TITLE: Loose Ends
AUTHOR: Dayna Abel
FEEDBACK: beautiful_taras_girl@yahoo.com
SUMMARY: When Willow does the spell to resurrect Buffy, her magic proves to have dire consequences. The spirits of the dead are called forth from the heavens, doomed to wander the earth in fear and agony...unless Buffy Summers is returned to the netherworld.
SPOILER WARNING: This story is set three months after the events of "The Gift." Don't read this if you haven't seen that episode. Additionally, some spoiler theories that have been kicking around were used in the creation of this story.
DISCLAIMER: All Buffy related people and places are the property of Joss Whedon, Warner Brothers Network, 20th Century Fox, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui, Sandollar Productions, and probably Kevin Bacon at some point or another. I don't intend any copyright infringement whatsoever and I'm not making any money off of this, so don't sue me. I am a mere receptionist and could only afford to give you this half-eaten watermelon anyway. Watch the seeds.
================
Midnight. Generally not considered to be the safest time for a young lady to be visiting a grave, especially when the lady in question lived on the Hellmouth. In Sunnydale, California - la Boca del Infierno - the dead had a disturbing tendency to rise.
But this was no ordinary grave.
Willow Rosenberg was no ordinary young lady.
And raising the dead was precisely her intention.
The wind whipped at Willow's flowing red hair as she knelt in a pool of moonlight before the gravestone. Her eyes ran over the words-
BUFFY ANNE SUMMERS
1981-2001
BELOVED SISTER
DEVOTED FRIEND
SHE SAVED THE WORLD
A LOT
-as unwilling to believe them now as she had been the day her best friend had been laid to rest.
"Oh, Buffy," Willow whispered as she touched the cold granite. "I'm so sorry. You never deserved this."
Willow had been there the day Buffy died. The Slayer of vampires had averted the ultimate apocalypse by swan-diving into a portal of mystical energy, closing the dimensional gates and preventing her little sister Dawn from sacrificing herself to save the world.
On some level, Willow understood Buffy's decision. After everything Buffy had lost - first her boyfriend Riley, then her mother - she would have been destroyed if she'd lost her sister as well. Dead inside. Better to be dead outside than to live like that. Save the world, save her sister, rest in peace. Simple as that.
Except it wasn't. Buffy wasn't just anybody. She was the Slayer, the Chosen One, a warrior for the Powers That Be. She was the only one with the ability to keep the denizens of the Mouth of Hell at bay. Willow and the rest of Buffy's friends - Xander, Giles, Anya, Tara and even Spike - were doing what they could to keep the body count in Sunnydale down, but it wasn't enough. Twelve more people had died last night, victims of brutal vampire attacks. Sunnydale needed a Slayer. With Faith in jail (and I don't trust her any farther than Miss Kitty Fantastico can throw her, Willow thought), that left only one option.
She had to bring Buffy back.
Willow was terrified; there was no denying that. Even as she reached into her backpack and produced three items - an Urn of Osiris, an Orb of Thesula and a thick, leather-bound book entitled Darkest Magick - her hands were shaking with fear and uncertainty. She'd never attempted a spell like this before.
Just do it, Willow, she admonished herself. It needs to be done. Don't think about it.
Willow scooped three handfuls of dirt from the grave and poured them into the urn. She added a strand of Buffy's hair that she'd taken from a brush the Slayer had left at her place one day (so long ago - no, no, it couldn't have been) and lastly, a drop of Willow's own blood.
The urn burst into colored, mystical light, exhaling a multi-hued mist that slowly surrounded both Willow and Buffy's grave. It stayed there, unmoved by the night breezes, a barrier against the world of the living.
Okay. Now comes the hard part.
Willow held the Orb of Thesula up to the mist. Her eyes went completely black as she intoned the spell:
"Spirits of the interregnum, I call. Bring forth the soul of the Slayer, the spirit of the Chosen. Daughter of Sineya, the First, use this Orb as your guide."
A bolt of lightning split the ebon sky, even though there wasn't a cloud in sight for miles. The mist around Willow roiled violently, gathering itself, becoming more solid. The Orb of Thesula began to glow with a pure white light.
Buffy! Willow cried silently.
The mist enveloped the Orb, clinging to it, absorbing the light until the mist itself was glowing the same argent color. Willow held the Orb up to the sky.
"Osiris, Guardian of the Netherworld! Restore flesh to bone; spirit to flesh. Join once more body and soul, and make what was broken again be whole!"
She didn't hear the growling behind her as she shouted the final words of her spell.
"Buffy Summers, come forth!"
She did, however, feel the shock of impact as the vampire slammed into her from behind. Willow gasped and was knocked forward, losing her grip on the Orb. The delicate sphere fell from her hands, shattering against the stone slab that marked the Slayer's final resting place.
"No!" Willow cried, rolling over and throwing the bloodsucker off of her. She stood up quickly, noticing in dismay that only a small part of the mist had settled onto Buffy's grave. The rest was dissipating, being carried off by the wind.
The vampire growled, baring its fangs at the witch. "You are gonna be so sorry you just did that," Willow said in a dangerously quiet tone. She didn't have a stake, but this was a forest. Where there's trees, there's wood, and wood always did make nice pointy things to dust vamps with.
The vampire lunged at Willow.
"Thicken," Willow said, almost nonchalantly. The air around the vamp seemed to ripple and then solidify, trapping the fangface in mid-air like a fly in amber.
The creature snarled and fought against the spell, stuck in something it couldn't see or feel.
Her expression neutral, Willow gestured at a nearby oak. One of the branches snapped off of its own accord and flew through the air with incredible speed.
The vampire screamed as it dusted, and the tree branch fell to the ground.
"Serves you right," Willow snapped at the ashes. She looked over at the grave, where shards of the Orb of Thesula glittered like fangs in the moonlight. She sighed bitterly. There was no way to bring Buffy back now, not without the Orb.
Maybe Tara was right. Maybe some things are better off left as they are.
"I'm sorry, Buffy," she apologized to the gravestone. "I guess it just wasn't meant to be." Hot tears stung her eyes. She was so disappointed! She had been so sure that the spell would work.
She waited for a moment, listening, as if expecting some sort of response from the headstone.
The headstone didn't say anything. They very rarely do.
Willow sighed once more and packed the book and urn back into her backpack. She slung it over her shoulder and headed home. Hopefully Tara was still sleeping. She didn't want her girlfriend worrying too much about her.
Willow didn't look back as she left the clearing in the woods.
Had she done so, however, she might have heard something. A faint skritch, skritch coming from somewhere under the ground, a sound like fingernails scraping against wood.
A hand burst from the grave, covered in wet earth. It grasped and clawed at the air and took hold of the ground.
Another hand emerged, then a head, then a torso, until the body of a very wet, very dirty and very much alive young blonde woman lay panting on the cold earth.
Buffy Summers raised her head and looked around.
When she spoke, it was a single word:
"Dawn."
* * *
The mist floated lazily over the town of Sunnydale, carried along by the night wind. Ostensibly, it was just a bit of stray fog, but this mist was sentient. It had purpose. And it knew exactly where it was going.
Two graves, in two separate cemeteries.
One of them bore the name JOYCE SUMMERS.
The other, JENNY CALENDAR, etched in marble.
The mist settled into the earth that covered the graves.
Slowly...
...ever so slowly...
...the earth began to move.
===================================================
TITLE: Loose Ends
AUTHOR: Dayna Abel
FEEDBACK: beautiful_taras_girl@yahoo.com
SUMMARY: When Willow does the spell to resurrect Buffy, her magic proves to have dire consequences. The spirits of the dead are called forth from the heavens, doomed to wander the earth in fear and agony...unless Buffy Summers is returned to the netherworld.
SPOILER WARNING: This story is set three months after the events of "The Gift." Don't read this if you haven't seen that episode or most of the end of Season Five. Additionally, some spoiler theories that have been kicking around were used in the creation of this story.
DISCLAIMER: All Buffy related people and places are the property of Joss Whedon, Warner Brothers Network, 20th Century Fox, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui, Sandollar Productions, and probably Kevin Bacon at some point or another. I don't intend any copyright infringement whatsoever and I'm not making any money off of this, so don't sue me. I am a mere receptionist and could only afford to give you this half-eaten watermelon anyway. Watch the seeds.
================
The Slayer tensed, her muscles coiled like springs. Her eyes darted left and right, scanning her surroundings for her enemy. Glory, she thought. She's hiding from me. Her bones ached painfully, but there was no time to rest. She had to stop Glory from killing Dawn.
She whirled at the sudden movement along her peripheral vision. A small, furry creature bounded off into the woods as if the devil was on its tail. Not Glory.
Then Buffy noticed the grave. The grave with her name on it. The grave with a gaping hole under the stone, as if somebody had dug into the ground, or something had clawed its way...
...out...
I was dead. The knowledge hit Buffy like a slap. I was dead and buried. She sniffed the air. No wonder I stink. How long was I gone?
She examined her skin. It was dirty and wet with clumps of loose earth, but also undamaged as far as she could see. Couldn't have been too long, if I'm not rotting, she thought. Still Maybelline perfect.
Buffy struggled to remember exactly what had happened to her. Her mind was foggy, but the memories were there, slowly bubbling up to the surface. Glory. Ben. The fight on the tower. Dawn's blood. The crackle of the mystical portal, the energy washing over Buffy's body like a million volts of electricity...
"AAAAAAAAAGGGHH!!" Buffy screamed, the agony of the moment of her death hitting her anew. She collapsed on the soft ground, shivering in pain and sobbing uncontrollably. What the hell is happening to me? Why do my muscles feel like they're on fire?
I've got to find Willow. She'll know what to do. Cold, sweating, her body exploding in fresh pain with every movement, Buffy struggled to her feet and stumbled, zombie-like, towards the town of Sunnydale.
Unbeknownst to the Slayer, she was being watched. Two spirits hung in the air above and behind her. They looked at each other, sharing a thought, if spirits can be said to think.
"She needs to come back with us," the first one said. "You know what will happen if she doesn't."
The other nodded sadly. "My poor Buffy," it sighed.
"There's no time for that. You know where you need to be."
"What about you?" the ghost of Joyce Summers asked.
The spirit that was once Jenny Calendar looked out over the sleeping town of Sunnydale. "I know where I have to be."
"Where were you tonight?"
Willow closed the door to the bedroom and put down her backpack. "I was visiting Buffy."
Tara sat up a little in the bed she and Willow shared. Willow's tone of voice concerned her. "Everything okay? Are the flowers still there?"
"Everything's still there," Willow said quietly, her words carrying an undertone of regret that Tara didn't understand.
"Something's bothering you," Tara noted astutely.
Willow smiled. She crossed the room and gave her girlfriend a loving kiss. "Nothing can bother me when I'm with you. You don't need to worry about me."
"I always worry about you," Tara said seriously, touching Willow's cheek. "I just want to take care of you, like you took care of me when-"
"Don't," Willow said, cutting her off. "I don't even like to think about that."
Both girls knew Tara had been referring to those horrible few days when her mind had been leeched by the hellgod Glory. Tara still had screaming nightmares about it sometimes. Just hearing about it made Willow livid. It had driven Willow to cross the line and call on the darkest Wiccan magics to exact revenge on Glory, actually hurting the Goddess. It had ultimately helped restore Tara's sanity, but Tara was shocked and appalled by Willow's blatant violation of the Wiccan Rede. Her lover's casual attitude towards dark magic brought back memories she'd rather leave buried...
"I'm still feeling restless," Willow said suddenly, interrupting Tara's thoughts. "Do you mind if I go out patrolling?"
"I thought it was Spike's turn to patrol."
Willow shrugged. "It is, but...I feel bad about all the deaths lately." She lowered her eyes. "I just wanted to do something about it."
She's feeling guilty about something, Tara realized. Probably because she still feels like she's letting Buffy down. "Hey, go ahead," she told Willow. "Just don't be out too late. And don't slam the door when you come in. Dawn's fast asleep."
Willow rolled her eyes. "Yes, dear," she said with a little smirk.
Tara laughed and leaned up for another kiss. "I love you. Be careful."
"You know me."
"That's why I said it."
Some time after Willow left the room, Tara happened to glance over at her girlfriend's backpack. The flap was lying open, and the spine of a book was sticking out partway. Tara sat up with a jolt, her stomach turning to ice. That's not-
She pulled the book from the backpack, almost dropping it as she read the embossed title. "Oh, Goddess," she whispered. "Willow, no..."
Xander and Anya looked up from their mochas just as Willow walked into the coffeehouse. "Will," Xander greeted her with a smile, pulling a chair out from the table so she could sit with them.
Willow obliged, scooting in next to Xander. "Hey, you two. Couldn't you guys sleep either?"
"We don't really sleep much these days," Xander said casually, his arm draped around Anya's shoulder.
"We're too busy having orgasms to sleep," Anya supplied with her usual tactlessness.
Xander suddenly looked very tired and old, which was his usual reaction to his fiancée's callousness. But, being the brave man that he was, he bore that burden with enormous fortitude. "Ahn-" he began in a warning tone.
"Were you and Tara having orgasms, too?" Anya asked brightly.
Willow suddenly turned beet red. "Anya..."
"Oh no, I suddenly like the direction this conversation has turned," Xander smiled. "Not so funny when it's you she's embarrassing in public, now is it?"
"I embarrass you?" Anya asked, a little hurt.
"In your own inimitable, loving way," Xander reassured her.
"Oh. All right then."
Willow was still blushing, but forced herself into conversation. "I was out patrolling," she said. "I didn't see anything out there, so I figured I could stop in for a quick sugar rush."
"Tara says you're not allowed near the sugar," Anya reminded her.
Willow chuckled. "I'd fall asleep otherwise. It's pretty dead out there."
"And speaking of dead..." Xander said, his gaze shifting to the front door.
A familiar-looking bleached blonde vampire in black leather sauntered up to the counter. "Espresso," he told the girl up at the front, tossing a few bills on the counter. "Triple. And make it snappy."
"Spike, what are you doing here?" Willow asked.
Spike looked over at the sound of his name. "If it isn't the Scooby Gang," he said, feigning amazement. "What are you lot doing up past your bedtimes?" He took his espresso and sat down at the table.
"Renewing a long and beautiful friendship," Xander said sarcastically. "To which you weren't invited."
"Table's not the same as a house, mate," the vampire retorted. "Don't need an invitation."
"Spike, aren't you supposed to be patrolling?" Willow asked.
Spike looked suddenly abashed, but recovered quickly. "No harm," he apologized quickly. He knew better than to cross Willow. Not only could he not bite her even if he wanted to, the witch could turn him into a toad if he even raised a fang at her or any other of the Slayer's friends. "There's nothing to patrol. No vamps out for some reason. Not even a bloody demon to fight." He grew serious. "Something's out there. In the air. They can all feel it. It's something bad, and they're afraid."
Willow and Xander exchanged worried looks. Normally, you couldn't trust Spike, but after his failure to protect Dawn and losing Buffy, Spike had become loyal to the entire Scooby Gang, even if he'd rather be caught alive than admit it. "I stopped by the Slayer's grave earlier," he added. "Looks like a bear or something was digging it up. Dirt turned over every which way." He turned to Willow, who looked suddenly pale for some reason. "You might want to tell your bird that her flowers're missing, too. I'll pick some up next time I'm out, if you want."
"Is Buffy all you ever obsess about?" Xander said dryly.
Spike leaned in close with an evil grin. "No," he replied smoothly. "Sometimes I have this little fantasy where I'm chipless and snapping your neck. It helps me go to sleep in the morning."
"Hey!" Anya protested, grabbing Xander's arm possessively. Suddenly Xander stood up, knocking over his chair.
"Buffy!" Xander exclaimed, his eyes wide.
"Oh, now who's obsessed?" Spike rolled his eyes.
Willow turned around, looking out the plate-glass window where Xander was staring. Her jaw dropped. She bolted outside, shouting at the figure shambling down the street.
"Buffy!"
"Buffy!" The Slayer turned at the sound of her name. She frowned, trying to make out the person silhouetted against the coffeehouse. Then a pair of arms were around her, and she tensed.
"Buffy! Buffy, is it you? Is it really you?" a woman's voice repeated over and over. "Oh Goddess, thank you...thank you thank you thank you..."
Buffy recognized the voice then. "Willow?"
Willow looked up and looked into her friend's eyes. She was shocked to see so much pain there. "It's me," she said. "It's me. I brought you home, Buffy."
Buffy's face fell. Tears slid down her cheeks. "Willow...I hurt."
Willow shook her head. "Something went wrong, and I...I didn't think the spell would work, but-"
"I wanna go back. Please, Will? Send me back?"
Willow was horrified as the Slayer wept in her arms. This wasn't right. Buffy shouldn't be acting like this. "No," she said. "I can't. We need you here."
"Why did you bring me back? I closed the dimensions...they're not going to open again, are they?"
"No...Buffy, it's okay..."
"It's not okay!" Buffy shouted, throwing Willow's arms off her. "I was resting! I was fine! I was happy and...I was with Mom..." She trailed off. Guilt suddenly formed up like ice in Willow's stomach. This wasn't how she'd expected Buffy to react at all.
Though the Gods know how I'd expect her to react, she conceded.
Spike, Xander and Anya all filed out of the coffeehouse to where Buffy and Willow stood together in the nearly-deserted street. Spike and Anya were rendered speechless by the sight before them.
"Will," Xander said in an oddly calm tone. "Is that really...?"
Willow nodded. "Buffy."
Xander took that in, then looked very carefully at his oldest and dearest friend. "What did you do, Willow?"
Willow took Buffy and cradled her in her arms. Buffy, for her part, let her. "Let's call Giles," she said.
Rupert Giles was dozing in an overstuffed armchair in his apartment when the phone rang. He sat up with a start, dropping the remote as he did so and almost knocking over his glass of brandy.
"Blast," he muttered under his breath, tightening his robe around his waist and pushing his glasses up onto his nose. He reached the phone on the third ring, glancing at the digital clock on the microwave. Two-thirty in the morning. Whoever this is, it had better be something damned important, he thought as he picked up the phone. "Hello? Xander? Do you have any idea of what time...what problem? Xander, I'm not in the mood, just tell me what...very well, I'll be at the Summers' as soon as possible. Goodbye." He hung up the phone, hoping - and sort of not - that the reason for Xander instructing him to meet the Slayerettes at Buffy's house was apocalyptic at the very least. Giles didn't like to be disturbed much these days, unless it was for help with research. He was feeling his age since Buffy died, and didn't think he was up to any more shocks.
"Hello, Rupert."
Giles whirled at the woman's voice behind him and nearly fainted. It was a ghost. He'd seen a lot of them in his day, but this was someone he knew. Someone he'd loved.
Jenny Calendar's ghost.
=======
PART THREE
"I know you must be a little taken aback at seeing me here," Jenny's ghost said, as if embarrassed by her own presence.
Giles took several steps back. "Yes, well, ah...that should be...quite the understatement."
"I know this must be upsetting for you..."
"Oh no, not at all, considering that the last time I saw you, you were a figment of my imagination conjured up by an insane vampire woman to aid in my brutal torture."
The apparition winced. "I saw that. Rupert, I'm sorry. That cheap little bitch. If I could hold a stake, I'd..."
Giles paused. The way she talked, moved...everything about her cried out Jenny Calendar. Janna of the Kalderash, his dearest love. The vampire Angelus had killed her over three years ago, broken her neck like a dry twig. Once, he'd thought her ghost was trying to contact him, but it turned out to be wishful thinking on his part. Then came mad Drusilla's hypnotic mind games. He wasn't particularly inclined to believe that this truly was his Jenny.
Still...
"Prove your claim," he said to the ghost.
"I'm sorry?"
"If you truly are the spirit of Jenny Calendar, I want proof. Tell me something that only the two of us would know."
The spirit hesitated, ephemeral brow furrowing in thought. After a pause, she grinned. "Back in your tweed-and-books days, I called you a fuddy-duddy. But a sexy one. And your secret shame is the America album in your record collection."
Giles blushed.
The spirit drifted closer. "And when you found me on the night I died," she continued, her voice low and sad, "there were roses on the stairs. The music in your stereo was 'O soave fanciulla!' by Puccini."
Giles' blood went cold. "I remember."
"You tried to die that night," she scolded him.
"I did."
"But you didn't. Because I was there, watching you. I'm your guardian angel, you silly fuddy-duddy. I'll always be with you."
Giles permitted a smile. It was her. It was his Jenny. Oddly, he found that he could look at her, remember her, without the heart-rending grief. Three years was a long time, and he knew what they said about time and wounds. "How has the afterlife been treating you?" he asked conversationally, as if he talked to the dead every day.
Jenny's face went absolutely hard. "That's the problem."
* * *
"We have a problem," Anya announced. "Buffy's dead. I was there, I helped bury her. Mortals do not, generally, come back to life without fangs. And yet," she gestured to Buffy, who was sitting on the couch of her living room. The Slayer was pale and wan, with dark circles under her eyes. She was cradled in Dawn's arms, who had oddly accepted without question the fact that her sister was alive and...well, unwell, but alive.
Well, if a 14-year-old junior high girl can be the key to the universe, I suppose her sister can play Lazarus, Dawn postulated. She knew resurrection wasn't impossible. She herself had brought back her mother for a brief moment after her death. She assumed that Willow had done this, and felt deeply indebted to the redhead. More than anything, she wanted to be a witch like Willow, to have the power over life and death without turning people into newts or anything.
"Maybe it's not really Buffy," Anya rambled on, pacing the floor. "Maybe it's a mask, like on the television with that dog and those meddling kids." She half-extended her hand towards Buffy's face before Xander took hold of her wrist.
"Ahn," he said. "No ripping off people's faces. I thought you got over that in the thirteenth century."
The former vengeance demon pouted. "You never let me have any fun anymore."
"It's her," Dawn said firmly. "She's my sister...I'm a part of her. I would know if it wasn't her." She turned to Willow, who nodded in confirmation.
"She's right," she said, and went on to explain the spell she'd performed earlier that night. Technically, it was morning now, and the Scooby Gang had dispatched Spike back to his crypt, after promising him an explanation the next evening. As Willow related the details of the spell, Dawn noticed a peculiar expression on Tara's face - something very akin to horror. Her face was chalk-white. She wondered why Tara was being so uptight about this. Maybe because now that Buffy was back, she wouldn't be able to be one of Dawn's guardians anymore? She made a mental note to ask Tara about it later.
"When the Orb shattered, I thought that was it," Willow concluded. "No spell, no Buffy. But I guess it turned out okay...right?" She glanced almost apologetically at Tara.
"How can you say that?" the blonde witch asked incredulously. "Honey, look at her. She's barely conscious. I can't understand how she was even ambulatory enough to get over here, even with your help."
"But..." Willow stammered defensively. "She's here...she's Buffy..."
"You don't understand, Willow!" Tara said sternly, raising her voice for the first time any of the Scoobies could remember. "These spells...there's always a price." Her eyes were haunted. "Always." Tara turned and stomped angrily up the stairs to the room she shared with Willow.
"Tara!" Willow called up after her. A second later, a door slammed shut. Willow got up quickly, but Xander stopped her.
"Wait," he cautioned. "She's not happy with this spell you did, and to be honest, I'm not sure I am either." Willow looked at him, stricken. "I haven't formed an opinion yet," he amended. "I'm going to wait and see how this turns out before I rush to judgment. In the meantime, be careful how you approach Tara. She's taking this personally, and it's none of my business why, but it is yours."
Willow was amazed. In all the time she'd known Xander, she'd never known him to be this insightful before. Maybe he was growing up after all.
Maybe they all were.
She wrapped her arms around her best friend in a great bear hug. "Thank you, Xander."
"Remember, be careful," he said. "Girlfriends can pack a mean right hook if they're pissed off enough." Anya smacked him on the shoulder at that last comment. "Ow! See?"
"I find your sexism barbaric and offensive," Anya sniffed. "Consider that my vengeance."
"I'm glad I never pissed you off when you were a demon," Xander said sincerely.
Willow smiled briefly, then went upstairs.
"I can't believe Giles didn't even call," Dawn said, stroking Buffy's hair as she lay asleep on her lap. She'd drifted off during Willow's spell story, and her breathing was almost alarmingly shallow. Dawn hoped that wasn't a bad sign. "Nothing could have happened, could it?"
"With the anti-demon wards the Wicca Wonder Twins have over his house?" Xander scoffed. "Those would probably repel Cordelia. I'm sure nothing's wrong."
Suddenly, Buffy bolted upright, her eyes wide. "Buffy?" Dawn cried, startled.
"She's here," Buffy said in a hoarse monotone. "She's here."
"What are you talking about?" Xander asked. "Who's here?"
Buffy turned. They all did, as one, to follow her gaze.
The specter of Joyce Summers hung in the air before them.
"Mommy's home," Buffy said warmly.
* * *
"Willow performed the Ritual of Osiris last night at Buffy's grave," Jenny's ghost informed Rupert Giles.
Giles sank back into his chair, his eyes wide at the implications of that. "Good Lord," he breathed. "She didn't actually manage to...?"
Jenny nodded. "Yes. In a way." The ghost actually seemed to sigh. "Something happened. The Orb of Thesula shattered, and the spell went awry. Somehow, the life force Willow had channelled to revive Buffy summoned me...and another spirit who had close ties to the Slayer at the time of their death."
Giles pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. "And that person would be...?"
Jenny regarded him for a moment. "Let's get back to that later. What's important is that the life force Willow summoned was distributed among the three of us instead of its sole intended vessel. Most of Buffy's spirit is inside her now - but she's not quite whole. She's in great pain, Rupert. The reason for that is because she is supposed to be in the netherworld.
"What needs to happen," Jenny continued, "is that Buffy's soul has to be returned to the netherworld. Otherwise her body will continue to deteriorate as if she were dead...but she will be alive, unable to escape the prison of her body, feeling every inch of decay and pain until her bones turn to dust. Do you really want that to happen, Rupert?"
Giles sat in mute shock, stunned by Jenny's revelations. The answer to her question was, of course, obvious. He could never condemn Buffy to such torment. "How do I reverse the spell?" he asked Jenny in as neutral a tone as he could manage.
"With another Orb of Thesula," she replied simply. "The other spirit and I will enter the Orb and draw Buffy's soul back into the ether before guiding her back to the netherworld."
"Effectively killing her," Giles pointed out.
"Saving her soul!" Jenny retorted. "Rupert, that girl is already dead. You can either let her rest in peace or feel her death every day until she rots away completely. She'll die either way. Now, you can let her go with dignity and mercy or bind her to this plane in a decaying body. Pick one."
Giles sighed wearily, feeling very, very old all of a sudden. No choice at all, really. "Right, then. An Orb of Thesula. I believe I have one at the Magic Box. We can go there and-" He stopped, remembering something. "Just a moment. You said there was another spirit imbued with Buffy's life force. Who would that be, Jenny?"
Jenny's ethereal face grew troubled. She looked away from Giles, not daring to meet his gaze.
"Jenny?" Giles repeated. "Who is it?"
============
PART FOUR
"Mother," Tara whispered to herself, staring out into the light of the newly-risen sun. The sky was stained the color of rose quartz, the sun itself a golden disk that reminded Tara of an angel's halo. Tara had read somewhere that the sunrise was the love of all the mothers that had died and gone to heaven. Tara liked the idea, even if the book had been fiction.
She missed her mom so much.
Tara turned away from the window to find Willow there, speaking of angels. Her eyes were downcast and her face was filled with shame. "Hi," she said softly.
Tara couldn't say anything. She sat down on the bed and stared back out the window. Willow silently crossed the room and sat beside her in silence. It was Tara who spoke first.
"I said there was a price to be paid for the use of dark magic," Tara said to Willow. "B-but I don't think you really understand what upset me so much downstairs."
Willow took her girlfriend's hand in hers. "Tell me," she said.
Tara nodded, her eyes far away. "It's because you remind me of my mother."
Angela Maclay. Willow suddenly became very nervous. Tara's mother's death was something the blonde witch very rarely talked about. Willow suddenly realized two things: that no one outside of Tara knew the circumstances surrounding Angela's death, and that Willow was about to be the only other person to share that knowledge.
"Mom knew a Slayer when she was your age. They were best friends, just like you and Buffy. They lived in a quiet town in Virginia, near the mountains. The Slayer was killed by a demon that lived in those mountains when Mom was about twenty.
"Mom was heartbroken. She...she taught herself black magic in order to fight and kill the demon. She won, and thought she'd avenged her friend. That should have been the end of it.
"But it wasn't."
Tara's voice trembled a little as she continued. "The effects of the spell she'd used left traces of its power on my mom. For years, it caused her to emanate a kind of 'bad-luck field'...a curse that caused everyone around her to suffer pain and death of all kinds.
"My dad found out about it shortly after I was born. To this day, I don't know what happened to make him do it, but Dad decided that Mom was a demon. He locked her in the attic, essentially placing her in solitary confinement." Tara trailed off then, her voice thick with emotion. But she refused to cry. She couldn't let herself. Not now. Not when Willow needed to hear the story.
"And then?" Willow prompted her, not wanting Tara to stop now. She knew this was something Tara had to get out...and at the same time, she felt very frightened for herself. For using black magic.
"Then? The curse continued. But it didn't have anyone around to affect...other than Mom." She took a deep breath. "It f-fed on her. It drained her until she...died. That was when I was seventeen.
"I'd been a witch since I was born. My dad hated me for it. He spent years telling me I would become a demon like Mom."
"But you're not," Willow insisted.
Tara shook her head. "No. But I could have been, if I'd done what Mom had done. I swore after she died to never use the black arts. I knew if I did, it could kill me...kill everyone around me. And I don't...I can't let that happen to you, Willow." She gripped Willow's hands tightly and gazed intently into her eyes. "Going down this path will destroy you. You have to stop using black magic, Willow. Now. Otherwise..."
She left it hanging. Willow was suddenly frozen with fear...fear for Tara, and fear for what she had done to herself, and to Buffy. "Tara..."
"Willow, promise me," Tara said quickly. "Promise me you will never use the dark arts again."
Despite everything, Willow hesitated. Her magic was what had brought Tara back from insanity. It had aided Buffy and the Scoobies in the fight against Glory. Her power was what gave them all the courage and ability to survive.
She drew in a deep breath. That time had passed. Glory was gone...and it was time for Dark Willow to be gone as well.
"I promise," she said to Tara as well as to herself. She meant it.
Finally, Tara let herself cry.
* * *
Dawn wanted to scream. Her mother hung in the air just above her head, her spectral form semitransparent and tinged pale blue. Her eyes looked solid, though. Solid and sad.
It's not her, Dawn thought, paralyzed. It's a trick.
"Mom," Buffy said, her heart in her voice.
Suddenly everything was happening at once. Anya yelped and fell over in her chair. Xander grabbed Dawn and pulled her away from the ghost just as the girl let out a small shriek. Miss Kitty Fantastico, Willow and Tara's cat, bolted upstairs, her fur sticking straight up just as the two witches ran downstairs to see what all the commotion was about.
The doorbell rang, and everyone froze.
For several seconds, nobody moved. The doorbell rang again, and Joyce Summers' ghost turned her head toward the hallway.
"Buffy," she said to her daughter. "Answer the door."
Buffy got up slowly, feeling her half-restored muscles burning as she moved.
Outside were Giles, and the ghost of Jenny Calendar.
"Hello, Buffy," the apparition greeted her. Buffy stepped aside to allow her Watcher and the ghost into the house. Jenny looked up at the other spirit in the living room. "Joyce," she said politely.
"Janna," Joyce replied politely.
Xander's eyes darted back and forth between the two spirits. Then he shook his head. "Why do I feel like I walked in during the third reel?"
Giles turned to Willow, whose eyes were wide with shock. "Sit down, Willow...all of you." Willow noticed that Giles was holding an Orb of Thesula in his right hand. "There's something you all need to hear."
The Slayer and her Slayerettes listened very carefully to the story Giles told them. Jenny only interrupted once or twice, to clarify or correct Giles during the narrative when necessary. When he was done, they all realized they were staring at Buffy.
"I was wondering why I was feeling so crappy," Buffy said. She managed a halfhearted smile. "Guess it's not the flu after all."
Nobody laughed.
Willow's heart was breaking. This was her fault. She had done this to Buffy. She cried silently as Tara held her.
Dawn wasn't in much better shape. Intellectually, she realized the need for the spell Giles and Miss Calendar were calling for. But emotionally...she'd just gotten Buffy back. Her sister; the only family she had left. She couldn't bear to lose her again.
Buffy looked up at Giles. "I'm ready," she said gravely. "I want to go back now."
"No," Dawn wailed, grabbing her sister's arm. "Buffy, don't. Please."
"Dawn, I have to," Buffy replied gently. "You've all done all right without me. You're alive. You're safe. That's all that matters to me." She looked around at each of her friends in turn - Xander, Anya (She's actually crying, Buffy noted in some surprise), Tara and Willow. Buffy regarded her best friend with sad eyes. "Will," she said. "I don't blame you for trying the spell. You didn't know what would happen. I would have done the same myself."
Willow didn't trust herself to speak, but she felt profoundly grateful to Buffy for her forgiveness.
Buffy turned to Tara. "Take care of her, okay?"
Tara nodded. "Always," she replied fiercely.
Xander stood up and walked over to Buffy. He hugged her close. "This is all I wanted," he told her. "Just the chance to say goodbye."
Buffy smiled, and then, much to everyone's surprise, went over and hugged Anya too. The ex-demon didn't quite know how to react, but she gave it a shot anyway. "I feel unsure as to how I feel about the situation," she explained to Buffy. "But I'm certain that you're being very brave."
Buffy actually laughed a bit at that, and then noticed the diamond ring on Anya's left hand. She didn't say anything, but gave Anya a little wink. "That ought to be interesting," she predicted.
Dawn took in the sight of her sister saying her final goodbyes with the worst feeling of déjà vu. It was eerily reminiscent of the speech Buffy had given her, before she'd jumped into the dimensional portal to seal it off. The pain and horror of that moment came rushing back to her. She didn't think she could bear it.
And then she realized she didn't have to.
"Wait!" she told Giles, knocking the spellbook out of his hand just as he'd begun to chant.
Giles' face went livid. "Dawn, what on Earth-"
"There's another way to do this. You need Buffy's soul, right?"
"Yes, Dawn. All three spirits must be drawn into the Orb," he said patiently.
Dawn picked the book up off the floor, clutching it tightly to her chest. "Good," she said. "Give me the Orb." She held out her hand expectantly.
Giles looked completely lost.
"Giles," Dawn said intently. "Trust me."
"Rupert, do as she says," Jenny's ghost said, suddenly realizing what Dawn was getting at.
Giles looked up at the spirit of the woman he'd loved. Her eyes seemed to be telling him something.
Nodding slowly, he handed Dawn the Orb.
She flipped quickly through the pages, searching for something. All eyes were on her as she scanned the yellowed pages. Finally, she stopped. She looked at Buffy, her face unreadable, and then began to chant in Latin. The Orb began to glow with a golden light, looking for all the world like a miniature sun cradled in Dawn's hand. Her chanting grew louder, more insistent. It sounded like she was repeating the same phrase over and over to Xander, but then again, Latin was all Greek to him.
Slowly, Dawn began to glow the same color as the Orb. As Buffy looked on, the glow of both the Orb and her sister paled to a brilliant white, a fiery nimbus that enclosed them both. Buffy began to feel very strange. She'd felt strange ever since she'd been resurrected, of course, but this was different. Her bones, her muscles...they felt warm, like something was heating her from the inside out. She didn't notice, but the other Scoobies did - Buffy had also begun to glow white.
Dawn's chanting reached its peak, her voice vibrant and resonating as she slammed the pages of the book shut. She collapsed to the ground as the white light leapt from her body to Buffy's, causing the Slayer to arch her back and cry out. But not in pain.
In something far different.
The light winked out abruptly. Both Jenny's and Joyce's spirits had vanished from the living room. Dawn lay on the ground, unmoving.
"Dawn!" Buffy cried, running to her sister's side. It didn't hit her that the movement was painless until she was already holding Dawn in her arms.
What have you done?
The entire gang crowded around the Summers sisters, watching Dawn's face as her eyelids fluttered and finally opened. Her face was very pale, and sudden circles had appeared under her eyes, but thankfully she appeared to be all right.
"Dawn?" Willow asked. "Dawnie? What happened?"
Dawn looked around her and laughed weakly. "It worked," she said triumphantly. "It worked!" She threw her arms around Buffy's neck and hugged her sister tightly.
"Again, I mention the third reel," Xander prompted.
Dawn glanced at Giles. "Buffy's soul," she explained. "She needed the rest of it in order to survive, otherwise it would have to go back to the netherworld."
Giles nodded mutely.
Dawn grinned. "Remember me? Key girl? I'm part of Buffy. The monks made me from her. Mind, body..."
"...and soul," Tara finished, understanding.
Dawn nodded. "But I'm not all Buffy. I'm still me. I'm still real. So I've got my own. I just gave Buffy the part that was hers."
"About time you learned to share," Buffy joked. She looked much better now, her skin glowing with renewed vitality, her muscles strong and limber once again.
"Just tying up loose ends," Dawn replied, underplaying the enormity of what she'd just done. Everyone tried to hug both her and Buffy at once, rejoicing in the fact that both women were alive and well. Buffy was loving it.
It was good to be back.
THE END