Beta readers for this and the next chapters: DawnofMe and Tanit

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Slayer blood dripped from the sides of his mouth; its taste lingered on his tongue and its power coursed through his veins. This and every other bloody thing – the body limp on the damp dirt, the death-like, shivering silence hovering over the cold cemetery – told him it was real. A menacing, unearthly whisper crept into his mind; told him he'd done something terribly, terribly bad...

It had seemed to be the only solution right from the moment she walked into the wrecked Summers’ home. From the cold, vacant darkness in her eyes and the change in her familiar scent, it was clear: she wasn't the woman he fell in love with.

He'd half-expected her to be traumatized, wherever she'd been. But there was no hint of shock, fear, or uncertainty. Though she was the Slayer, she was still human. That was something the Scoobies sometimes failed to remember.

Buffy seemed apathetic as well. She had not even asked what the bleeding hell was going on. Though she had asked about Dawn and the Scoobies, which he thought to be a good sign, he still felt that something had changed about her.

With a crooked smile, he said, “I don't know where they are exactly. Don't receive memos from that lot, do I?” Buffy only responded with an absent stare. She was still wearing the black dress that she'd been dressed in when they had buried her. “Last I heard from Dawn, they were at Angel's.” He'd anticipated a change in her mood when he mentioned the poof, but she only nodded with disinterest and began to walk around the ruined house.

“It's bloody chaos out there, Slayer,” he said to her above the noise of motorcycles revving and accelerating, demons laughing, and people crying and screaming as he followed her around the house.

“I know.” She seemed to be looking for something. What it might be, Spike had no idea, until she stopped in front of the Summers' weapons chest beneath the shards of glass and rubble. She turned to him in an instant, her eyes still as cold as before. She asked him with uncertainty, “This is my weapons chest, isn't it?”

“Right,” Spike replied slowly, still unable to believe that Buffy was right there in front of him, alive. Of course, it could have been a dream. He'd dreamed about her hundreds of times before. But everything felt so real, so vivid, that he knew he wasn't dreaming this time.

She picked up a couple of weapons with great ease, as if her body had not been laying limp and decaying just a couple of hours ago. She seemed to be stronger than ever and it scared him to death.

“Where are you off to?” He knew bloody well she wasn't going to give him a sodding map or a detailed description, but it was all he could think to say. With all the thoughts running through his mind, it was a wonder he managed even such a simple question.

Buffy examined the array of weapons on hand, determining which to bring and which to leave behind for her quest. When she decided to go with the small ones, the knife and the crossbow, she glanced up at him. “This is my turf. The demons need to know who they're dealing with.”

“You might want to slow down there a little, love,” Spike hurriedly said. “You've just come back from...” He shifted as the word hell came into his mind, though Buffy's glance was still blank, as if it didn't bother her at all. “I don't know what you've been through but--”

She did the infamous Buffy Summers' eye roll, which comforted him a little and reassured him that she was indeed Buffy. She spun around, flipping her hair, and walked towards the threshold. “I'm fine,” she said over her shoulder.

This is Buffy, Spike assured himself. Stubborn Buffy. He'd moved past her, beating her to the front door and grabbing her arm just as she grasped the doorknob. That was when he saw her bloodied knuckles. He withdrew his hand and Buffy did the same but with not the least hint of embarrassment.

“Your hand,”he said in a sympathetic voice. Buffy ducked her head. “Had to crawl your way out of your grave, didn't you?”

Buffy lifted her head, her eyes nothing short of complete passivity. “I guess you would know. You, being dead and all.” Ignoring Spike's dropped jaw and raised eyebrow, she made her way out of the house.

Spike grumbled a few incoherent words and ran after her.

Sensing the vampire right behind her, Buffy spun around. She held up her hand to stop him. “What do you think you're doing?”

“What's it look like I'm doing? I'm coming with you.”

“No, you're not,” she said firmly. Taking a few steps to him so that they were face to face, she said through gritted teeth, “I am doing this alone. And if you don't want to end up gone with the wind, you'd better stay out of my way... vampire.” She stepped back, looked him up and down, and turned from him, continuing to walk away.

Spike stood there, stunned and speechless, his mouth agape, his unnecessary breathing fast. She wasn't Buffy.

“Fine! Do whatever you like, you crazy bitch!” Immediately, he regretted his words and shouted, “Be careful!”

Spike continued to look after her as she walked away. There was no way in hell he was going to leave her alone.



Buffy scoured Sunnydale for the place where most of the demons were. She ended up at the Bronze and with a shrug, she said, “Figures.” She'd walked in, crossbow in hand and knife hidden beneath her dress. “So this is where the party's at.” Every demon in the Bronze eyed her as she continued to saunter further into the hall.

“Slayer,” one demon growled, and then charged at her, full force.

Buffy knocked him unconscious with one upper cut, making the rest of the demons lined up against the wall shrink back.

“So...” Buffy said coyly as she stood in the middle of the roomful of demons.

One demon stepped forward. He appeared to be the leader of the group, acting as if he weren’t afraid of the Slayer in their midst. He had pointy teeth peeking out from behind his colorless lips. His eyes were deep red, his nose pudgy with two huge holes. His skin was pale yellow with orange splotches. “Thought you were dead.”

Buffy twirled the crossbow and shrugged, “I was. Guess I bounce back quickly.”

“How do you want to do this?”

“Beg pardon?” Buffy asked, still playing innocent.

“Think you could take us all?”

Buffy chuckled and the demons growled. “Oh, I'm not here to fight, Mister...” She looked the demon up and down with her nose wrinkled. “Ugly-pants.”

The demon clenched his jaw. “Then what are ya here for?”

“A proposition,” Buffy answered straightforwardly.