May 2001:

Spike was inconsolable.  When the coroner came to retrieve the bodies, Angel and Faith had to physically restrain him to allow the Medical Examiner to do his job.

Back in Sunnydale, Giles took care of the funeral arrangements for Buffy as Spike was simply incapable of making any decisions at all.  Buffy was buried next to her Mom in another night time, candlelit, service.   After the service, all the Scoobies went back to the mansion with Spike to make sure he was alright.

Spike took Annie upstairs to bed, and, when he didn’t come back downstairs, Willow went up to check on him. Spike had laid down on the floor next to his daughter's crib and fallen into a fitful sleep. His dreams were always filled with those few seconds when Buffy’s hand slipped from his and she was falling.  Willow covered him with a blanket, tears filled her eyes as he called Buffy’s name in his sleep.  Sure that Spike was ok for the night, she sent the rest of the Scoobies home and she laid down on the couch in the great room and fell asleep herself.

Willow woke pre-dawn the next morning. Looking in to Annie’s room, she found Annie sleeping peacefully in her crib, but Spike was gone.  She searched the entire mansion for him, but he wasn’t there.

**~**

Xander arrived at the cemetery just at the crack of dawn, he had stumbled out of bed in a fog after Willow called to say that Spike was missing. Xander knew exactly where Spike would be.  Heading for the now all too familiar section of the cemetery where the Summers women were buried, he saw Spike laid out on top of Buffy’s grave, he was laying on his stomach, head on his hands when Xander walked up to him.

“So, you just gonna wait for the sun to come up, then?”  Xander said as he reached him.

“I am.”  Spike didn’t look at him.

Xander nodded. “Yeah, I can see how that would be easier.”

Spike didn’t respond.

“I guess Buffy was wrong about you, after all,”  Xander prodded.

“How ya' figure?”

“Well, she believed in you.  She said you were a warrior, like her.  Turns out, you’re just a coward, like Angel.”  Xander threw everything he could think of at Spike.

“Reckon so. She’d a’ been better off with the ponce,”  Spike replied, his tone was flat, he still hadn’t moved or looked at Xander.

This is bad, Xander thought. If comparing him to Angel didn’t get a rise out of him, he wasn’t sure what would.

Xander sighed. “So, that’s it then.  You just gonna go?  No goodbye's,  no nice knowin’ ya’s?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Well, just goes to show, you can’t trust a monster to keep his promises, can you?” 

That did it. Spike sprang to his feet in full game face. He had Xander pinned to the ground in a flash. 

“I KEPT MY BLEEDIN’ PROMISE, DIDN’ I?  SAVED ANNIE, KILLED BUFFY!  DID AS SHE ASKED!” Tears burned Spikes eyes, he shut them, jaw clenched, holding the tears back.

“Buffy trusted you to take care of Annie, not just that night, but forever, Spike.  Your promise isn't finished.”  Xander spoke calmly, despite the demon on top of him, he knew Spike wouldn’t hurt him; Buffy wouldn’t approve.  “And, you didn’t kill Buffy, she made a choice.  She’s the Slayer, Spike. You know you can’t argue with her when she’s made up her mind.”

Spike rolled off Xander and laid on his back on the ground next to him, palms pressing into his eyes to stem the tears that seemed ever present since that terrible day.

Xander stood up and reached a hand down towards Spike, “Com’on, gonna be light soon,” Xander said, looking at the sun that was just starting to peak over the tops of the trees that surrounded the cemetery.

Spike took a deep breath, wiping hard at his eyes before taking Xander’s hand and his offer for help up from the ground. 

“We’ll all help you, Spike,”  Xander said as they walked back to his car. “But you can’t bail on us.” 

This walk was getting much too familiar.

  **~**

June 2001:

Despite Spike’s word that he wouldn’t bail on them and that he would take care of Annie, it was a struggle to just to make it from day to day.   He barely ate, only doing so when Willow or Xander insisted, he much preferred the Jack Daniels which seemed to have now become his constant companion.  His hair, which he’d always kept just so, was now a mane of curls, growing in dark at the roots, just the ends still colored in his trademark platinum.  When Willow came to the mansion one day and found the electricity had been turned off, she asked Spike if he had paid the bill; he just shrugged.  Buffy had always done that, he hadn’t even thought of it.

Anya gathered up the piles of mail where Spike had tossed it on the floor of the room Buffy had used as her office, where all the bills and bank statements were kept. She went through it all for him, catching up the bills and making sure everyone had gotten paid. 

Going through the papers in one of the drawers, Anya came across a Life Insurance Policy.  Buffy had taken out a $2 million double indemnity life insurance policy on herself naming Spike, as well as a trust for Annie, as the beneficiaries.

The whole gang had gathered at the mansion as they did regularly, trying to keep Spike’s spirits up and keep him involved in things other than simply caring for Annie, and they were currently sitting around the research table discussing the latest demon sighting.

Anya approached the group with the life insurance policy in her hand. “Spike’s rich,” she announced to the group. “Well, Spike and Annie.”  She waved the papers around in the air.

“Whatcha talking about Ahn?” Xander grabbed the papers from her hand.

“Life insurance. Buffy took out life insurance on herself.  Since she didn’t die from natural causes, it’s worth $4 million,” Anya explained.

“Good Lord.” Giles leaned over to look at the papers that Xander was reading. 

“Wow!” Willow leaned in, too. 

Spike was the only one that seemed totally disinterested in what they were looking at.

“Did you know about this, Spike?”  Giles asked him.

Spike shook his head. “No, didn’t know.  Money’s not gonna bring ‘er back now, is it?”

“Yes, well,  I suppose not, but it may be helpful for Annie in the future, for college and so forth,”  Giles intoned.

“You need to file for it within ninety days of death,” Anya offered. “I can do it for you, if you want.”

Spike shrugged. “Do whatever you like.”

**~**

July 2001:

Despite their best efforts, the gang couldn’t get Spike to do regular patrols. Most days he wouldn’t let Annie out of his sight for a minute.  At night, he slept on the floor in Annie’s room, he wouldn’t even go into the bedroom he’d shared for the last three years with Buffy.  A few days after Buffy’s funeral, after noticing that Spike hadn’t changed clothes, Willow went in to the couple’s bedroom and brought his clothes out, putting them in one of the empty guest rooms for him.   

Since Spike remained so despondent, Willow moved into the mansion with Spike and Annie, taking over Angel’s old room.  She had met a girl at college, another Wiccan, Tara, and she often stayed over at the mansion as well.  Spike liked the two witches as much as he liked anything these days, and trusted them with Annie.  They tried to act like they were just friends around the rest of the gang, he noticed, but he knew differently . . . it was hard for his vampire senses to miss the smell of sex on the girls when they were both living with him.

Today Spike had been playing with Annie, but Willow insisted that they needed to take her shopping for some new clothes; her old ones were just getting too small for her, and Spike had acquiesced. 

Now he was lying on the floor in the training room, a half empty bottle of Jack in one hand. He heard the door to the training room open and close. He sighed.  His eyes were closed, but he knew who it was before the visitor said anything.

“Angel,” Spike said flatly, not opening his eyes.

“Spike,” Angel replied just as evenly.

Angel walked further in the room towards the spot where Spike was laying atop a pile of mats on the floor.

“I see why you stay in here a lot,” Angel said conversationally. “Her scent’s fading from the other room, but it still smells like her in here.” Angel closed his eyes and breathed deeply of the aroma of Buffy. 

Practically every surface in the room had been covered with Buffy’s blood or sweat at one time or another, not to mention the times she and Spike had made love in there after a sparring match, and, with no one else using it, there was nothing to cover up the old scent.

“Spike,” Angel started again. “You’ve got to snap out of this.”

“What's this, a bleedin’ intervention?”  Spike hadn’t moved or even looked at Angel.

“Do you need an intervention?”  Angel walked closer to him. “Your friends are worried about you, they say you’re drinking too much and not eating.”

“Yeah, well, not their problem, is it?” Spike’s voice elevated. “Not yours, either.”

“That’s the thing about friends, Spike, they butt in whether you want them to or not.” Angel stopped a few feet short of where Spike was laying.  “You’ve got to let her go, Spike.”

Spike shot upright and threw the whisky bottle at Angel. “Like bloody hell, I do!” 

Angel ducked and the bottle crashed against the wall behind him, sending glass and liquid in all directions.

Spike was standing in Angel’s face now. “You didn’t love ‘er like I did!  You don’t have a gaping hole in your chest where she was! Haven' had your heart and soddin’ soul torn out!  You’ve no right to tell me to let ‘er go! I’ll NEVER LET ‘ER GO!”

Angel grabbed Spike by the front of his shirt and shook him. “You’re not doing anyone any good like this, Spike!  Not Annie and not yourself!  YOU HAVE TO LET HER GO!”

“FUCK OFF, ANGEL!” Spike punched Angel in the jaw. Angel dropped his hold on Spike and stumbled backwards. 

Spike stormed out of the room, leaving Angel rubbing his jaw and shaking his head. “That went well,” he mumbled to himself.

**~**

“Is she asleep?”  Willow asked as Spike descended the stairs after putting Annie to bed that night.

“Yeah,”  Spike answered tiredly.

“I need to talk to you, Red.”  Spike sat down on the couch with Willow.

“Sure.”

Spike took Willow by the shoulders and turned her to face him so he could look her in the eye. “You've gotta' bring Buffy back.”  He said it calmly, as if he were asking her to make a cuppa.

“Spike, I don’t know if I can,” Willow answered.

Spike considered this, she didn’t say no, she didn’t say she couldn’t or that she wouldn’t . . . “So, that means you might be able to?” he asked.

Willow shrugged.

“Buffy said you were the most powerful of all of us, Red.  She had faith in you.” 

“Well, you remember Buffy, nice enough girl, but not too bright . . .” Willow smiled. 

“Willow," Spike used her name for possibly the first time ever. "Tell me you’ll try.  I can’t go on like this, I just can’t,” Spike pleaded with her.

Willow sighed. “Spike, I don’t want to get your hopes up, but Tara and me, well . . . we’ve been working on something.”  Spike brightened, it was the first time Willow could remember him looking the least bit hopeful since Buffy died.

“Please understand, I don’t know if it will even work, I don’t know if we can even get everything we need to do the spell,”  Willow rushed to say, lest he get his hopes up too much. 

“Tell me what you need.  I might be able to find things you can’t . . . on the black market, in the underground.”  Tears of hope were threatening at the back of Spike’s eyes. “Let me help.”

**~**

September, 2001:

Willow, Tara, Xander, Anya and Spike were in the training room, a large double circle of candles surrounded Willow, one black and one white.  Willow sat in the exact center of the circle of candles, holding the Urn of Osiris in her hands, in front of her was a photograph of Buffy.

Tara, Xander, Anya and Spike stood at the four compass points, North, South, East and West.  Willow began the spell to bring Buffy back:

"Osiris, keeper of the gate, master of all fate, hear us.

Before time, and after."

Willow dipped her finger in the blood in the urn and touched her forehead with it.

"Before knowing and nothing."

Willow dipped her finger in the blood in the urn and touched her eyelids with it.

"Accept our offering. Know our prayer.

 "Osiris! The warrior of the people has sacrificed her life protecting the world.

"Let her cross over.

"Osiris, let her cross over!

"Osiris, release her!"

Willow poured the remaining blood over the picture of Buffy that was in front of her.  As soon as the last drop left the urn and dripped onto the photograph, a bolt of energy shot from each of the people outside the circle into Willow.  Willow’s head snapped back, her eyes turned black with magicks and her arms stretched to the ceiling.   Suddenly all the energy that was flowing into her, shot up through her finger tips, there was a bright flash of light and what sounded like a crack of thunder, then all the candles blew out and everything was still and quiet. 

The five people in the room collapsed, completely drained of energy.

Buffy blinked, tried to focus her eyes, but everything was dark.  Where she had at one moment been encompassed in warmth and golden light, she now was somewhere cold and dark.   She tried to feel around her, to figure out where she was, but couldn’t feel anything she recognized.

“Hello?” she called out timidly, biting her lip and rubbing her eyes.  “Hello?” she tried again.

“Buffy?”  she heard someone say.

“Where am I?”  Buffy asked.  Suddenly, someone lit a candle and she could see people lying on the floor around her, she turned to look all around, squinted to try and make out who it was. 

“Hello?”  she called again. 

Suddenly Spike was in front of her. “Buffy!” he said too loudly and she backed away, holding her ears. 

“Where am I?” she asked again.

“Buffy,” Spike said more calmly now. “Buffy, you’re home, luv.  Christ, you’re home!”

“Spike?”  Buffy tried to focus on the face in front of her.

“Yeah, luv.  It’s me.”  He reached a hand out to touch her face, to make sure she was real.  She pulled back from him and he stilled his hand in midair. “It’s ok, Buffy, everything’s ok now,” he said soothingly.

“What happened?” 

“Glory . . . you died. We brought you back.”  Spikes eyes threatened tears, but for the first time in months, they were tears of joy.  He reached for her again and this time she didn’t pull away.  He laid his hand gently on her cheek and closed his eyes, she was real, she was here. Buffy was back.

Willow, Xander, Anya and Tara were up now and standing around the pair, Buffy was nude and Xander ran and grabbed a throw from the couch and brought it back to Spike.

 “Here, luv, let’s do this.” He held the small blanket out and wrapped it around her.  Buffy took it and held it under her arms, looking around at the faces surrounding her.

Willow knelt down beside them. “Buffy, do you know us?”

“Willow,”  Buffy responded slowly.

“Right!  You remember!” Willow exclaimed, sending Buffy sliding back away from her and covering her ears.

“Oh, sorry.  Buffy, I’m sorry,”  Willow said in a quiet voice.  “Do you need something to eat, or drink or . . . anything at all?”

Buffy furrowed her brow and shook her head.

“Mmmaybe she needs to rest. This was probably as big a shock to her as it was to us,” Tara suggested.

Buffy looked at her and tilted her head, then looked at Xander and Anya and back to Tara.

“Do I know you?”  Buffy asked.

“Oh, Buffy, this is Tara, she’s my . . . umm . . . my friend.  She’s a witch, too!”  Willow explained.

Buffy nodded, but still looked confused.  “I think maybe I should lie down, maybe sleep will help.  I feel . . . foggy,” Buffy agreed with Tara’s suggestion.

“Right, then.  Here we go.” Spike scooped her up in his arms and stood up in one motion.  Holding her against his chest he thought he’d die of happiness right then. Buffy was back!

Spike carried her upstairs to their room, the room he hadn’t been able to go into since she’d died.  When he opened the door, he was relieved to see that someone had cleaned in here, probably Red, he thought.  He laid Buffy down on the bed and knelt beside her, taking her hands in his. 

“Buffy, I missed you so much, luv.”

“How long?”  Buffy asked.

“147 days yesterday . . . 148 days today.  But I guess today doesn’t count now, does it?” he told her.

“How long was it for you, where you were?”  he asked.

“Longer,” she replied and Spike nodded.

“Annie?”  Buffy questioned.

“She’s fine, luv, perfectly fine!   You saved her, you saved both of us.  Do you want to see her now?”  Tears welled in Spike’s eyes again as he looked at his wife, the person he thought he’d never see again was actually here, back in their bed, back in his unlife.

“Maybe in the morning would be better?” Buffy answered slowly.

“Sure, luv, whatever you want,” he smiled at her.

Spike reached up to the chain he wore around his neck. Opening the clasp, he slid two rings off it and into his hand.  Taking Buffy’s left hand in his, he slid her engagement ring and wedding band back onto her finger.

“God, Buffy, you don’t know how I missed you, luv.  I love you so much.”  Still kneeling beside her, he laid his head down on her abdomen and let the tears that had been threatening fall freely. 

She ran a hand through his hair. “I love you, too, Spike.”

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