It was a little after six o’clock when Buffy stepped off the bus at the Sunnydale station. Her heart was pounding and her stomach felt like a million butterflies had just set up residence there. No. Not butterflies. This was no normal case of stage fright variety butterflies. Birds, maybe? *Big* birds? She could not remember the last time she had felt so terrified.

She glanced around apprehensively, not really sure why she expected to see some visible sign of the trouble Spike had hinted out. On the surface, everything looked the same as it ever had. Sunnydale’s citizens went about their business all around her as she made her way on trembling legs out of the station and started down the sidewalk toward her house.

No. Not her house. Not anymore. Her mother’s house.

*Oh, God. Mom,* she thought, choking back a sob. She missed her mother terribly and a part of her was desperate to see her. But another part of her was terrified, remembering her mother’s final words to her before she had left, wondering if her mother would even be happy to see her after all this time.

Now that she was actually here, it hardly even seemed real to her, she had been gone for so long. Everything she saw along the well-known way toward her old home was both familiar and foreign to her. She could hardly even imagine talking to her family, her friends, who had not been a part of her life for so long now. And yet her memories of happier times seemed at times to have happened only days ago, so vivid they were in her mind.

But the simple fact was, it *was* real, and she was really here in Sunnydale, and about to see them all again. She stopped on the sidewalk, staring with a sense of shock up the walkway to the house. She was here. And she could not seem to make her feet move up the path to the front door.

But Spike’s troubling, cryptic words to her echoed in her mind, and a new fear drove her up the path, nervous and wanting to prove to herself that everything was all right, that her family and friends were okay, and Spike had just been playing his ridiculous mind games with her, trying to freak her out and make her lose the fight so he could kill her.

Except that by that point, they hadn’t been fighting anymore…just talking.

And by that point, he could have killed her already if that had been what he wanted…but he hadn’t.

And how weird was that?

She shook her head, calling her thoughts back to the present as she forced her frozen feet to propel her the rest of the way to the front door. She stood there for a very long time, drawing deep but shaky breaths, trying to settle her nerves. A couple of times, she almost turned and walked away.

*I can’t do this, I can’t do this,* she told herself, fighting a sense of overwhelming panic as she made her finger descend on the doorbell and press it down before she could lose control and flee.

Her heart did a strange little flip-flop at the sound, and she imagined that she felt and heard its beat increase in speed. Oh, God, she was going to hyperventilate! She couldn’t do this, she had to leave, had to get…

The door opened, and her thoughts froze in place as she waited, breathless and terrified.

She was very surprised when not her mother but Xander answered the door – with a stake in his hand. For the millionth time in the last hour or so, she felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of her friend, standing in the doorway, staring at her as if he could hardly comprehend that she was really there.

He probably couldn’t, she realized with a pang of guilt. She had just taken off, not said a word to anyone, left the Hellmouth unguarded and her friends to face…what?

“Buffy,” he whispered, his voice sounding stunned, almost awed. His mouth hung open a little once the single word had passed his lips as he just stared at her for a moment. Wordlessly, he pulled her inside, his subconscious remembering that it would only be safe for her to be outside for another couple of minutes, while his conscious still struggled with the fact that she was actually, really there!

He closed the door behind them, locking it, and turned to face her again, still wide-eyed in shock. Then, a moment later, he threw his arms around her and pulled her to him in an almost desperate embrace, his arms hard around her, but trembling, and she felt something wet fall onto her face and realized that he was crying.

And then she realized that *she* was crying as she opened her eyes and couldn’t see him through the blur of tears. “Xander,” she gasped. “Oh my God, Xander!”

“Buffy!” he cried. “I knew you’d come back!”

For a few long moments they just held each other and cried. There were so many questions each of them had for the other, so much hurt that needed to be expressed and forgiven – but in that moment, all of that was eclipsed by the tremendous relief of simply being together again.

When they slowly pulled apart, Buffy looked up at him through red, tear-filled eyes. “W-where’s my mom and Dawnie?” she asked softly, her voice trembling. She frowned a little, confused, then said with a nervous little half-laugh through her tears, realizing how rude her next question would sound, and also that he would not take it that way. “Why are you here?”

She had expected him to laugh with her, but in an instant the joy at her return was gone from his expressive dark eyes, and he looked down, not meeting her eye.

At that moment, she heard a soft sound from the stairs, and turned to see Willow, standing there, frozen at the sight of her. She didn’t move, didn’t speak for a moment, just stared at her in stunned disbelief.

“Will,” Buffy said, her voice coming out as a broken whimper, as she went to her friend and put her arms around her. She was so relieved to see her, so caught up in the emotion of the moment, that she didn’t even notice that her friend did not return her embrace. She just stood there, motionless, allowing Buffy to hug her, but making no move to respond.

After a moment Buffy noticed, and pulled back, guilt mingled with the hurt in her eyes. But Willow didn’t see it; she was staring at the floor. Why could neither of them meet her eyes? she wondered with a dark feeling of foreboding.

“I – I’m sorry, Willow,” she said softly. “I should have told you I was going…I shouldn’t have just taken off like that. I have so much to tell you, and so much happened that night, I just had to get away. But I should have told you…”

Suddenly Willow’s eyes snapped up to hers, and Buffy’s words cut off as the anger in Willow’s eyes took her breath. “You should have *been* here!” Willow snapped, correcting Buffy’s assessment of her mistakes in the situation.

And suddenly, a cold feeling swept over Buffy as she remembered again Spike’s warning to her about what had been happening in Sunnydale while she was gone. She still didn’t know, not really, what he had been talking about. But judging by the expressions on the faces of her friends, by Willow’s unexpected fury, he must have been telling the truth.

And it must be even worse than he had said.

“W-where is everyone…else?” she asked suddenly, looking anxiously between her two friends. “Why are you two here, and no one else? Where’s my mom, and Dawn? And…” Her voice trailed off, as she noticed for the first time the pain and heartache that filled both of their eyes.

Xander had still been looking at her, his expression heartsick at Willow’s harsh words, the expression of her pain, understanding the reasons for it but knowing how it must have hurt Buffy, and wanting to see how she was taking it. Now, however, when she began to ask about what had happened, his eyes fell as well.

“God, why won’t either of you *look* at me?” Buffy demanded, not realizing she was raising her voice in her fear, some part of her already understanding that what they were not telling her must be more terrible than she could imagine. “What’s happened?”

“What hasn’t happened, Buffy?” Xander said quietly, sadly, still not looking at her. “There’s – there’s just so much…and…it’s bad, Buffy. Really, really bad.”

“Then tell me,” she insisted slowly, emphatically, her voice trembling with unshed tears and anger. “Tell me what’s going on, so I can do something about it!”

“You can’t *do* anything about it!” Willow snapped, angry tears streaking her own face. “It’s done, Buffy! The time when you could have done something about it is past, okay? But you weren’t here during that time. And now it’s done, and there’s no going back…so why did you even bother coming here?”

Willow’s words hurt her more than she could express, and only served to feed the steadily rising fear in her. “You have no idea what happened to me that night, Will!” she shot back angrily. “I *couldn’t* stay! I couldn’t! You know, I might be the Slayer, but I’m human, Willow! And *anybody* would have taken off after…after what…” She stopped, trying to control the sobs that rose in her at the memories that she had forced back for so long, brought back to the surface by the very emotional confrontation.

“Okay,” Xander said quietly, stepping forward and between the two girls, realizing that he was going to have to be the one to take control of the rapidly deteriorating situation. “Okay, guys. This is hard. A lot of stuff has happened…to you, too, Buffy, I know…” he added, looking at her as he spoke, and then back to Willow pointedly. “But we all just need to calm down.” He looked back to Buffy. “There’s a lot you need to know about Buffy. A lot of bad things…”

He swallowed hard, fighting with his own emotions, struggling to keep them under control, because Buffy and Willow were at each other’s throats, and Buffy still had no idea about all that they had lost, all that *she* had lost, and if *he* lost control right now, too….

Willow slowly looked down again, beginning to gain control and realize her mistake. The anger was still very much there, but she was trying to hold it back, understanding that there was a very important, very painful conversation that still needed to be had.

Xander looked at her, until she looked up at him, carefully avoiding looking at Buffy. “I’m going to fill Buffy in on what’s happened while she was gone,” he said slowly, firmly, his tone much more authoritative than Buffy remembered it, leaving no room for argument. “You go upstairs and talk to Dawnie. Tell her…tell her Buffy’s home.”

“I want to tell her,” Buffy protested, heading for the stairs.

“No!” Willow snapped, anger and accusation again clear in her eyes. “Do you have any idea what it did to her when you left? What’s happened to her *because* you left?” she demanded tearfully.

“Will,” Xander warned her, quietly but urgently, and she stopped.

She was obviously struggling with her own anger as she looked away from Buffy again. When she spoke again, her voice was low and controlled. “This is going to be a big shock for her, Buffy. I’m going to tell her…break the news to her easy. Then if she wants to see you…”

“If she *wants* to see me?” Buffy repeated incredulously, stepping forward again. “She’s my *sister*, Willow, and if you think…”

“*Stop*!” Xander suddenly raised his voice, and both girls froze, not looking at him but waiting in silence for him to go on. “Willow’s right,” he finally said, giving Buffy a look that was only slightly apologetic. “If you just go up there, Dawnie’s probably gonna freak out. Let Willow let her know you’re here first. Then you can see her. There’s some things I need to tell you first.”

As he spoke he reached out a gentle hand and caught her arm, and though they both knew that she could have broken his grip in an instant, could have shoved Willow out of the way and insisted on going up the stairs to see her sister like she wanted to…she didn’t. She forced herself to relax the tensed, confrontational stance her body had taken on, and allowed him to lead her into the living room to the sofa while Willow went on upstairs.

“Why does *Willow* have to tell her?” Buffy asked, and the look on her face, the frightened tears in her eyes, told Xander that she was not being spiteful. “Where’s my *mom*, Xander?”

He forced himself to look her in the eyes, as he slowly began to explain the sequence of events after she had left, avoiding her question at first. He told her about Faith, and how everything had been great to begin with, until she had started building her vampire gangs, terrorizing innocent people, taking whatever she wanted from whoever she wanted and allowing the vampires to run rampant through Sunnydale and do whatever they wanted.

“What about the police? The authorities?” Buffy asked, frowning with concern, hardly able to believe what he was telling her.

“What can the police do, Buffy?” he said, a hopeless note in his voice. “Most of them were the first to go – one way or the other,” he went on, darkly. “The ones who *did* try to stand up to her got killed. The others took their families and got out of town as fast as they could. A lot of people did.”

“So…is there like *any* city government or authority in Sunnydale at all right now?” she asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

“No,” Xander replied sadly. “Right at the start, the mayor stood up against her and was telling everyone how she was dangerous and evil and the biggest threat to family values since ‘Ellen’.” He paused. “But one of her gangs took him down. He’s dead. Along with anybody else who stood up to her.”

“No one can even leave their homes after dark anymore without getting attacked. The vampires are totally in control. They do what they want. Kill who they want.” He paused for a moment, looking down at the couch, and when he looked up his eyes were full of tears. “They killed Cordy.”

“Oh, no!” she gasped, her eyes widening in horrified sympathy for her friend, and she reached out to pull him into her arms. “Oh, Xander, I’m so sorry!” Her own eyes welled with tears. She and Cordelia had never really been on the best of terms, but she knew that she had meant a lot to Xander, and the thought of her actually being killed by vampires was still a painful one – she *knew* her!

Xander allowed her comforting gesture for a moment before pulling away, and she knew he had more to tell her. A lot more.

“Oz and I – we weren’t gonna let them get away with it,” he began slowly. “It was the full moon, and we went down to her headquarters at sunset to take them all down.”

Buffy’s eyes grew wider at the thought of calm, sensible Oz deliberately choosing to unleash his wolf-self on Faith and her minions.

“We did a lot of damage,” Xander went on, with a soft ironic laugh, staring down at the couch between them. “We killed all of her vamp lackeys that were there. Except one.” His eyes narrowed in hatred as he looked up at her. “Spike.”

“Spike? Spike’s working with Faith?” she said, stunned. In a way she was not surprised, but in another way it just didn’t make sense. Why would he come to LA and tell her about what was happening here in Sunnydale if he was working for Faith? Unless he was just incredibly stupid and was just trying to rile her in the midst of their confrontation, not thinking about the consequences.

Yeah, that pretty much sounded like Spike.

Xander’s next words pulled her out of her wondering thoughts. “He killed Oz.”

“What?” The word came out in a shocked whisper. “Oz – Oz is dead?” She turned her head and gazed up the stairs, her eyes stricken with sudden understanding. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Spike killed Oz. And I was gone…and if I’d been here…” She stopped, shaking her head. Suddenly she looked back up at him with a horrified, almost panicked expression. “And Cordy! Oh my God, Xander, I’m so sorry!”

“No,” he said softly, not meeting her eyes, and she could tell that although he was trying to comfort her, he had been thinking the same thing. “It’s not your fault, Buffy,” he said, but the words sounded weak. “You couldn’t have known what would happen. And…” he added hurriedly before she could protest, knowing that he had to get the rest out while he still could. “And there’s more.”

She swallowed hard, sensing that this would be the hardest blow yet, and bravely forced herself to meet his eyes. “What is it?” she prompted when he didn’t speak. “Xander, *tell* *me*.”

“After – after we went down there – and killed all her guys,” he began, his voice trembling and hesitant. “They – they wanted to retaliate. They – they…” He stopped. He simply couldn’t do this. He couldn’t find the strength to speak the words and tell her what had happened.

But she was beginning to understand. “Xander,” she said, her voice trembling and her wide eyes focused on his. Her words were slow and even as she went on, “Where is my mother?”

Xander flinched, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, fighting for control. “Buffy,” he began softly, trying to find the words. But his tone said all she could bear to hear.

She stood up suddenly, still staring at him and shaking her head slowly in denial as she took a couple of backward steps away from him. “No,” she whispered in a trembling voice full of fury and pain. “No…tell me that she’s…tell me she’s not…”

Xander did not say a word. He couldn’t. Tears streaked his face as he stared at the couch, swallowing back a sob.

“No,” she repeated, refusing to accept it. “No, no it’s not true…” her voice rising with every word. “No, you’re lying, she’s alive, no I won’t believe that, *no*!” The last word was a scream of anguish as she stepped forward aggressively, demanding with her body if not her words that he take it back, that he tell her he was lying, tell her anything, but just tell her that her mother was alive.

He flinched instinctively at her aggressive advance, only to have her collapse to her knees on the floor in the next moment, sobbing brokenly as she wrapped her arms around herself, as if physically trying to hold herself together, to keep from falling to pieces.

He left the couch and knelt beside her, tentatively reaching to put his arms around her. “I’m so sorry, Buffy,” he began, sobbing with her. “I’m so sorry…”

She sobbed in his arms for a few minutes, shaking and rocking slightly, moaning softly in pain and disbelief. “No! Mom! Oh, mom! Mommy! No, no, no!” she sobbed until her voice broke and she dissolved into deep, shuddering sobs.

He just stayed there with her, holding her for a few minutes. Suddenly, she broke out of his embrace, staggering to her feet. He looked up at her, alarmed, because she still seemed terribly shaken and unstable.

“Buffy,” he began cautiously, slowly standing up himself, as he took in the sudden change in her demeanor. Her face had transformed. It was still tear-soaked, and her lips were trembling, but her eyes had hardened with fury and blind rage. He recognized that look in her eyes, and he knew what it could lead to.

“Are there any weapons here?” she asked him, her voice low and full of fury.

“Buffy, you shouldn’t…”

“Where are the weapons, Xander?” she demanded, in a tone that did not allow for argument.

Wordlessly he pointed to the chest against the wall by the stairs, and watched as she threw it open, and began to quickly arm herself with several large stakes, and a wicked-looking curved dagger.

She turned back to him, meeting his eyes with her own blazing with fury and determination. “Who did it?” she asked him flatly. “Who killed my mother?”

He looked down at the floor for a moment, wishing for some way to dissuade her from what could very well be a suicide mission. But he thought back over all the times he had seen Buffy fight before, and remembered that she could hold her own. Why had they so longed for her return, if she was not capable of taking on Faith and her followers? And now, with her awesome power further fueled by the rage of her grief…

He looked up at her, a new fire in his own eyes. “Spike,” he replied simply. “She was – she was here. And it was a vamp. No other vampire could have gotten into the house.”

Her eyes widened for a moment in surprise. She knew that Spike was a vampire, evil, soulless, without conscience or remorse. But somehow, after their truce the previous year, after inviting him into her home, after he had sat there and talked with her mother while she was on the phone, she had never expected him to harm her family.

No wonder he had made that comment about her family, she realized with new fury coursing through her body. He had come into her home, mercilessly killed her precious mother, who had never hurt anyone, the most important person in her life…and then had the nerve, the cruelty, the utter inhumanity to actually find her just to gloat about it and throw it in her face.

She determined in that moment, with a firm, unyielding resolve: she would make him suffer for the devastation he had wrought in her life, for taking the life of her mother.

Without another word, she turned and stormed out into the dark, forbidding night. Her friend had warned her of the evil that controlled the night in Sunnydale these days, but she was not afraid. The evil things that lurked there, tonight of all nights, should tremble in terror of *her*!

The Slayer had returned to Sunnydale…with a vengeance.