Chapter 1: Homecoming

“Dawnie, help me dry?” said Willow, clearing the dinner dishes from the dining room table. Tara was already in the kitchen, spooning the leftovers into plastic containers. As the others headed into the kitchen to clean up, Buffy slipped up the stairs to her room.

Dawn watched her go with a pout on her face. “Why doesn’t Buffy ever have to help with the dishes?”

Willow opened her mouth to respond, but couldn’t come up with a decent reason. “She’s been through a lot,” said Tara, ever the diplomat. She caught the wayward sleeve of Willow’s peasant blouse and rolled it back up past her elbow so it wouldn’t fall in the sink. Giving Willow’s arm a comforting pat, she said, “She just needs time to adjust, that’s all. I’m sure once things get back to normal, she’ll help out more around the house, like she used to.” Her voice had a tinge of wistfulness that undermined her attempted confidence.

“It’s not fair.” Dawn reluctantly grabbed the dishtowel and began to dry.

Willow adopted her sympathetic Willow-face as she handed the dishes to the younger girl. Despite Tara’s assurances, she understood how Dawn was feeling. Buffy was so different since they’d brought her back, and Willow missed the old Buffy terribly. She missed the Buffy who’d been her best friend for four and a half years. The Buffy who talked to her, and laughed with her, and shared secrets with her. The Buffy who would’ve been happy that they’d brought her back to life.

The clean up crew was interrupted by a knock at the front door. Tara went to answer it as Willow and Dawn dried their hands and followed behind her.

“Giles!” They found Tara wrapped in the embrace of the returned Watcher, and rushed to join them in a group hug. “You’re back!” said Willow.

“How was your flight?” asked Tara, taking his tweed jacket from him and hanging it on the hooks by the door.

“Dreadful.” Giles shook his head. He hated flying. Means of torture, it was, just short of bamboo shoots under one’s fingernails. “But I’m here now.” He looked around at them, taking in their faces one at a time. “It’s good to see you all.”

“We missed you,” said Dawn, clinging to him in a way that betrayed the childishness still lurking beneath the teenage veneer.

“And I you.” He patted her hair in a fatherly way. “Where’s…” He stopped, choking up a bit. He found it hard to say her name, even now.

“Buffy,” Willow finished.

“She’s upstairs. I’ll go get her.” Dawn turned and rushed up the stairs and knocked on Buffy’s door. “Buffy! Giles is back!”

After a moment, Buffy opened the door and peeked out with red-rimmed eyes. “Giles?” Dawn nodded with excitement.

Buffy fought back tears as she headed downstairs. She nearly collapsed into her Watcher’s arms at the foot of the stairs, gripping him as though he might leave again if she dared let go.

“Buffy,” he said, overcome with emotion. “You’re alive. You’re here. And you’re still…” He struggled to breathe. “Remarkably strong.”

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” Buffy loosened her grasp.

“I couldn’t let myself believe it.” His eyes were misty behind his wire-rimmed spectacles. “Not until I saw you for myself.” It was a miracle, a bloody miracle. Willow had explained what happened when they spoke on the phone, but until he could see it, he’d doubted that the young witch really had the capability to pull off such a remarkable feat.

“Here I am.” Buffy shrugged, as if coming back from the dead were no big deal.

“How – how are you feeling?” He led her over to the sofa so that they could be more comfortable as they caught up.

“Okay, I guess. I mean, it’s kind of strange, you know? But I’m adjusting.”

He noticed that she was careful to avoid letting any emotion reflect in her voice. She’d always been strong, his Slayer, never wanting to show her weakness, and it broke his heart to think about the nightmarish things she might be keeping inside.

“It must have been awful. I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it…” His tone of voice betrayed how interested he was in learning about her after-death experience, but he wouldn’t push her to relive the horrors of hell until she was ready.

“Not really,” she admitted. “In fact, I’m… kind of tired.” She looked down at her hands in her lap and avoided Giles’ gaze.

“Giles is probably tired, too,” said Tara. “From the time change and all the traveling.”

“Yes, it has been quite a day. I should get back to the hotel and get some sleep. We can talk more tomorrow.”

“Ooh! We’ll have a party!” Willow tapped Tara’s arm in excitement. “A welcome home party for Giles, and… and for Buffy, being back. We haven’t really celebrated properly. Tomorrow night, we’ll do it up right.” Dawn perked up at the idea, and Buffy gave a tight smile.

“That’s a lovely idea,” said Giles. “Thank you.” He got up to leave and Buffy stood with him. “It’s good to have you back, Buffy.”

She smiled a little more. “You, too.” She gave him another hug before he left, then retreated up the stairs again. She managed to crawl into bed before the wave of despair came crashing down over her head.

*****

Xander hung up the phone and turned to Anya, who was sitting at the kitchen table poring over receipts from the Magic Box. “That was the Dawnmeister. Giles is back.”

“That’s great,” Anya replied, with a hint of false enthusiasm. “He’s not going to want the magic shop back, is he? He can’t have it. He signed papers.”

“I’m sure he remembers that, Ahn. Will’s having a party tomorrow, welcome back sort of thing.”

“Oh, good. So everyone will be together again.”

“Yes…” said Xander, uneasy with where she was headed.

“So it’ll be the perfect time to tell them all about us getting married.”

Bingo. Ulterior motive. Though, with Anya, it was hard to describe it as “ulterior,” since everything was fairly transparent to begin with. “It’s funny, you know,” he said, joining her at the table. “I saw that one coming at me, and yet, still didn’t duck fast enough.”

“Don’t you think it’s about time? I have a pretty ring, and I want to show it off. I want to start making wedding plans, and have people fuss over me and call me a blushing bride and buy me presents!”

“And we’ll do all that, Ahn. But don’t you think the fussing over you will take away from the welcoming Buffy and Giles back? We don’t want to overshadow the guests of honor, right?” Xander held his breath – he knew there was a decent chance she’d overshadow them in a heartbeat.

Instead of arguing with him, Anya pouted. “I just want to get started on our life together.”

Xander nodded. The puppy dog eyes were wearing him down. “I’m waiting for the perfect moment, that’s all.” He looked at her again and withered a little bit under the intense guilt trip. “Soon, I promise, honey.”

*****

Buffy curled herself into a ball with Mr. Gordo hugged tightly to her chest, choking back her sobs so the others wouldn’t hear her crying. She couldn’t bear the thought of Willow or Tara – or worst of all, Dawn – peeking in with their concerned faces and their calm, understanding platitudes. Because they didn’t understand, they couldn’t possibly know what she was feeling. The thought flickered in her mind that they wouldn’t know unless she told them… but she couldn’t do that. She could never – it would hurt them so much.

She heard footsteps in the hall and swiped away the tears with the back of her hand, her entire body tensing up, holding her breath until she heard the decisive slam of Dawn’s bedroom door and the muted sound of Annoying Boy Band of the Week emanating through the wall. Then she let out the breath with a sigh, punctuated by a post-cry hiccup.

She wasn’t even sure why she was crying – she’d been so hopeful for Giles’ return. For the first time in a long while, she felt safe again. As long as Giles was back, everything would be okay. He would take care of her.

But beneath the fatherly love and concern, he was still her Watcher. She felt guilty about cutting short their reunion, but there was a part of seeing him that frightened her. At some point, Giles would want to know – would need to know, for the sake of posterity and Watcher’s diaries and all that – what had happened to her and where she’d been, and she couldn’t bear to tell the truth.

Her breath caught in her throat and she started to feel smothered again and then she was clawing her way out of a coffin, gasping for air as dirt sprinkled her face from above and the padded casket seemed to swallow her up. She shut her eyes against the memory, but it closed in all around her, pulling her down until there was nothing but darkness.