His Return

By Sweetiegrrl

DISCLAIMER: Unless you are severely stupid, you will realize that I *am NOT* Joss Whedon. In the case, however, that you *are* severely stupid, let me reiterate. I am not Joss Whedon. If I were Joss Whedon, I'd have millions of dollars and be the proud owner of three franchises, as well as Spike. *Lucky, lucky man, that Joss* But, alas, I am not he. I am but a poor girl who wishes to make the Buffy-verse fit my liking.

SPOILERS: Up to end of season six. Wild spec from there.

FEEDBACK: I *live* for it!

DISTRIBUTION: It'd be an honor. Please, take it if you want it. Just tell me where it's going in an e-mail first.

RATING: Probably just an overall PG-13. I'm not a smut writer yet, though I am a fan!

SUMMARY: Uhhh...someone returns. Sure the summary sucks, but I can't give it all out! Just be happy to know that it *is* B/S.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: At this point, I'm not entirely sure if I want to make this a series or not. I have a plan in case I do make it a series, so I'll know where I'm going with this, but I don't know if I want to make it long term. I'll definitely have at least one more part to it, in any case. If I get some response to it, however, I'll go through with my full story. Hope you like it.

AUTHOR'S NOTE II: I just realized that I cannot, for the life of me, work html documents. If anyone can explain to me how to italicize, underline, and make the text bold, please send me an e-mail to explain and I'll be much obliged. I hate feeling stupid! Until then, thoughts, noises, and emphasis will all be between these - *. Thoughts are between sets of two, such as Spike thinking **Bloody Hell!**, and sounds and emphasis are between sets of one, like a demon going *splat!* Get it? Got it? Good. Sorry to waste so much of your time!

CHAPTER ONE ~ Homecoming


"Ooof!" Buffy grunted as she turned the wrench and tightened the piping underneath the kitchen sink. "Darn...leaky...sink...stop...dripping!" She punctuated each word with a violent twist of the wrench.


"Ugh," Buffy groaned, then rolled her neck wearily and got out from under the sink. She fixed a glare upon the offending faucet. "I give up! Go ahead and drip. *Rot* the wood paneling for all I care!" Sighing, she looked skyward. "Great. Now I'm talking to a piece of plumbing. You know, living a normal life is *really* overrated. Give me a fight with a Grr'alnck demon over household chores any day."

Taking off the soaked yellow poncho she wore just in case she burst a pipe, which was an inevitability in her life, Buffy made her way into the living room. Plopping down onto the couch, and in doing so drenching every piece of fabric she touched, she picked up the remote and began flicking through the channels.

The summer had been hectic. After Willow's attempted apocalypse, a lot of dark energy took up residence in good ol' SunnyD, bringing a lot of dark demons along with it. Wars were waged, epic battles were fought, good versus evil, blah, blah, blah. The gist of it was that Buffy was tired. *Very* tired. **Fighting countless end-of-the-world battles will do that to a gal.** Luckily for her, however, the gang would take over every once in awhile to give the Slayer a break and let her do normal girl things. **I still say normal is overrated. **

With Willow still in recovery, more emotional than magickal, and Tara...gone, Giles had taken over as the resident spell-caster. He had also become a mentor for Dawn, training her regularly in both martial arts and some white magick at her and Buffy's requests. He had promised to remain in Sunnydale for a few more months, until everyone was stable again and the demon threat was reduced, but he would have to return to England eventually. Buffy dreaded that day.

Xander had found a renewed sense of faith in himself as a super-powerless member of the Scoobies after he was able to talk Willow down from her evil, end-of-the-world plan. He no longer thought of himself as the Zeppo, but as someone who *was* able to contribute to the good cause.

Anya was still a Vengeance Demon, though strictly in a vengeance-less sense. She hadn't granted a single wish since she had been turned back, by her own choice. After her tryst with Spike months back, she learned that evisceration wasn't the answer, no matter how fun it may be. Also, she and Xander had tentatively began speaking civilly to each other again, and they were both working on getting past their past.

Willow had been the only Scooby *not* dealing with her problems and moving forward. For weeks after *that day*, she had refused to leave her room at the Summers' house other than to shower or eat. She would only sit on the bed, most often while holding an article of Tara's clothing, and cry. Cry for her lost love, cry for the evil she had done, and cry for the apocalypse she had almost caused. When she finally did come out of her room, she wasn't the same perky, peppy Willow that they had all known and loved. She was a broken woman, and she hadn't been the same since.

**Too much reflecting**, Buffy thought. **Dwelling on badness is...well, bad. Duh.** As she turned her head towards toward the kitchen while un- kinking her neck, Buffy caught a glimpse of the clock and hopped off the couch. "Oh, crap!" She ran her tired hands over her face as she searched mess on the coffee table for her keys. "It's three-thirty. Dawn's gonna *kill* me for not picking her up!" Finally grabbing her keys, the Slayer made her way to the front door. "Guess this means I get moody teenager duty for the next couple days," she said sulkily.

Just as she was about to open it, a sharp knock sounded from the other side of the door. **That's gotta be Xander,** Buffy thought. **He said he'd be here sooner. Oh, well. At least now *he* can go pick her up and be on the receiving end of the Wrath of Dawn for a while. I *really* need a break.**

As she opened the door, her keys dropped to the ground. Buffy spoke while bending down to reach them, and without looking up. "Hey, Xand. Glad you're here. Dawn wanted you to..." She trailed off as her gaze met the two black Doc Martens in front of her. Her eyes traveled upwards as she stood, over the black Levi jeans, past the lean torso and muscular arms contained in the tight, black, long-sleeved cotton tee, up the chiseled cheekbones and well-defined face, and finally resting on the pair of ice- blue eyes currently staring softly back at her.

Spike gave a small smile. "Hello, Buffy."

Buffy stood staring back at him in shock, and her mouth gaping open and closed, giving her a fishy resemblance. It was taking her awhile to process this new information.


Dazedly, she remarked, "I can't form words..."

Spike began to look worried. "Uh, I think you just did, pet..."

Finally snapping out of it, Buffy roughly pulled Spike into the house, making him cry out in surprise, and closed the door behind them with a slam.

To be continued...