Title: Again

Rated: PG-13

Summary: Buffy comes back, but finds that the world has changed since she left.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss, UPN, and the WB own everything. The standard ‘please don’t sue me’ is requested.

Special Thanks: To Haley, Karen, and Jennifer. They help me a lot and everyone that enjoys this story should thank them. And to all the people who review. Hearing from you guys just makes my day.

AN: Okay, I’m done depressing you people for now. Also, I feel I should make something clear about the last story; if it sounded a lot like a mixture of seasons 5, 6, and 7, it was supposed too. That was kind of my way of writing in the cannon in a round about way; you know, kind of like fate. So, now that that is cleared up, on with the story.

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Part 1: The Return

She didn’t know how she got here - she didn’t even know where here was - but she did know that she wasn’t afraid. In fact, she didn’t feel any fear or doubt or pain. It was like the only thing this place would allow her to feel was peace. She might not have known what here was supposed to be, but to her it was…perfect.

“I know de feelin’,” a distinct Jamaican voice said from beside her.

Buffy turned quickly on her heels and found her old slayer comrade, Kendra, standing there. The once hard core slayer had the same peaceful glow about her that the whole place had, and her soft white gown seemed to flow around her. But the one thing that Buffy became fixed on was the gentle, warm smile on the girl’s face.

“Kendra?” the blonde slayer squeaked, surprised that her voice was indeed working.

“Hello, Buffy,” she answered, the smile never wavering.

Scanning her eyes over her fellow slayer, Buffy waited a moment then stumbled forward and wrapped her arms around Kendra’s neck for a tight hug. Surprisingly, the girl, who had once been so stand-offish to the blonde, returned the gesture with a much lighter touch.

“It’s good to see you, too,” the Jamaican said.

Buffy pulled away first but kept her hands resting on Kendra’s bare upper arms. “I thought-I thought I’d never see you again,” Buffy said, feeling as if she might cry and laugh at the same time. But the bright smile that had been etched on her face quickly fell when she realized what it meant for her to be able to see the other slayer again. “I’m…dead,” she stated in an unbelieving tone. “Aren’t I?”

Kendra’s smile faded a little, but didn’t loose any of its kindness or warmth. “Yes. You died.”

The statement hit the blonde hard as she realized what that meant. She was dead. That meant she had left her mom and Dawn again. She had left her friends to protect the Hellmouth. She had left Dylan; she wouldn’t get to see her baby grow up or go off to school or get married and have babies of her own. She would never get to see Spike again. Even with the soul, he was still a vampire, and vampires went to hell. With her dying, she was going to miss so much and so many people.

A tear rolled down her cheek and Buffy gave a sniffle as she quickly pushed it away. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be able to cry in heaven,” she said with another sniffle.

“Ya don’t,” Kendra agreed. “Dat’s why we’re not dere.”

With wide eyes, Buffy exclaimed, “You don’t mean we’re in-!”

Kendra chuckled softly. “No. You’d know if you were dere. Dis place,” she said, turning away from Buffy and lightly waving her arms about for illustration, “is what is know as De Between, or Limbo if you like. It’s de stop-over dey used to use for people on deir way to heaven.”

“I don’t understand. If I’m dead, what am I doing here?”

Buffy’s fellow slayer’s smile widened once more before she ordered, “Come with me.”

Unconsciously, Buffy began to walk in pace with the Jamaican slayer who was leading her further and further into the whiteness that seemed to completely surround them. It felt strange now that she was moving through it. That peaceful calm was still there, but fascination and the sense of being small were also starting to creep in. From where she stood, Buffy could see no being or end to the bright white that was The Between, as Kendra had called it.

Something began to take shape up ahead, and it looked like a pair of pillars. There was nothing particularly special about them, yet they had a beauty that Buffy couldn’t describe. Kendra paused in front of them then looked over at the blonde beside her.

“You see, Buffy, dere’s been a mistake made.”

“A mistake?”

Kendra drew in a short breath and let it out quickly before continuing. “Yes. Dings dat were supposed to happen later happened much sooner and dings had to be pushed around to accommodate dem.”

Buffy drew her eyebrows together as she considered what the other slayer was telling her. “What do you mean, ‘had to be pushed around’? Are you telling me I’m not supposed to be dead?”

Sighing, the Jamaican tried to explain. “Dings were changed, but I don’t know why. See, you and de vampire were supposed to stay in Sunnydale and fight Glory. You were supposed to die den for de Key. But you’re not meant to stay dead; dere is still more for you to do. De witch was meant to bring you back and de next year was goin’ to be one of de worst of your life, but it had some important out comes. De vampire was still meant to get his soul for you and de witch was still meant to go bad and come back. But someding happened and fate had to change and make way for her.”

Buffy drew in a sharp breath knowing who had caused the change. “Dylan.”

“She wasn’t supposed to come until later, when dey felt you were ready to be de mother dey thought you should be.”

“Well I’m sorry I’m not the parent they expected,” the blonde said insulted.

“On de contrary, dey dink dat you’re a wonderful mother, but it still doesn’t mean dat dey can just change fate all together. Dey only made one exception for dat. Your mother. She was supposed to die from de cancer, but with you gone, she was still needed to take care of de Key. She is allowed to live now because de child still needs her because you’re not dere.”

Buffy just stood there for a moment, staring at the woman before her. Kendra had just basically told her that if she would have stayed in Sunnydale, not only would she have died, but her mother would have too. But who would have taken care of Dawn?! Who would have protected the Hellmouth?! Drawing in a deep breath, Buffy realized that Lang had actually done two things that she was grateful for. She had given Buffy her daughter and now, apparently, saved her mother’s life.

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because you needed to understand what a gift you have been given before we send you back.”

The blonde’s head snapped up at that. “You’re sending me back?”

“Yes. De witch was supposed to do it, but since she no longer has her powers, it is up to us den.”

Buffy felt her face start to brighten. She was going back! She was going to get to see her family and friends. She was going to get to see Dylan grow up. She was going to get to throw her arms around Spike’s neck and tell him how much she loved him.

“You know, you wouldn’t want to go back if dey let you into heaven instead of sendin’ you here,” Kendra told her. “But dey said dey don’t have time for you getting back to where you were before. Dey said you would be needed too soon for dat.”

That didn’t sit well with the slayer. “I don’t understand.”

“You will,” the Jamaican girl assured her. “Now, to put dings close to where dey should have been, time will have passed since you left. It can’t be helped.”

“That’s okay. I can handle a little jet lag.”

“Dere’s someding else,” Kendra told her quietly. “You won’t remember bein’ here or what I’ve told you. You’ll know it, deep down, but dey say it will just be easier dat if you don’t remember.”

“But-“

“No buts, Buffy,” she warmed firmly before stepping forward and giving the returning slayer a hug. Buffy was going to miss her; she had always liked Kendra, but at least this time she was getting to say goodbye. “Now, step through dose pillars and go back to where you belong.”

The blonde slayer held on for a moment longer, then pulled away to where the girls were looking each other in the face. “Bye, Kendra.”

“Goodbye, Buffy. Take good care of dat little girl.”

The soft smile that Kendra had been wearing since her arrival crept onto Buffy’s face as she started the way that had been pointed out. “I will.”

**********

Cool grays and blues were welcoming the morning sun as he walked along the cliff side. This was really all he could remember from his days in the sun, this single image of the cliffs of Dover that he spent many a morning on during the summers of his youth. He glanced over and could make out the shore of France in the distance, but they would be able to see the English side much better, thanks to the large white cliffs of chalk. Far below, the waves were crashing into one another and the jagged rocks, which were accented by the calls of birds high overhead.

She sat near the cliff’s edge, watching the country across the strait that was greeting the sun that had yet to break the horizon. Her wavy blond hair fell softly on her shoulders and back as she held her curled up knees close to her chest. The white, cotton dress hung loose on her, making it look almost like the robes angels wore in Renaissance paintings.

He smiled as he silently approached her from behind, his hands dug deeply into his trouser pockets.

“You never told me it was so beautiful here,” Buffy accused, pushing the stray blond hairs that were dancing in the wind behind her ear.

“Glad you like it, love,” he said as he came and sat down beside her.

“We should’ve brought Dylan with us,” she mused aloud before frowning deeply at the thought. “No. I guess it was good we left her at home. She probably would have jumped over the cliff or something.”

Spike chuckled as he leaned back into the grass and looked out over the strait. “She is a bit curious,” he agreed before raising a hopeful eyebrow at her. “Maybe the next one won’t be?”

Buffy laughed at him like he had lost his mind. “Next one?! Oh, no, there’s not going to be a next one, unless you want to be the one to get fat and have swollen feet and get sick every morning for months. But as for this,” she said patting her flat stomach, “it’s not for rent.”

He continued to smirk at her, knowing full well how much she liked being a mommy. She might talk like she didn’t want to have anymore children, but, if she was given the chance, she would jump at it. Of course, he wasn’t sure if they could have anymore anyway. Dylan was prophesied, and they hadn’t seen anything about another one. Still, it was fun to think about.

She was still laughing softly when she pulled her hand away from her stomach, but the mirth died quickly as she looked at her hand. Spike sat up in alarm when he saw that it was covered in blood, her blood. Buffy looked at him with horrified, bewildered eyes before collapsing backwards onto the dark, carpeted floor of the principal’s office. He scrambled across the floor, and lifted her head into his lap.

“Buffy,” he said, trying to keep her awake. “Please, love.”

“Why didn’t you stop him?” she asked in a weak voice. “Why didn’t you save me?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t change it,” the slayer bit. “Sorry won’t let me see Dylan grow up. It was your fault. You should have stopped him when you had the chance.”

With a gasp, Spike sat up straight in bed as the nightmare slowly began to fade into nothing but distorted images and darkness. He hated those bloody dreams, and, at the same time, he loved them. It was easy to understand why he hated them; seeing her die before his eyes still hurt worse than any torture that Angelus could dream up to inflicted on his smart-mouth grandchilde.

But he loved them because, if only for a short while, she was there with him again. He could feel her, smell her vanilla scented shampoo; hell, he could touch her if he wanted. And she always looked so happy, right up to the moment when she realized she was bleeding and they would once again find themselves on the principal’s office floor.

He drew in a deep, unneeded breath and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will away the last of the images. Why did the last one always have to be her eyes, her hateful eyes at his failure?

“Sorry, love,” he said to no one as he pulled off the comforter and got up for another day.

Late afternoon light filtered through a thick pair of curtains in the living room while he shuffled to the kitchen. While yawning, he felt his foot come into contact with something soft, warm, and fuzzy that let out a cry from being kicked before a solid black streak took off into the kitchen. Dawn, who was sitting at the table trying to feed a cranky toddler, looked up at the sound just as the cat jumped up into the window sill, turned to Spike and hissed with all its fur standing on end.

“Serves you right for sleepin’ in the middle of the bloody floor,” the vampire said to the cat before heading over to the cabinet and retrieving a coffee cup. As he poured the black liquid, he went on, “And I wouldn’t be hissin’ at me, else you’ll be findin’ yourself sleepin’ outside from now on.”

“Well, aren’t we Mr. Ball Of Sunshine this afternoon,” Dawn said, finally being able to shove a spoonful of mush into the kid’s mouth. The child then proceeded to spit half of it back out, only for it to be caught by the waiting spoon or bib.

“It’s still mornin’ for some of us, bit,” he pointed out, sipping his coffee. “And what’s he doin’ ‘ere?”

Dawn rolled her eyes as she continued to feed James. “Mrs. Montello had to run to the store and asked me to watch him,” she explained.

“And of course you said yes,” Spike sighed, placing the coffee on the counter. “I swear, Niblet. Does it look like this is a bleedin’ daycare center?”

“Well, with the number of toys Dylan has lying around…” Dawn answered with a smile. “Besides, you know you love having kids around.”

“Correction. I love havin’ one kid around, mine. I tolerate Harris’ spawn and Wolf Boy Jr.”

“Oh, please. If those kids ever needed anything, you wouldn’t hesitate to help,” she accused with a laugh. The young woman suddenly became very interested in the baby before her again as she said, “Speaking of the kids…They called again today.”

“Not again,” Spike groaned.

Nodding her head slightly, Dawn continued on quietly. “They want to see you as soon as possible.”

“Why can’t you or the Watcher go?”

“Because they insisted on you this time. They’re waiting as we speak.”

He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he leaned back on the counter and looked up at the ceiling. This had all the signs of being a really, really bad day.

**********

Collin Williams stood outside of the Principal Wood’s office, the radio he had resting on the portable garbage bin blasting the Eagles as he vacuumed up the itchy, cheap carpet. He had been on the janitorial staff for nearly ten years now, not that that was something to brag about. However, when at least two members of the staff die every year under ‘mysterious’ circumstances, along with a quarter of the school’s population, it does say something about his survival skills.

He had one simple rule that he had learned long ago. If you see something strange, turn around and go the other way. Do not investigate it. That only leads to certain death or disappearance. No, the best thing to do was runaway and come back later to clean up the blood or dust or the occasional goo.

“Get over it,” he sang, dancing along with the music as he pushed the vacuum across the floor. “Get over it. All this whiny, and crying, and pitching a fit. Get over it.”

With his back to the office door, he began to sing along to the next verse, when a strange bright light filled the room for a moment then died. Collin paused as the song continued, wondering if it could have been lightning. The air did smell charged, like it had struck nearby. But wouldn’t there be thunder?

Then there was another strange thing to consider. The lightning had come from behind him, from inside the principal’s office.

The janitor turned slightly and looked down at the rusty gold doorknob. Stick to the plan, a part of him yelled. It was weird, that means if you look inside, you’re dead.

Still, he was always running in the other direction. Just for once, he would like to know what he was running from. What if was nothing? What if it was an electrical surge? If it had been, he really should report it. But he wouldn’t know unless he looked.

With a trembling hand, he reached down, took the knob, and turned it. Slowly, he pushed the door open, and peeked inside the relatively dark room. Twilight was the only source of light, but clearly showed a young woman lying in the middle of the floor. She looked like she was in her early twenties, and was wearing a peasant shirt. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen one of those.

The young woman groaned, causing Collin to catch and hold his breath. He considered running for a moment, but she was just some little girl. Hell, he thought he could take her if he had too, but, the question was, did he really want to try.

She lifted her head, and looked around the room, confusion etched on her face. Confusion bleed into panic as her senses came back to her and she began to desperately search for something.

“Spike?” she said, twisting around on the floor. “Dawn?”

Collin shifted the weight on his feet, causing the floor to squeak. The young woman’s head shot up to him at the sound, and Collin froze, his hand still glued to the doorknob. They stared at one another, looking as if the other didn’t belong.

Finally, Collin was able to push out a sound from his throat. “I’ll come back later,” he said, before shutting the door and running as fast as he could the other way.

**********

Buffy sat on the floor, trying to figure out what was going on. There was so much she didn’t remember, so many things that didn’t make any since. Everything from the past couple of days seemed to be jumbling together. She could remember Giles in her kitchen…Oz?...something being wrong with Willow…Dylan…and this intense sense of danger, but nothing clear.

No, that wasn’t true. She remembered Spike saying he loved her. Did she say it back? She thought she had.

And where was he anyway? Something told her he should be with her, here, in this office. Why was she in the office again? And where were Dawn and Dylan? And why would she even wonder that? And who was that guy who just ran away?

Buffy pushed herself up off the floor and began to dust herself off when she heard a tearing sound. She grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it away from her body. There on the shirt, was a large, clean tare, surrounded by blood. Buffy’s heart stopped for a moment as she pulled the shirt away even more, looking for the wound that would surely have caused all the blood. But all she found was smooth skin. This really was too weird. She ran her hand over the skin, as if to make sure that it was alright, then let the shirt fall back over it.

One thing was for sure, she had to find Giles. Yeah. Giles would know what was going on.

**********

Spike leaned back into the uncomfortable seat, playing idly with the letter opener he had found on the edge of the man’s desk. The balding man watched him with a degree of disgust and fear, as if he were almost afraid that Spike might jam the dull knife right through his temple. With the amount of contempt he had for the man, Spike’s old self would have done just that. This guy just didn’t realize how lucky he was to have souled Spike instead of the other.

“Yes, Mr. Summers,” he said, his gaze following the knife that was flopping up and down. “I hate to have called you in again.”

“From where I’m sittin’ you seem to enjoy it quite a bit,” Spike bit back, finally drawing the man’s eyes up to his. The balding man looked at him hard before the vampire continued. “What did she do this time?”

A sadistic little smirk grew on the man’s face, reminding Spike of that little prick that had been Buffy’s principal all those years ago. He wondered for a moment whether that Synder fellow had actually managed to impregnate a woman and that this guy was the product of that hellish union.

“She started another fight this afternoon,” he told Spike. “With a fifth grade boy.”

The vampire groaned from the news. Now, for most people, when they hear that a girl got into a fight with a fifth grade boy, their first concern would be for the little girl. He, however, knew better.

Letting his head fall back, Spike looked up at the ceiling and he asked, “How badly did she hurt him?”

“He has a busted lip, a black eye, and she broke his arm.”

“Bloody hell.”

“In three places,” he added dryly as if it were the continuation of some joke.

Spike looked up at the man behind the desk, the humor obviously lost on the vampire. Part of him was saying ‘that a girl’ and that he was proud of her, but the other part he had to listen to right at the moment was telling him that a punishment was definitely in order.

“You do realize that we will have to suspend her for at least a week,” Principal Marcus finally said.

“A week?! Wouldn’t makin’ her stay in school be more of a punishment then sendin’ her on a vacation for a week?!”

“This is her third fight this semester,” the principal said snidely. “It’s school policy that the child be suspended. So enjoy this quality time with her, Mr. Summers.”

This little troll really was getting too much joy out of suspending her. Yeah. He really must be related to Synder somehow.

“Where is she?” Spike asked evenly.

The principal bobbed his head slightly, holding the evil little grin on his face as he reached over and pushed the button to the intercom system. “Send her in.”

The door to the principal’s office opened and Spike turned around in his chair. The secretary pushed the door open then stepped out of the way, to allow the seven-year-old girl to come in. She had on her most innocent ‘I’m guilty’ smile, holding her hands in front of her. Her curly blonde hair that had been pulled back into a long ponytail was falling into loose strands around her face, and there was a new hole torn into the old pair of jeans she was wearing.

“Hi, Daddy.”

**********

Part 2: Little Girl

Dylan sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window. Her father hadn’t said anything since they had left the school, and she knew he was really mad at her. Him yelling, telling her she shouldn’t do things like that, she could take. When he was silent like this…It just wasn’t right.

“So, how long am I grounded?” she asked lowly, still staring out the window.

Spike glanced over at his daughter, considering his answer for a moment before saying, “Until I take up sunbathin’.”

“Dad,” she groaned.

“Don’t ‘Dad’ me, Dylan,” he told her. “What were you thinkin’? What have I told you about fightin’?”

“That it’s not enough to beat your opponent, you have to humiliate them too,” she deadpaned.

“Dylan,” Spike said sternly, warning her that he was in no mood for this.

Sighing loudly, she slouched back in her seat. “Not to do in public because it causes too much attention,” she repeated the lecture she had received from everyone over the past few years that she had been in school. “But, Dad, you don’t know Bobby Martin. He’s really the one that started the fight.”

“Yeah, and you sure as hell finished it,” he added, colder then had meant to be. Dylan shrunk away from the tone and looked as if she might start crying, causing him to sigh. “Look, poppet, I want you to be able to fight and defend yourself, and I’m glad you can. But you broke the kid’s arm in three places. I’m probably goin’ be bloody sued because of that.”

“Sorry,” she said lowly, ducking her head. “I didn’t mean to hurt him so badly.”

Pulling into the driveway, Spike killed the engine. He wasn’t so much mad at her as he was worried. She was only seven, but she didn’t act much like a kid. Giles had been right about her being smart; she’s as sharp as a tack she is. But that intelligence also seemed to isolate her from the other children, besides Jessie and Van who had grown up with her. Throw in the fact that she had inherited his short temper and his and Buffy’s superhuman strength that was already starting to show, and you have the makings of a great juvenile delinquent.

“I know you didn’t, pip,” he told her, touching the side of her head. She smiled gently at him, before he continued, “But you’re still grounded for the next two weeks.”

“Dad!” she exclaimed, horrified at the idea of being stuck in her room for that long.

“Sorry, pet, but you did break the boy’s arm.”

Dylan began to pout, causing him to laugh slightly. God, she really did look too much like her mother sometimes.

“That’s not goin’ to work,” he warned, getting out of the car. “Now, come on. Niblet probably has dinner waitin’ for us.”

“Oh goody,” Dylan said sarcastically, getting out the car and walking around it to stand with her father. “Should I go ahead and get poison control on the phone?”

Spike chuckled at his daughter while they headed up the walk to the front porch. “Be grateful, pip. Compared to your mum, Dawn’s a five star cook.”

“Dad, Gram’s coming home soon, right?”

“One can only hope, poppet,” he said as they walked into the kitchen that now had an over powering stench of something burning. Never had he been so glad in his life that he didn’t need to eat food. “One can only hope.”

**********

Buffy walked along the sidewalk quietly. Things seemed different, wrong somehow. For one thing, it was rather warm outside, like a nice fall evening instead of the cold winter one that she knew she had left behind. And it wasn’t raining anymore; there wasn’t even any sign that it had rained in several days.

A few people passed her on the street, but none of them paid her any attention, not even with the large blood stain in the middle of the shirt. Got to love the population of Sunnydale sometimes. Ignorance is most definitely bliss.

She paused in front of the shop that had been a clothing store yesterday, but today was a book store. Okay, this was really too weird. She had just been in there last week buying Dawn a blouse for Christmas, and now they were displaying their latest shipment of Greg Iles’ new book?

“Cash! Cash come back here!” she heard a child exclaim from down the street.

Buffy looked up just as a little boy, maybe four-years-old, came running at her, giggling wildly and completely oblivious to the danger he was in. This was Sunnydale, and a kid was running around outside after dark, alone?! God, were his parents just the stupidest people on the planet?

The little boy had his head down, so Buffy moved back to where he ran right into her. He hit her legs, causing him to bounce back gently and fall towards the ground. She caught him before he hit, and he looked up at her with wide, brown eyes.

“Hey,” she said in a soothing tone as she bent down to his level. “What are you doing out here all by yourself so late, huh?”

“Cash!” the other child’s voice called again as a young girl of about seven came jogging up to them. “I told you to not to run off like that. Mom and Dad won’t like it.”

The little girl’s eyes became as wide as her brother’s when she saw that his path was being blocked by a strange woman. Cautiously, the little girl approached her brother, trying to keep out of Buffy’s reach while, at the same time, being able to grab her baby brother. Smart kid. The slayer smiled at the little girl, held her hands up, and took a step back to show her she wasn’t going to do anything to them. The little girl wrapped her hand around her brother’s wrist and pulled him back towards her like she would be able to protect him from the stranger.

“You two shouldn’t be running around after dark,” Buffy warned. “It’s dangerous out here.”

“We know,” the little girl answered. “But our Mom’s store is right here, so she’ll be able to hear us if we scream.”

Buffy knew that the child was trying to warn the adult that others would come if they called, but, in Sunnydale, they might not ever get the chance.

“Well, I think it would be a good idea if you go to your Mom’s shop and wait inside with her.”

The little girl nodded at the suggestion and practically was dragging her little brother with her as she ran back down the sidewalk. A car backfiring distracted Buffy for a moment, and by the time she turned back around the children had disappeared into one of the shops. Satisfied that there were no vamps around that could have grabbed the kids, she continued down the street towards the Magic Box.

There was something familiar about those kids. She couldn’t shake the feeling like she had seen them before. Maybe it was when she was at the doctor’s office when she took Dylan for her booster shot. Yeah, there had been a lot of kids there that day. She must have seen them there. After all, it wasn’t like Sunnydale was that large of a town. It was possible that she had seen them before.

Buffy ignored the ‘Closed’ sign when she reached the Magic Box and walked inside without a thought as to when Giles had gotten a new hand carved sign for the store. The bell rang out brightly when she stepped inside, and was soon followed by a rather annoyed grunt.

“Can’t you read?” a man asked her, stepping out from behind the counter. “We’re clo-“

He paused mid-sentence when he saw who had just walked into the store, his eyes like saucers as he stared. Buffy’s brow grew into a straight line when she saw the strange blond man that the voice belonged to. “Who are you?”

“I-um…you….” his voice cracked several times before he gave a nervous glance over his shoulder towards the storage room. “Anya,” he squeaked before he cleared his throat and called with more confidence, “Anya! Get in here! Now!!”

From the back room, Buffy heard some movement, then the familiar little girl’s voice. “But, Mom, he was the one that ran off!”

“I don’t care, Jessie,” Anya answered, as she appeared in the doorway, the little girl and boy with her. “I told you to watch him. You didn’t. Xander says that means you have to be punished.”

The little girl groaned loudly in aggravation while Buffy could only stare. That was Jessie? But Jessie was just a baby, not a little girl. No, there must be some mistake.

Anya jerked to a stop behind the man when she saw why he had called her. Her once short blonde hair had grown back out to the long dark hair she’d used to have, and her clothing was much more suited for a sensible business woman than the young woman Buffy remembered.

Still, the ex-demon shifted her weight onto one foot, crossed her arms, and asked with a sigh, “You just can’t stay dead, can you?”

Buffy jerked her head up to meet Anya’s gaze, confusion etched on the slayer’s face. “Huh?”

**********

Dylan lay on her stomach, stretched across her bed with her laptop opened. With her grounding officially starting tomorrow, she figured she might as well get in some quality time with the machine before it found its way into her father’s closet for the duration of her punishment. If she had to use the computer, she would have to use the family one downstairs, and would be checked in on to make sure that she was using it for nothing but school work. Getting punished really sucked, but the look on Bobby Martin’s face when she waylaid him was worth it. Show him for being a bully to all of them ‘baby second graders’.

Dylan smiled as she watched the computerized chessboard and her opponent move his Rook, leaving his King open. She moved in for the kill shot, and smiled when she put him in checkmate.

The instant messenger popped up at the bottom of the screen.

ChessMaster: Nice move, Poppet.

Poppet: u know better than leave your King open like that, ChessMaster. u made it too easy.

ChessMaster: Sorry you think that. I’ll try and be tougher on you next time.

Poppet: that might b awhile. I’m grounded.

ChessMaster: Grounded? Another fight?

Poppet: yeah. got suspended too. guess how well my dad took that?

ChessMaster: He’s just worried about you.

ChessMaster: Did you win?

Poppet: u know it. LOL.

A gentle knocking came from the door, drawing Dylan’s attention away from the screen. Her father stood in the doorway with a half smile. “Time for bed, pip.”

She nodded her head, then typed; Poppet: got to go. warden says it’s time for lights out.

ChessMaster: Alright then. Goodnight, Poppet.

Poppet: night, ChessMaster.

As Dylan signed off, Spike walked over and sat down beside her on the bed. “I still don’t know how you and the Niblet can spend all hours of the day on those damn things. What can you possibly do for that long?”

“Well, I don’t know about Aunt Dawn, but I mostly play chess,” she told him as she twisted on the bed and crawled under the covers. “I got kind of tired of always kicking yours and Grandpa Giles’ butts.”

“Hey now. We let you win, you know.”

“Dad, you haven’t let me win since I was five,” she pointed out, raising one eyebrow as if he were insane.

Spike chuckled at the girl. Sometimes she was a little too smart, or observant, for her own good it seemed. Yes, he didn’t particularly like loosing to his seven-year-old daughter in chess, but he knew the Watcher hated it even more when she beat him at chess when she was still only five. He had wished he had a camera when he saw Giles’ expression when the old man realized she had him in check mate for first time, and Dylan was sitting there clinging onto Mr. Gordo, not understanding why Grandpa Giles was so upset.

“No, Giles’ hasn’t let you win since you were five. I just haven’t been playin’ you since you beat me,” he told her, grabbing Gordo off the floor and resting the stuffed pig in her arms. “Speakin’ of Giles, I talked to him earlier, and, since you’ll be havin’ some extra time on your hands this week, you’ll be spendin’ it helpin’ him index and categorizin’ those Watcher Diaries of his.”

“What?!” she exclaimed, sitting up slightly in bed. “Can’t I just train or something?”

“It’s called a punishment, pet,” he said. “Think of it as an add on to your original punishment since you felt compelled to not only break that boy’s arm, but in three places no less. So you get to be grounded at night, and be helpin’ the Watcher in the day when I’m asleep and the Bit’s at school.”

“S’not fair,” Dylan pouted, falling back into a comfortable position in bed.

“No one said anythin’ about life bein’ fair, pip,” Spike said. Or your Mum would be here doin’ this instead of me, he added silently. He bent forward and kissed the girl on her forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow before Dawn takes you over to Giles’.”

“Okay,” she smiled, nestling into a comfortable position. “Night, Dad.”

“Night, poppet.”

“Night, Aunt Dawn,” she called towards the doorway.

Spike turned around and found that they had an audience for the bedtime talk. Dawn smiled at him sweetly, then said to her niece, “Night, Dill.”

He stood from the bed, turned off the tableside lamp, and grabbed the computer off the end of the bed before joining Dawn in the hallway. When the door clicked shut, she said, “Giles just called. He wants us both over at the Magic Box ASAP.”

“Not another bloody apocalypse,” the vampire said, sounding more annoyed than afraid.

“Na. I don’t think it’s that,” she told him. “Though, he did sound kind of freaked about something.”

“So, who’s goin’ to watch the poppet?” he asked, nudging his head back towards the door.

“Mrs. Montello’s already waiting downstairs.” When he raised an eyebrow at her being able to get someone so fast, she added, “See, help someone out and they’ll return the favor.”

He shook his head at her before the two set off for the Magic Box.

**********

The boy sat in front of the chess board, staring at the pieces while the firelight played off them. Their shadows battled on the black and white checkered board in an endless, silent war. Black and white, good and evil, one pinning their strategy against the other in an effort to rule the board; that was the game of chess. He had been told that people with a mind of strategies were people to be fear because strategies are everything in the game of life. Chess, he had been told, is like life like that. You don’t learn how to play the game; you learn how to win.

He heard a constant clicking sound approaching, but didn’t look up even when the large shadow was cast across the board, killing all the other shadows in a single swoop. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the light reflect off the silver, panther head cane that had caused the clicking sound.

There had been many a day he had spent studying that panther head cane. Some days, it was for pure fascination of the piece. It was sleek, elegant, something a true gentlemen in his upper years would use. Other days he had gotten a closer look when he hadn’t wanted to. It was a painful source of discipline, but he had always deserved it. He knew his place and the panther head cane had shown it to him.

“How much longer will we be staying here, Grandfather?” the ten-year-old boy asked, his voice control like he was speaking with a commanding general.

“Not long, Sebastian,” the old man answered, finally moving out of the firelight and taking a seat across from the boy to where he was on the other side of the board. He examined it, and discovered the boy had moved into a position to where the old man was in check. He countered the move, then said, “It will not be long until you will have someone else to play this game with.”

Sebastian made his move, then looked up at the old man at this. “Then, she will be coming soon?”

He chuckled lightly before moving his Queen to where he put the boy’s King in checkmate. “All in due time, my boy. All in due time.”

**********

Spike hadn’t felt the air so charged since…well, he hadn’t felt it this charged in a long time. There was definitely something up this night. Something was coming, or was already here. He glanced over at the Bit as they approached to door to the Magic Box. She felt it too; he could tell by the way she was fidgeting with her hands.

Niblet wanted Peaches Junior there, but the boy had gone home from college for the weekend. He still wasn’t sure how those two had been able to convince the poof that it was a good idea for his kid to come to UC Sunnydale instead of UCLA, but that was the power of persuasion Dawn possessed. When she wanted something, she was usually able to talk her way into getting it. She would have made one hell of a politician, but her heart was set on becoming a photo journalist. Well, she could use that skill for investigative reporting, he supposed. So, instead of being in on the corruption, she would be exposing it.

“Guess it’s time to see what nasty evil we get to stop this week,” he said dryly, opening the door.

If he thought the air outside was charged, the air inside the shop was explosive. Every Scooby present, and their emotions were running on overdrive, slapping anyone who ventured inside in the face. He winced from it for a second, then stepped inside.

Harris sat the table with Oz, both men trying to calm a crying Willow. They had all been a bit apprehensive about the ex-witch rejoining the group, her being the one who was most against it. She had blamed herself for what had happened for years, no matter what the others had told her. It had gotten so bad, that she had done some stupid things and had the scars on her wrist to prove it. If it hadn’t been for Xander and Oz and Tara, she would have never made it.

Something bad was going on, and Demon Girl wasn’t there clinging onto the Whelp? That meant she had gone home to take care of the kiddies. Spike liked Anya, he really did, but there were times he was glad when she wasn’t around as often as she used to be when bad things would go down. Now if he could just get rid of Harris, he would be set.

Andy was standing over by the stairs, his arms crossed and looking paler than usual. Spike still wasn’t quite sure how the ex-Troika had become a sort of ‘Scooby in Training.’ They had first ‘faced off’ with him and his geek brothers, Warren and Jonathan, about a year after Buffy had died. They were a joke really; more of an annoyance than an actual threat, but that Warren fellow had surprised them in the end.

Johnny Boy and Andy had ended up in jail after being picked up for being caught red handed at the scene of a crime, but Warren had managed to get away. They had thought that they were through with them after that, but Warren had come back to the shop and…Poor Glenda. Faith, who had come back to Sunnydale after Buffy left, had been the one to stop the Troika that night. The head geek didn’t take kindly to that. Robot Boy had been after Faith, and Spike had tried to protect Tara who was with them. But the bullet went straight through his shoulder. He still had the scar, a little reminded of someone else he had failed to protect.

Warren had gotten away from them that night, but hadn’t made it through the night. Sodding idiot thought he could actually make it at Willy’s and ended up being some vamp’s dinner.

Andrew and Jonathan were released soon after the incident. Lack of evidence is what the cops had said. The two high tailed it out of town after that, only to show up a few months later looking for penitence for what they had done. Well, Jonathan had been look for penitence, and Andrew had just come along for the ride. Johnny Boy had been killed in a car wreak soon after they came back and Andy had been driving. He had felt so guilty he had actually stayed and continued on with Jonathan’s mission to be one of the good guys again. After pestering them for awhile, and getting more in the way than actually helping, Anya had proposed that he work for her and participate in the Scooby meetings. She had argued that he did have a vast knowledge of demons and might provide some useful information. Spike secretly thought that Anya just enjoyed having someone to push around and them not being able to say anything back. But, ever since then, Andrew had worked right there in that shop.

Giles was standing off beside the counter, his back to the pair that had just walked in, but he was looking over his shoulder at them. He had been talking to someone, but they were covered from their sight by the Watcher. Like the others, he looked as if he didn’t quite know what to think or say.

“Okay, why does everyone look like someone just died?” Dawn asked confusion on her face she looked from friend to friend. When the rest of the group exchanged a look, the girl’s face fell into shock and horror. “Oh, God, who died?”

“No one died,” a voice answered. “More like, undied.”

She step out from behind Giles, and Spike would have sworn the world stopped then and there. There she was, standing there as if the past seven years hadn’t happened all. That same nervous smile he had seen her use countless times when she had a secret she was sharing. Her arms locked behind her back, making her look like an innocent school girl who was nervous about meeting her first date. Those hazel eyes that would lock onto you and could burn a hole through you with anger or engulf you with the feelings of love and sympathy. It was her. It was impossible, but it was her.

“Hi, Dawnie,” Buffy said before turning her gaze to Spike. “Hello, Spike.”

**********

Part 3: Welcome Back, Again

He stood there, frozen in place, staring at the woman he had loved so much, only to have her taken away from him in one fatal swoop. Well, apparently not so fatal considering she was standing there. No, that’s not right. They buried her! Seven years ago! It couldn’t be her!! But it was. He could feel it was her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Xander shift in his chair, allowing Spike to break the gaze he held with Buffy. For a moment, he was afraid that if he did look away from her, then she would disappear and leave him there alone again. But confusion and the need for answers won out over that fear.

“What did you do?” he practically hissed at the other Scoobies in the room, though his voice sounded small to him.

“We didn’t do anything,” Xander said, gesturing to his fellow slayerettes. “But maybe a certain resident evil did.”

“Me?!” Spike bit back at the insanity of the suggestion. “What? Did a beam fall on your head and finally squish that pea for a brain of yours?”

“Who are you calling a pea brain?!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Harris. I thought by directin’ the statement at you and the reference to your job would have told you that the insult was meant for you,” Spike said dryly.

“Alright, that’s enough!!” Giles barked, causing everyone in the room to jump. The Watched shot a heated look between Spike and Xander, warning them silently to both keep their mouths shut or they would have him to deal with. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Giles then turned to the slayer and asked, “We do need to find out what is going on.”

“I’m all for that,” Buffy agreed. “I mean, hello. I’m the one who just woke up in the principal’s office covered in blood. Kind of like to know what exactly happened.”

The whole room became very silent at the revelation, besides Willow who began to a new round of tears. Buffy looked around the room, confused at the reaction to the simple statement. “What?”

“Um…” a timid voice answered. The blonde turned around towards the sound and saw Andrew, she thought that was his name, start to nervously shift on his feet like he was in high school talking with the ‘cooler kids’. His eyes were darting across the room at the Scoobies, as if he were asking permission to tell her what he knew, before he finally said, “You, ah, kind of…were, um…” he began to reenact the bathroom scene from Psycho before folding his arms back to hold himself like he was cold. “Stabbed.”

Stabbed? She had been stabbed? Buffy carefully considered this information for a moment. Stabbed. Now that she thought about it, she did remember something about a knife…no, a dagger. A dagger with a black handle. It was coming at Dawn and Dylan? No, she protected them. She saw it swinging at the younger Summers, and stepped in the way.

Buffy jerked in a breath when she remembered the knife being shoved into her.

“Buffy?” Giles said attentively as he placed his hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Spike stiffened briefly, as if he were going to come to her side, but held back at the last moment. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he still believed that this was all a dream, or a nightmare, and she would disappear at any moment. She always left faster if he touched her.

“Yeah,” Buffy said lowly, reaching over and touching the stained shirt. “Just…remembering.”

“Buffy?” a small voice squeaked, dragging the group’s attention up to the young woman who stood next to Spike.

Dawn’s face was white, and the vampire couldn’t understand how the girl was holding herself up. A small sigh escaped from the Bit, before her eyes rolled into her head and she headed for the ground. Spike caught her on the way down, and the Scoobies had something else to worry about instead of the dead slayer who suddenly wasn’t so dead anymore.

Spike laid her out across the floor, just as Giles and Buffy reached them, Harris and the others not far behind. “Dawn!” the slayer exclaimed, taking her face in her hands. ”Dawn!”

Slowly, the young woman’s eyes opened and looked up at her sister. With a shaky hand, Dawn reached up and touched the slayer’s face. Buffy smiled at her, before leaning into her hand. The brown-haired girl’s face light up at that, and she looked over at the vampire at her side. “She’s real,” she told him. “She’s really here.”

Spike lifted his gaze upward from Dawn and looked at Buffy, who meet his gaze. She still had on that weak smile, and he was half tempted to touch her like Dawn. Instead, he looked back down at Dawn, and said, “I know, Bit. I know.”

**********

Sebastian stood at the large window, looking out into the dark night. There was something off, something was different. Somewhere out there, things had changed, but for better or worse he didn’t know. It felt right, but wrong at the same time, like whatever it was was supposed to be here but not at the same time. This was just too confusing, especially for a kid.

The boy glanced over his shoulder towards the large chair in front of the fireplace. His grandfather had drifted off to sleep not long after their chess match had ended, but the child was no where near tired. He was more of a night owl, his aunt and uncle had always said so.

A frown crept across his face as he thought of them. They weren’t really his aunt and uncle anymore than the old man in the chair really was his grandfather. He knew why they insisted that he call them that, though. Makes them seem like family ties; people protect, fight for, and listened to their families. If they became family to him, then he would do as they wished. Family was a strong tie to the world that one creates, and they wanted him to include them in his world for what he could do.

He wondered how strong her ties were to her family and friends. It was hard enough for his ‘grandfather’ to break his to his aunt and uncle; it’ll be even harder to break hers. But he had seen the old man in action. If there was a person out there that could do it, it would be him, and it would be in the most brutal fashion.

Sebastian didn’t know her, only knew of her, but he wished she didn’t have to go through that. No one, no matter who or what they are, deserved that. But deserving or not, she better be ready, because it was coming for her; just like it came for him.

The boy turned back to the window and sighed. This was not something that should concern him so much. A girl he had never meet before in his life shouldn’t concern him so much. But she did. For some reason, she did more then anyone he had ever known before. He just hoped she didn’t hate him one day for the part he had to play in this.

**********

Spike stood in front of the punching bag, just staring at it for a long moment. He had to get out of there; there was just too much going on for him to deal with it all in a moment. He could so use a cigarette right about then, anything to calm his nerves. But he had given them all up all those years ago; his cigarettes, his booze, even kitty poker, all which he was now regretting ever listening to Buffy in the first place. Still, he did have his pet vice to turn to; good, old fashioned violence.

Rearing back, he hit the punching bag as hard as he could and knocked it off its hinges with a single punch. The black bag landed with a loud, unsatisfying thud that accompanied his low growl.

Damn whoever brought her back. She had died; she was supposed to get to rest now. But even her death couldn’t stop them from using her, and it was all going to end up the same in the end. He was going to lose her again, something he didn’t think he could take once more.

“Well, it’s good to know if we’re ever attacked by a legion of evil punching bags you can take care of them,” a voice said dryly from the door.

Spike turned around and found Buffy watching him, her arms crossed and a weak smile on her face. She was taking this all rather well, but, with her swiss cheese memory, it was pretty understandable. From what he was able to gather, she didn’t remember a lot about that day, and nothing from afterwards. Part of him was glad for that. He knew she had to have gone to heaven, and, coming back, would have been hell for her.

“What?”

She took a step into the training room that hadn’t changed all that much since she left. “You said that to me yester…You said that to me the night I…um, you know,” Buffy answered awkwardly.

The silence was tense that passed between them, neither one having any idea what to say to the other. He was still having trouble accepting that she was there, and she was still having trouble understanding what exactly was going on. She knew that seven years had gone by, that there were a lot of things that were different, but she still didn’t look as if she quite believed it just yet. It was understandable. He wouldn’t believe it if someone told him the same thing.

“So,” he finally said, but finding nothing to go after it. Well, that wasn’t true, there was a lot he could have put with it like ‘I missed you’ or ‘Why are you here?’ or ‘I’m sorry.’

“Why?” she suddenly said, raising her eyebrow.

His head shot up at her voice, as he realized that he had said that last one aloud. Nervously he began to play with his hands and look for answers to her question. “For you havin’ to come back and all. Must’ve been better where you were.”

“Can’t really say,” she said with a shrug, walking over to stand beside him. “Considering that I don’t remember anything.”

She noted how tense he became as she approached, so she stopped a few feet short of him. Neither one of them liked this weird, surreal feeling that was swirling around them, but they didn’t know how to stop it. Spike shifted nervously on his feet, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck, while Buffy glanced down towards the ground before looking around the room as if it would provide something for them to talk about that didn’t feel awkward.

“Dawn’s grown up nicely,” she finally said, deciding that her baby sister would be a safe topic for the two of them. “She’s…she’s very pretty.”

“That she is,” he agreed. “Had a hell of a time when she was a senior keepin’ those boys from sniffin’ around the house. Course, I should’ve been keepin’ an eye on Peaches Junior instead of the outsiders.”

“Her and Connor?” Buffy smiled, thinking back to the scrawny teenager that Angel had brought.

“Yeah,” he snorted in that I’m-pretending-that-I-don’t-like-it-but-I’m-really-okay-with-it way. “Thought the girl had better taste than that. What is it about you Summers girls and the men in the poof’s family?”

She smiled slightly as he realized exactly what he had just said. Technically, he was a part of that family too.

“Must be the hair,” she smirked. “You know, Angel with the hair gel, you with the bleach, Connor with the street urchin, I’ve-never-been-inside-a-barbershop hair cut.”

“Well, you can see some things have changed,” he told her, a small smile on his lips. He had since given up the bleach again and now his hair had returned once more to the original color she had gotten used to all those years ago. “And I can guarantee your sister has taken the Poof Part Two to the barbershop. Angel, though…”

“Still spends enough money on hair gel to finance a small country?”

“You said it, not me,” he grinned.

The two stood there for a moment, just letting the silence that had been so horrible only moments before become more and more comfortable.

After awhile, Buffy reached up to cover a large yawn. Now that she had actually stopped, she realized how tired she was. She felt like she could sleep for a week, and she was just imagining sleeping in her nice warm bed until late tomorrow. That is, if Giles didn’t want her to show up at six a.m. to start researching on how she came back. Knowing Giles that would be exactly what he wanted.

“Tired, love?” he asked.

“Just a bit,” she answered. “Could you take me home? I’d really like to get some sleep before the big research party.”

Spike frowned for a moment, a sudden terror passing through him as he idly wondered if she went to sleep, would she disappear and he would find he truly was dreaming. Well, there was only way to be sure he guess. Slowly, he reached up and barely touched the side of her face, letting his thumb gently slide over her cheek. She smiled at him, leaning ever so slightly into the touch, before reaching up and taking his hand into hers.

Dawn was right. She was really here. He gave an emotional laugh/cough, before saying, “Yeah. Let’s get the Niblet and head on back.”

**********

Something soft nudged against her chin while purring loudly in her ear, waking the child. Dylan grunted slightly, not really wanting to wake from the deep slumber she had been enjoying, but the cat was currently doing everything that it could to get her up, short of digging its claws into her chest. If she didn’t hurry, he just might do that in a moment.

When he meowed, the girl lazily opened her eyes and began to push herself up in bed. “Alright, Sid, I’m up. I’m up.”

The cat jumped off the bed and landed with a loud thud on the ground. He trotted over to her slightly cracked bedroom door, then looked over his shoulder as if he wanted her to follow. Yawning, Dylan rubbed her eyes, pulled on her purple Volkswagon Bug house slippers, and headed after the cat; proving the idea that people do not own cats, cats own people.

Sid strode happily down the hallway and stairs as Dylan followed. He had originally been Dawn’s pet, but, once she had left to ‘live’ in the dorms, he had unofficially become Dylan’s. She took care of the black feline; fed him, played with him, and made sure that her Dad didn’t let Clem use him as a breeding cat to pay off his debts. She knew her Dad didn’t really like that cat, said he was always getting under foot; but Sid didn’t like her Dad either, so she guessed it worked out.

Charging down the stairs, Dylan was surprised to find Mrs. Montello asleep on the couch with the television playing Good Morning America loudly. She had meet the older woman only a couple of times, usually when the sixty something lady was dropping off her grandson James for Dawn to watch for a few hours. The only reason Dylan could think of why she would be here was because of official Scooby business that required both her Dad and Aunt Dawn. Well, maybe she would at least be able to pry an adventure story out of them when they got back. And another plus, maybe she wouldn’t have to go over to Giles’ today after all.

Sid meowed loudly at her as she poured the dry cat food into his bowl, then went making her own breakfast of frosted flakes. Taking her bowl of cereal into the living room, she set it down on the coffee table, carefully lifted the remote of the sleeping woman’s hand, and changed the channel to the Cartoon Network and was please to find “The Jetsons” was on. She knew she was grounded, but, if her Dad and Dawn had been gone all night on business, chances are they would be too distracted with that by the time they got back to notice what she was doing. The seven-year-old giggled at Mr. Spacely yet again firing George as she polished off the last of her cereal.

Outside, she heard a vehicle pull into the drive, and the child quickly went to work in making it look like she hadn’t been watching TV. She changed it back to the boring news program it had been on earlier, flipped it up one channel and back so if her father hit the previous button it would go here instead of Cartoon Network, then darted for the kitchen with her cereal bowl just as the front door opened.

Dylan paused for a moment after she stepped into the kitchen and waited to be called back into the living room from being caught. When it didn’t come, she shrugged her shoulders, dropped the bowl in the sink, and then pulled out a glass from the dishwasher for some water.

It seemed odd not to get caught-she always got caught-it was strangely unsatisfying. She thought the day she was finally able to get one over her Dad she would, she didn’t know, be different somehow. Maybe it had to be bigger. Yeah, that’s what was wrong. She had to get away with something bigger for it to feel different.

“What are you doing here?” a woman’s voice asked from behind her, causing the child nearly to drop the glass.

Swirling around on her heels, Dylan turned to face a blonde woman. At first, Dylan considered screaming from a stranger being in the kitchen with her, but something was telling that she didn’t need to be afraid of her. There was something familiar about her face, like she had seen it somewhere before.

The woman was considering her with the same curiosity. When she crossed her arms as she waited for answer, Dylan was able to recognize her from the pictures she had seen. But it couldn’t be! She was dead!! The glass slipped from the girl’s grip and shattered upon hitting the floor as the two held a locked gaze.

Another form appeared behind the woman, finally allowing Dylan to look away from the woman to it. Her father stood there, looking between the blonde woman before him and the little girl that stood in front of the sink.

“Dad?” she said, the simple word pleading for answers as to what was going on.

The woman’s eyes grew as she looked from the little girl, back over her shoulder to the child’s father, then back to the girl.

“Dylan?” Buffy asked in disbelief.

**********

Chapter 4: Instant Family

“Dylan?” Buffy said in a small voice, her eyes locked on the little girl that stood in front of the sink.

The three of them stood there in complete silence, none of them moving, not even daring to breathe for fear of breaking the trance they were in. Buffy couldn’t take her eyes off the child standing in front of her. That child that had Spike’s eyes and her own nose, looking at Buffy like she might be sick or swallow her tongue or just blink, say ‘Oh,’ and be done with it. Actually, the slayer bet on option d, the ‘scampering away like a scared bunny if she made a wrong move’ option.

This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right. Dylan was a baby. She had been that morning. She couldn’t be…a seven-year-old girl. Seven years. Oh, God, she’d missed seven years. They had told her, but she hadn’t fully believed them…until now.

Somewhere in the far distant portion of the universe, they heard the front door shut as Dawn showed Mrs. Montello out and felt the college girl as she approached them, oblivious to the situation in the kitchen. Dawn even had a large smile on her face when she walked in on the frozen three, and the thick air around them hit the Key in the face like a Mac Truck.

Confused at what was going on, Dawn looked to her sister and asked, “Buffy?”

The single word echoed through the room, shattering the tense silence that they had built up around them as surely as the glass had shattered on the ground. Dylan drew in a sharp breath like she had been struck, her whole body recoiling in a safety defense maneuver. This drew Dawn’s attention away from her sister to see what the cause of all the tension had been. Now the child had moved, and the surreal bubble that they had wandered into had popped, and reality, or some form of it, was trying to settle back in.

“Dylan,” Dawn said in a small voice, really noticing the girl for the first time since she walked into the room.

The spell broken, the seven-year-old began to shake her head, slowly at first, then more feverishly. Her eyes were locked on Buffy as she stammered, “You’re-you’re dead.” Frantically, she turned those wide eyes back to her father. “She’s dead. We’ve been to her grave.”

Spike blinked, his daughter’s pleading pulling him back to the situation before him. “Dylan-“

“You said she was dead!” the child cried before turning back to Buffy, a few tears rolling down Dylan’s cheeks. “You were dead.”

Dawn looked at the two parents, then took a step towards the little girl. “Dylan-“

“Don’t touch me!” she screamed, jerking away from her aunt like she had tried to burn her with fire.

“Dylan!” Spike reflexively snapped, not even realizing how harsh the word had sounded until he saw the hurt on top of the confusion flash through his daughter’s eyes.

Shaking her blonde head again, Dylan’s face contorted as if she were about to start bawling before she pushed past a still silent Buffy and ran up the stairs. Dawn took a step to follow, but Spike stopped her.

“I’ll go,” he told the young woman softly. “You take care of Buffy.” With that he disappeared after the young girl, leaving the two other Summers women standing in the kitchen.

They stood there for what seemed forever, neither speaking. Dawn didn’t know what she could say to her sister. She couldn’t imagine how Buffy would feel once the shock wore off; which, by the way, maybe she should sit her down before it did and the slayer passed out.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Dawn said, moving quickly to her sister’s side and guiding her effortlessly onto one of the bar stools.

Buffy sighed heavily as she sat, her eyes seemingly locked on something in the corner of the room that was invisible to the Key. Then, blinking, the blonde woman turned to her sister and asked, “What’ve I missed?”

The college girl swallowed hard and licked her lips before answering, “A lot.”

**********

Dylan lay across her unmade bed, clutching onto the pillow she was crying into. This was stupid; she shouldn’t be as upset over her dad yelling at her like he had. He hadn’t even really yelled at her, just snapped, but that tone had caused something inside of her to break and she couldn’t hold back the tears any more. God, she really was a baby.

The door to her bedroom slid silently opened as he came inside. Dylan rolled over on her side, twisting her body away from him, hoping he’d pick up on that she didn’t want to talk about this right now. Her father didn’t say anything, just stood there watching her while she tried not to look like she was crying. She hated worse than anything for anyone to see her cry.

Drawing in a deep, unneeded breath, Spike pulled the door closed behind him, then walked over and sat down on the edge of Dylan’s messy bed to where her curled up knees were right beside him. Taking notice that she was absolutely refusing to look at him or anything else besides the wall directly across from her, he reached down and brushed some of stray, curly blonde hair that was sticking to her face from her tears behind her ear.

She finally did roll over when he touched her, and looked up at her father with her large blue eyes that were filled with every emotion he knew possible. She didn’t understand, as he thought she wouldn’t. As smart as Dylan is, she still is only a child. He didn’t understand everything that was going on, how in world could they expect her too?

A stifled hiccup/sob escaped from her throat, causing a rather warm smile to find its way on his face, trying to reassure her silently that it’ll be alright. When he did this, she moved herself to where she was holding onto him in a tight hug, crying into his chest. He didn’t say anything, just held her close to him until she cried herself out.

**********

Buffy stood in what had once been her living room, looking at the fireplace mantel that had photos of the new family that lived in the house. She felt like a stranger there, like she had just walked in off the street and disturbed the harmony that ran the household. Even with the few pictures of herself that stared back at her, it didn’t feel like she belonged there.

She recognized one of them, of her and Dylan that her mother had taken during Thanksgiving. Now that she thought about, she thought her mother had said something about going to get an enlargement of it when she got them back last week. No, not last week, years ago. She would have to remember it’s been years, not days.

Beside it were several pictures that had been taken after Buffy had…left. There was Dawn’s graduation photo with her posing in her cap and gown, clutching tightly onto the rolled up piece of paper that she had received. Next to it was a picture of the three older kids on the beach, hanging on each other as they laughed at the camera. Then there was one of the whole gang at the Magic Box at what appeared to be Giles’ ‘retirement’ party. But it was the last one that held her attention for the longest.

Buffy carefully lifted it off the mantle and just stared at it for a long time. It was a simple black and white, with two subjects fast asleep on the couch that sat under the large window. Dylan looked like she was three or maybe four-years-old, and she was curled up on her father who was spread out across the rest of the couch. Apparently it was taken before he decided to give the bleach a rest because the white was a sharp contrast to the dark furniture. A book he had been reading to the sleeping child was resting on his chest next to her head, apparently having worked on both of them. It captured a sweet moment of a family, her family but not.

“I called Mom,” Dawn said, startling her older sister back to the real world. The slayer turned to her little sister, the picture still in hand, as the young woman continued to babble. “She’s coming back from New York on the next flight. I feel kinda bad though, cause I mean, I couldn’t tell her that her dead daughter was back from the dead over the phone, you know. So she’s probably freaked beyond freaked that something bad happened. She’s probably having a heart attack, and she’ll definitely have one when she sees you.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Buffy said quietly, not having really heard her sister.

Dawn’s eyes dropped slightly and she smiled when she saw what her sister had been looking at. “He hates that picture,” she told the blonde woman, taking it from her. After looking at it for a moment, she placed it back on the mantel next to the others. “Says it makes him look like a ‘bloody ponce’ or ‘poof’ or something like that, I can’t remember all those Britishy slang words he likes to use. I just thought it was cute, that’s why I took the picture.”

Buffy looked over at her sister in surprise. It was really good, like a professional had taken it. Of course she should have known someone close to them had to be the one to take it because Spike would have killed anyone who caught him on camera like that. “You took that?”

“Yeah,” Dawn beamed proudly before looking down the line of pictures on the mantle. “Took most of these, except for the graduation one, of course. Giles was actually able to fumble enough with the camera to get that one.”

“They’re good,” Buffy said simply as she scanned over them once more.

“Thanks.”

“Dawn.”

“Yeah?”

“Why’s Mom in New York?”

“She was meeting with some guy there,” a new voice answered, causing both the women to jump. They turned around towards it, and found Dylan standing in the doorway between the foyer and living room. Spike was directly behind her, and the child looked up at him to confirm what she had just said. “Right, Dad?”

Buffy drew her eyebrows together, causing a straight line to form between them. Her mother was in New York meeting some guy? Upon seeing the slayer’s reaction to this, Spike clarified, “Art dealer.”

“Oh,” she said quietly, her eyes still on the little girl that had told her this.

Dylan looked as if she would run away again at any moment if it were not for her father holding on to her shoulders to keep her in place. Knowing this, Buffy approached the pair like she would an injured, scared animal, very carefully and very slowly, until she was standing directly in front of them. The child backed as far as she could into Spike until Buffy thought Dylan was just about ready to climb over him to get away from her, so the slayer stopped there still in the ‘safe distance’ range.

Buffy crouched down to where she was eye level with her daughter and said, “Hi.”

Dylan eyed her for a moment in a combination of fascination, fright, and, Buffy would almost swear, disgust. “Hi,” she echoed timidly.

“You know who I am?” the slayer asked, though she already knew the answer.

The seven-year-old answered with typical child language by shaking her head vigorously up and down, an action that would give any adult a nasty head rush.

“Kind of weird, huh? With me being here.”

Dylan dropped her eyes so Buffy couldn’t see how much this was affecting her as she shrugged one shoulder like it was nothing. A thought crossed the child’s mind and when she lifted her eyes again, complete curiosity had taken over her face. “Why are you here?”

Spike sighed deeply from the question, like he had expected her to ask it but, at the same time, hoped that she wouldn’t. But Buffy only bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing at obvious ‘parent Spike’ and his annoyance at his child acting just like him. Seems like the old curse that every parent gives their child at least once about having a child just like them had come true for the vampire.

Buffy killed the playful smile before she turned back to Dylan with a much gentler one. “I don’t know.”

The seven-year-old’s face fell into an even form from the answer. “Oh,” she said, causing Buffy to kick herself mentally for not coming up with a better answer for her. Turning her head upward towards Spike’s, Dylan asked, “Can I go get dressed now? Grandpa Giles is probably waiting.”

“Giles?” Spike repeated, having forgotten something that the child obviously remembered.

“Yeah, you know, the Watcher Diaries.”

Comprehension washed over his face as he remembered what she was talking about. “I don’t think he’ll be interested in that today, pip.”

Her face fell a little like she had just missed her one chance to get away before she made it go back to being neutral again. “Oh. Well, I guess I’ll just be up in my room then.” She dropped her head back down to where she was looking Buffy in the eye, and said with false sweetness, “Nice meeting you, Buffy.”

Dylan then took off back up the stairs before anyone could protest. Slowly, the slayer rose up, her heart now firmly placed in the bottom of her stomach. There was no mistaking that tone. Dylan hated her. The way the child had spoken to her was the same way Buffy herself had spoken to the first girlfriend her father had taken her to meet after her parents’ divorce. She didn’t like her, she didn’t want her there, and, hopefully if she’s cold enough to her, she’ll go away again.

As Buffy sighed, she felt a hand slide onto her shoulder from the side. Dawn was now standing beside her, giving her a supportive smile. “She just needs time,” she reassured her.

“Yeah, love. She’ll come ‘round,” Spike agreed.

“I hope so,” Buffy said lowly, returning Dawn’s smile first to her, then to Spike. A similar grin grew on his lips, lifting her spirits a bit. How’d he do that? How could he just look at her and make her feel as if everything would be alright? Whatever the reason, right now, she was glad that he could.

Dawn stood off to the side of the two, her eyes darting back and forth between the two like she was watching a tennis match. One thing no one could ever accuse Dawn of was not being able to pick up an obvious vibe between people.

“I’ll just go upstairs and fix Mom’s room up for Buffy,” the young woman said. She started to turn away, but paused before she took off to follow the route her niece had taken. A wicked grin passed over her lips momentarily. This was something else no one could ever accuse her of, passing up an opportunity to use that vibe against the person, especially if it was her sister. “Unless you want to sleep somewhere else,” she added innocently.

Buffy jerked her head towards Dawn, the slayer’s eyes wide and a faint tint of red on her cheeks. Dawn glanced over at Spike and would swear that if vampires could blush, he would be right about then. Okay, now it’s time to act stupid.

“I meant my old room,” she lied, making herself sound like a dumb teenager. She was so going to make her squirm. “Where did you think I meant?”

“Oh, um, I just, ah, thought you meant, um,” Buffy stuttered, her mind racing desperate for an answer that wasn’t the truth.

Biting down on the inside of her lip to keep from smiling, Dawn decided that she would let the blonde off the hook…for now. “The couch?” she provided, fighting hard to keep from laughing at her sister.

“Yeah! The couch!” Buffy exclaimed a bit too excited. She caught herself and calmed herself quickly. “I mean, yeah, I thought you meant the couch.”

A knowing look crossed her sister’s face, and Buffy would swear she heard her go ‘Uh, huh.’ “Well, I’ll just be upstairs then,” Dawn said before taking off in that direction.

Buffy groaned loudly when she heard the bedroom door close. “Well, this sure has been one hell of a day.” She leaned back to where she was nearly sitting on the end table beside the couch. “And to think. It’s just starting,” the blonde woman added with a sarcastic happiness.

“It’ll be alright, love,” he assured her, stepping closer to her.

Buffy couldn’t help but snort, her sister and her remarks already having been forgotten in favor of the slayer feeling that she was finally able to speak freely. “Yeah, well, Dylan doesn’t hate you.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Buffy. She just doesn’t know…” he paused, kicking himself for almost saying that.

“She just doesn’t know me,” the slayer finished sadly for him.

He frowned from the truth of the statement. Dylan didn’t know Buffy; she never got the chance to. Buffy had died when she was just a baby, and, no matter what they all told the child, she doesn’t remember her being the great mum that she was. If she hadn’t died…If he hadn’t had let her die, none of this would have happened. This was all his fault. He was there, he could have stopped Eric, but he didn’t. Now they’re all miserable because of him.

Buffy looked up when he began to back away from her. He looked pasty, even for Spike, and had that ‘I just realized something and it’s bad’ look on his face.

“Spike?”

He looked up at her, a surprised look on his face as if he couldn’t believe she was actually still willing to talk to him. Concern grew on her face while she tried to decide exactly what he was thinking. She might not be able to read him like he could her, but even Xander could tell at this moment that something bad had just happened in the former bleach blond’s mind. Well, maybe not bad for Xander, but probably really bad for the slayer.

“What’s wrong?” she asked carefully.

“Nothin’, pet,” he lied, fighting to keep his voice as even as he could.

But if there was one thing that Spike could never lie about, it was his emotions. He wore them on his face just like he wore clothes on his body. And whatever it was he just realized, she could tell it wasn’t going to be good for his and her relationship. That is, if they still had one. Right at the moment, Buffy didn’t know if they did or not.

As he backed towards the kitchen, he glanced at the foyer. “Niblet’s probably got Joyce’s room ready for you. Why don’t you head on up? I’ll be downstairs if you need anything,” he practically said in one word before turning around and heading down in the basement.

Buffy leaned against the small table, staring at where he had been only a moment before, not believing he had just left her there like that. Part of her wanted to chase after him, to make him tell her what was wrong, but she wouldn’t. He had freaked over something and needed time, just like Dylan needed time, and Buffy didn’t have the energy to speed things up at the moment.

Instead, she climbed the stairs to her mother’s bedroom, went to bed, and cried herself to sleep over the life she missed.

**********

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