't that odd an occurrence in Sunnydale. Rain in August, however, was very much out of the norm. Everyone feared some kind of hellmouthy evil infringing upon their weepy-poor-us-pity-party, especially when the sky literally opened up and a bright white light shot straight down into the earth at their feet.
Left in that light's wake, however, was Buffy, naked, curled into a fetal ball, and shivering.
Giles dropped dead on the spot.
Angel had snapped out of the paralysis that had overcome them all first. He'd stripped his coat off, wrapped Buffy in it, and lifted her into his arms. Before the rest of them had been able to process his intent, he'd spirited her away.
The house on Revello was closest, so he took her there, grateful, for the first time, that Dawn had been unable to take Buffy's room apart.
"Angel."
That was the first word Buffy spoke. Angel was barely able to hold onto her as he sprinted up the stairs of her home. The sound of his name on her lips was so joyously shocking he nearly tripped.
He reached her room and set her down on the bed. He turned to find her some clothes, but her hand snaked out and grasped his tightly, twining their fingers together. She pulled, and he came closer, stood between her legs as she wrapped her arm around his waist. He brought his hand to her head and cradled it gently, going down on his knees so he could look her in the eye.
"You went away," he whispered, brushing the damp hair away from her face.
"But I came back," she croaked. "I came back to you. To all of you, but especially to you."
Unable to resist the pull between them, given the heightened nature of their reunion, Angel bent forward and covered her mouth with his own. Her tongue eagerly pushed against his lips, and soon they were devouring one another, engaged in a serious make-out session the likes of which they hadn't partook of since before they learned of the loophole in the curse.
"We can't," Angel whispered suddenly, breaking contact with her. He stood, but found himself unable to move. The look in her eyes held him prisoner. That, and the circulation ceasing (assuming he had circulation, which he didn't, but that's not really the point, okay, it's just a freakin' descriptive turn of phrase. Jeez, get off my back.) grip she had on his arm.
"It's okay," she cooed, pulling him down with her to her bed. "I can't explain how I know, I just . . . " Her eyes filled with tears. "Trust me?"
"Always," he whispered, giving into her none-too-gentle tugging. "With my life," he added, his hand taking liberal passes at her skin beneath his coat, "with my heart, with everything I am." (And so on, and so forth -- Angel gets kinda blubbery when he's getting physical with Buff, but I think you all get the picture.)
Meanwhile, back at the gravesite . . .
No one had yet moved. Buffy and Angel were making the beast with two backs, and the assembled Scoobs and Bat Packers had yet to notice that Giles croaked. All except for Dawn. Being the Key, her ability to recover from shock was much stronger than the others, and she dashed back to her house, raced up the stairs, flung open her sister's door . . . and promptly wrenched her gaze away from the sight before her.
Back down the stairs she hurried, so intent to force the image she'd just witnessed from her mind that she ran straight into Xander's chest.
"Woah, Dawnmeister, slow down--"
"Oh, God, it's horrible!" she cried.
"What?" Willow asked, moving to stand beside Xander.
"They're doing it."
"Doing what?"
"It!" Dawn screeched. "What other 'it' is there when someone says they're doing IT."
"No. They wouldn't. Buffy and Angel are much too sensible for--"
"Scarred for life over here," Dawn reminded him. "I'm unfortunately a hundred percent positive of what I just witnessed."
"Well . . . you know, maybe it's nothing. Maybe they just needed a good shag, and nothing'll come of it." Spike sounded like he was trying to convince himself, more than them. (Not to mention it's really hard to parody Spike. He's almost a walking parody as it is, what with the being hopelessly in love with the Slayer, can't kill, yet doesn't really have a soul thing going for him . . . it just seems too cruel to poke fun.)
"Hello! Perfect happiness? Buffy's alive and Angel's doing her! It doesn't get more perfect than that in his world!" Thus declaring, Cordelia did an about face and stormed up the stairs, the assembled Scooby Gang and L.A. contingent (Am I the only one who gets really tired of figuring out an abbreviated way of describing Angel's crew? I mean, Buffy's people, it's easy -- SG. They've been so dubbed by his almighty wondrousness, The Great And Powerful Wizard of Id, Da Man, Devil Monkey Bad Acid Boy himself - but whatever shall we call the . . . see?!) fast at her heels.
She tried to barge through Buffy's bedroom door, only to find it locked.
"Maybe I wasn't as undetected as I thought," Dawn said sheepishly.
"Or maybe they heard Florence Nightengale over here shrieking from downstairs," Xander threw in.
"Willow!" Florence herself barked. "Orb of Thesula."
"Right. I think Buffy actually keeps one around. You know, for . . . "
"Why?" Riley asked suspiciously.
"Just in case," Willow said in a small voice, before she turned and headed back down the stairs.
"I have confidence in Angel," Wesley said suddenly. "However far things have progressed, I've no doubt he'll regain his head and put a stop to it before--"
A decidedly ecstatic, high-pitched scream that might have been trying to form the name 'Angel' was heard, followed by something akin to a snarling growl.
The springs on the bed began to squeak louder, and with more frequency.
"Anything else to add, Wesley?" Cordelia said in a snippy tone of voice.
"No, I do believe I'm quite done," he said stiffly. "Where is Ms. Rosenberg with the orb?"
Willow returned with the orb in no time flat, but the moaning, groaning, squeaking, creaking sounds from behind the door continued for hours. Eventually, everyone got bored with awaiting the inevitable doom about to befall them, and they wandered off into other parts of the house.
Anya busied herself at Dawn's computer, shrieking in horror when her Charles Schwab account informed her that all her investments had inexplicably bottomed out into the negative column.
Hungry, Xander wandered into the kitchen. He stopped at the cupboard, and reached for a ho-ho -- then stopped himself. They were suddenly repulsive. His torment lasted only a few breathless seconds, however, because he immediately spotted the Twinkies and all was right with the world.
Willow and Tara snuck into Joyce Summers' bedroom and began fooling around. As Willow thrust against Tara's hand, she screamed in orgasmic bliss, "Oh! I'm bi-sexual!" Tara, relieved that Willow finally noticed, climbed up the bed and kissed her lover soundly. She also realized, with a profound sense of relief, that her place on the canvas was relatively simple after all -- she was here to love Willow. And that she could do easily.
Cordelia began ranting to Wesley. "And that -- that -- Buffy. She's got her hooks into Angel again. Little Ms. "Ooo, I'm a Strong Witch Now" may not be sweating Angelus' return, but they were never as close to him as we are now. Buffy should have way more sense than this! Doesn't she get that playing with Angel the WAY she's playing with Angel is like playing with fire?! She's such a little . . . .you know . . .=Buffy=."
"I don't think it's our place to judge them," Wesley replied while Cordelia took deep breaths in-between tirades.
Determined to give Buffy everything he had in him, and expect nothing in return, Riley left the house so she could have sex with another man. He wandered around town and was killed horribly by a pack of a dozen vampires who remembered him from his Vampire Whore Suckin' T days. He died quickly, but he had a pure intent in his . . . you know, I just can't even do it. I hate Riley. I don't want to give him character motivation or anything else for that matter. He's dead. I'm happy. This is already the worst fic ever written, and I refuse to devote more time to it than I already have. Onward:
Spike, having put two and two together, and realizing that everyone had bargained with the Powers to bring Buffy back (he's not a dim as he looks, our Spike) began to curse up a storm as he remembered exactly what he'd been thinking at the time of the Slayer's resurrection. Spike was nothing if not resilient, though, and he made mental note to talk to Willow about re-attaching the Buffy-Bot's head.
Dawn tried to work herself up into a good, guilty froth -- after all, if she hadn't been the Key, Buffy wouldn't have died, and if Buffy hadn't of died, she wouldn't have been resurrected, and if she hadn't been resurrected, she and Angel wouldn't be having nasty/tender/desperate/loving/animalistic (please circle whichever type of smut you prefer for B/A and engage your imagination) reunion sex right then. However, Dawn only felt like a normal girl, and with a shrug, she decided to plop down on the couch and paint her toenails until the end of the world came.
It didn't, of course. Come. Buffy came, Angel came, Willow and Tara even came, but the end of the world didn't, and there was no Angelus to torture them. Buffy and Angel were locked upstairs for several more hours, and when they finally emerged, everyone dogpiled on Buffy and welcomed her home.
Everyone except for Giles, of course, because he was still dead (They have to give Anthony Stewart Head time off SOMEHOW) and no one had really noticed yet.
Now, come this fall, you'll see a much different version of events play out on TV. Do not be fooled. This is how it really happened. What you will see Monday's on the WB and Tuesday's on UPN (Don't even get me STARTED on THAT) is actually an elaborate ruse our wacky band of evil-fighters have concocted to throw the evil Joss Whedon, Marti Noxon, Tim Minear, David Greenwalt et al off the scent.
You see . . .
< looks around, lowers voice >
All the characters live out their lives on their own terms when they're not on camera.
I KNOW! I couldn't believe it when I first heard, either! (Serena actually wrote a fic with that very premise -- 'Free Time.' You should like, totally check it out.)
But it's true. How else do you explain fanfic? How else do you explain a thousand different theories and explanations for every situation our heroes are thrown into, no matter how seemingly insignificant the deviation?
Somewhere, Buffy and Angel are sunbathing on a beach because Angel never got the Oracles to turn him back. That is, when they're not living as children of the night because Angel couldn't stop himself from draining Buffy during 'Graduation Day' and he turned her, rather than see her truly dead. Thank the Gods that Slayers retain possession of their souls, eh?
In some world, Willow and Xander are humping like bunnies because that vampire never attacked at the beginning of 'When She Was Bad' and Xander got to lick Willow's face clean. No doubt that was how Wishverse Xander and Willow started out.
Darla died peacefully as a human being with Angel by her side because they weren't stupid enough to go back to HER MOTEL ROOM where ANYONE could find them. Riley was tragically killed by The Gentlemen in 'Hush' and was therefore unable to EVER nakedly gyrate against Buffy, thus causing legions of fans 'round the world to gouge their own eyes out, just to make the burning stop.
Giles and Jenny were married after she successfully restored Angel's soul in 'Passion' and Oz avoided that nasty werewolf bite because he and Angel became friends during 'Innocence', you know, because the gypsy curse never had that loophole in it to begin with.
Angelus Sired Spike, they ditched the loony broads, and went on a smutty, wild romp 'cross the whole bleedin' European countryside. Then, in Romania, they were both cursed with their human souls. What happens next? I dunno. I'm not really that into slash. But a lot of you are, and that's what counts.
So don't fret. No matter what happens, come the Fall, the only real, honest to god, true resolution to the whole thing is the one that goes the strongest, and burns the brightest:
The one that exists in your mind.
Denial: It's not just a river in Egypt -- it's the gateway to perfect happiness.
But unfortunately, Giles will still be dead.
The End