Fumbling Towards Ecstasy
Lovesbitch91

Summary: Spuffy. Up to NC-17. A new take on Season Six, in which Buffy's not so mean and there's a new Slayer coming to town....
Disclaimer: Joss owns all. Also, all lyrics and chapter titles come from Sarah McLachlan.
A/N: Did you like it? Not like it? Leave me a review- they’re always welcome.

Chapter Two: Wait

“When all we wanted was the dream,
to have and to hold that precious thing
like every generation yields the newborn hope unjaded by their years”

A million things she had seen and felt and experienced in a hundred and forty-seven nights. Or thought she had. The tortures her friends believed she had experienced… there hadn’t been any true tortures until she’d been brought back to life. Images that awoke painful remembrance when she closed her eyes, and they flooded her mind. Of course she couldn’t tell them. They were so happy, glad she was back and among them, proud of what they’d done. Saved her from hell.

They were wrong. They hadn’t brought her back from hell. They’d only just introduced her back into it.

******

“Morning sleepyhead.” Willow glanced over to Dawn as she sat, groggy-eyed, at the kitchen island. Tara was busy at the stove, working her magic at turning Bisquick pancake mix into Mickey Mouse and Friends. Sliding a Mickey with mismatched ears onto a plate, Tara set the plate before Dawn.

“Eat up. Xander will be here soon to give you a ride to school.” Tara handed her a glass of milk before kissing Willow quickly on the cheek and returning to the stove. Willow smiled, watching Dawn slather her pancakes in syrup.

“I called Giles this morning. He said he’d be on the first flight back,” Willow said, hovering next to Dawn. She looked up in acknowledgment, and nodded.

“Where’s Buffy?” she asked through a mouthful of food. “I wanted to check up on her before I left for school.”

Willow grabbed a steaming mug of coffee, pointing to the back door. “Outside. I was just gonna take her some coffee.”

Dawn wiped her mouth and stood up abruptly, nearly knocking the chair over in the process. “I’ll take it to her.”

******

Everything seemed so much more peaceful, curled up on the lounge chair with her knees to her chest. The birds twittered occasionally, and the grass smelt of morning dew. The sun wasn’t too bright, crowded as it was by fluffy clouds.

The back door swung open, then, and Buffy turned to see Dawn holding a cup of coffee at arm’s length as she gingerly took the porch steps one by one.

“Hey Buff.” She took the cup, making room for Dawn to sit next to her. “Brought you some coffee…” Dawn seemed at a loss for something to say, so Buffy raised the cup to her lips, taking a small sip of the sweetened coffee.

“You have school today?” Buffy didn’t look up from her cup, staring at the creamy brown surface, at the tiny frothy bubbles along the rim.

“Yeah, Xander’s picking me up on his way to the site.” Dawn was fumbling with her hands now. “Are you okay?” Her voice was hesitant, and Buffy reflected on how often people asked her that, ‘Are you okay?’ It was becoming habitual, even in the last two days she’d been home. ‘Are you okay?’ before bed, after dinner, after she took her showers. When she woke up, when she entered the room.

“I’m good. Getting back to, y’know, life. And being me. It’s- it’s been awhile.” She felt a prickling in her eyes, a heaviness in her gut. Even as she reassured her sister that it was ok, it really wasn’t. She had half a desire to go crazy, rend her garments and pull her hair out. No it wasn’t okay; no she didn’t feel better. No, I’m not glad you brought me back from being peaceful, and happy, and okay. None of this is okay.

“Giles is coming back. I know you’ll be happy to see him.” Buffy looked up at this. Giles. Good old dusty, tweed-suit Giles. Giles, who continuously wiped his glasses and ‘hrrmm-hrrmmed’ at any inappropriate joke. Yes, she would be happy to see Giles.

“That’s good. I mean great. I can’t wait to see him.” She forced a half-smile, as her eyes drifted to the house. “Xander’s here.”

Dawn turned her head, looking up at the house. A moment later the door opened, and Xander’s head poked out. He smiled, that good ole’ goofy Xander smile, and waved.

“Hey Buff! How’s it going?” Buffy grimaced, and waved back. “Hey Dawnie let’s go! We’re gonna be late.”

Dawn rose up, leaning over to kiss Buffy quickly on the cheek. “You’ll be here when I get home?”

Fresh-faced and hopeful. That’s what Dawn was. Not even her death and subsequent revival had dampened her eagerness. Buffy quirked the edges of her mouth up into a smile.

“Yeah, have fun at school.”

******

What had she done before, during the long daylight hours? She’d gone to school, perhaps, though more often not due to her mother’s illness. She’d hung out at the beach, shopped sometimes.

The house was empty now. She walked up and down the stairs, took in the changes Willow and Tara had made with her mothers’ room. She felt a slight proprietary twinge, that this should have been her room after her mother’s death. Her own room was not much changed, except for a thick coat of dust. She imagined nobody here had wanted to venture into her room while she was gone.

But it was only eight o’clock in the morning. Willow and Tara had left early for classes, Dawn was maybe just into her second class of the day, Xander was at work and Buffy didn’t much want to visit Anya at the Magic Box. So she settled onto the couch, tried to focus on the early morning cartoons that were almost over. Yet her legs were restless, and she felt crowded in the empty house.

Rising to her feet, she searched out her shoes and left the house.

******

Even in the daylight, her feet wended their way towards the cemetery. Her mind drifted, and when she came to, she blinked at her surroundings. The gravestones and tombs looked peaceful now, in the light of day. There were no tall shadows disgorging demons, no fresh graves churning with fledgling vampires. Instead there were birds, and squirrels racing across the tombs. It all seemed so fresh, and pure. Unadultered. Buffy realized she couldn’t remember the last time she’d walked through a graveyard during the day.

She spotted Spike’s crypt, a little way off. She hesitated, her steps leading her in the opposite direction. Looking about her, as if to see someone she knew waving at her, she turned back towards the crypt and slowly made her way to the thick stone door.

******

Big, placid eyes looked up at him. Her smiling lips invited him in and he dipped his mouth to hers. Sweet Buffy scent wafting up to him from her hair, her golden-tan skin. His pale hands skimmed her shoulders, reaching up for her face as he kissed her slowly, sweetly. Buffy Buffy Buffy… She encompassed him, her arms circling him as she pulled him in close to her. Their bodies were moving together, a deep, slow, rocking movement as he covered her.
“Spike…” Her voice, so serene and soft. He’d never head her talk like this, least of all to him, and it made him vibrate… “Spike…”

******

He awoke with a sudden jerk, to see her perched on the edge of the bed, knees drawn to her chin. She didn’t take any notice of him, staring blankly at the opposite wall, but she spoke up suddenly.

“What did you mean, when you said you didn’t think I was happy here?” Her voice was soft, quiet, but not the intimate whisper he’d imagined in his dream. Bunching the sheets around his waist, he sat forward and stared hard at her.

“Not sure I catch your meaning, love.” She turned to him then, those big wide eyes that had never looked as soft and sad as they did now.

“I’m not.” Her eyes were glistening again, and he frowned. She buried her face between her drawn-up knees, and took a deep ragged breath. “I keep having these dreams… except they’re more like nightmares, and I’m back again, back… in the box, the coffin. And I have to crawl out again… But it seems I never get out, I just keep fighting and never get out…”

Spike had a hard time believing what was right in front of him. Thick, liquid drops were falling from her eyes, her voice was hitching and her shoulders were trembling. His heart nearly broke then, and he sat up a bit more.

“C’mere, love.” He opened his arms for her, and she stared blankly at him for a moment too long. He almost feared she would spurn him, would crawl off his bed and throw something, call him names and storm out in that holier-than-thou way of hers. But she didn’t; instead she hung her head and crawled across the big bed to him, let him take her in his arms.

She’ll kill me for this later, when she’s better.

She was stiff in his embrace, her own arms still held close around herself; but his hands were soothing her, petting her gently, allowing her to relax against him. Her eyes were closed, face buried against his chest. As he held her, she began to cry softly, tiny mewing cries that were weak, but grew heavier, stronger. His bare chest was hot and sticky from her fevered body and hot tears, but he shifted her closer as she clung to his neck and cried.

When she’d finished her cry, she seemed content to lie against him, arms still looped around his neck. They sat in the quiet, and neither seemed inclined towards conversation. He’d almost dozed off before he heard her voice speak up, trembling and on the verge of hysterical sobs.

“They think they brought me back from hell.”

This confused Spike, but he said nothing, just rubbed a hand across her back. He tried a few words in his mind, but found no appropriate answer and decided to stay silent. Gently, she pulled away, came to sit on the bed across from him, legs crossed. She wiped her hands across her wet eyes, and looked up at him.

“They think they brought me back from hell, but they didn’t. I- I don’t know where I… but it wasn’t hell. I was happy, I was okay. Not now, though. I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again…” She drew in a deep breath, steadying herself as she looked up into his eyes. He was staring at her, head cocked, quizzical expression in his eyes. General confusion marked his face as he watched her intently.

“I think I was in Heaven.”

Her eyes were downcast as she said this, but they rose up instantly to meet his. At once, his own expression dropped, and an overwhelming feeling of grief and pity overtook him. She was crying again, tears slipping silently over her face as he took her into his arms again, cradling her against his shoulder. He gripped her tight, nearly refusing to let go as she finished her crying.

“Buffy, love, I’m so sorry for you pet.” His voice was full of sadness for her. “Those bloody friends of yours are idiots, bringing you back… should’ve known you wouldn’t be in hell. You’re the bloody Slayer…”

She let out a short, harsh laugh. “Spike, I know I’m all messed up right now, I mean I’m the standing definition of messed up, but you? What happened to you while I was gone? Never knew you to be so nice.”

“Yeh, and I’m not nice. Just care for you is all. Can’t help it.” He looked at her sheepishly now, and she imagined he would’ve blushed if he could. But he met her eyes and smiled, “God ‘n’ the Devil both know I’ve tried.”

******

When she woke up again, it was alone in Spike’s crypt. She’d never seen the bottom portion of the crypt done up so nice. The bed was a giant four-poster, with silk draping and sheets and soft feather pillows. Rolls of Persian carpet lay over the stone floor, and everywhere were flickering tapers. She looked around for him, and deciding he’d left, gathered her shoes and set off.

She made her way through the darkened cemetery back home. The house itself was empty, and Dawn had left a note that she’d gone to Janice’s for the night. Willow and Tara were also gone, leaving a message that they were at the Magic Box, and would Buffy come, too, as soon as she got home?

Another quarter mile walk and she pushed through the doors, the little bell above the door chiming in her arrival. At once her gaze found Giles, and she was suddenly rushing forward, sailing into his open arms. He grabbed her tight, squeezing her as if reaffirming her existence.

“Oh my god, Giles, I missed you.” She felt the tears well up for the five-hundredth and forty-eighth time that day, but she suppressed them as she squeezed Giles even harder.

“Buffy, dear God, it’s good to see you again.” He’d stepped back, was wiping his glasses, and Buffy stepped back, too. She spotted, behind Giles, a fair-haired girl sitting at the round research table. She looked from her to Giles, awaiting an explanation.

“Oh, oh yes. I’d nearly forgotten. Buffy, Adia. Adia, Buffy.” Buffy waved politely at the girl, who timidly followed suit. “Buffy, Adia was the Slayer called shortly after your death this summer. I’ve brought her back with me for her formal training.”

“So you’re working for the Council again?” Buffy crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow to her Watcher.

“Ah, well, yes. They’ve asked me back, conditional upon the fact that they must provide all active Slayers with an ample salary.”

“Salary?” Buffy felt a smile rise to her lips. Yesterday, she had sat with Willow and Xander and Anya and reviewed months of past-due bills, lagging insurance payments. Giles smiled, hands tucked in his pockets.

“Yes, yes. I’ll have your first check ready for you tomorrow. For now I have some things to speak to Anya about.” He stepped away, after a second quick hug, and gestured for Anya. At once Xander bounded over, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

“Hey Buff, sorry I couldn’t talk a bit more to you earlier. Was fighting traffic all the way to the site.” He guided her across to the table, sat next to her. “But how’re you? Doin’ okay?” Buffy winced a little bit at this precursory greeting, but smiled and nodded.

“Not feeling a hundred and ten percent yet, but I’m getting there.” Xander smiled and nodded, turned to Willow who was flipping through some ancient looking text next to him. The red head looked across at her, smiled, looked back down at her book.

Adia was staring straight at Buffy as she turned to face the junior Slayer. She was fair-skinned, fair-haired. Her white-blond eyebrows were nearly nonexistent, her blue eyes wide and innocent. She smiled warmly at Buffy, raising a hand.

“Hi!” She was so fresh-faced, it almost hurt. Buffy could hardly believe her to be more than fifteen or sixteen, and she knew she wouldn’t see many more birthdays after that. But she smiled politely, questioned her about her family, which lived in the northeast, near Canada. She said she’d never thought vampires and demons existed until Mr. Robinson from the Council had fetched her from her home, taken her through the graveyards, shown her what kind of power she possessed.

“Where is he now? I mean, shouldn’t you be with him now, instead of with Giles?” Buffy felt the sharpness in her voice, and instantly bit her tongue for it. She felt especially bad as Adia’s face fell and her brow furrowed.

“He died.”

“Oh.” They sat in silence for the next couple of minutes before Buffy excused herself. Tapping Giles on the shoulder, she hugged him goodbye, explaining that she’d better get started on slaying, that she was surprised the place hadn’t been run-through during her absence.

“Very well,” He smiled at her, touching her shoulder gently. “And Buffy, I just want to let you know, we’re all very glad you're back.” Buffy looked around to see all her friends staring at her, half smiles on their faces, all love and warm feelings.

“Yeah, thanks.” She tried to smile, failed miserably, and turned for the door.

******