Buffy eeped; a little sound made up partly of anxiety, somewhat of nonchalance and hugely of satisfaction, as she slid the turkey laden roasting dish into the oven and shut the door. Checking that the temperature was correct, she set the timer then shuffled over to the bench top.
Clambering onto the barstool was easier said than done these days, so instead she picked up the bag of potatoes, the peeler and the pot and carried them through to the dining room. Autumn sunlight poured in through the large picture window, bathing her in its pale golden light. This was the first really clear day since she’d come home, and the soft light curled around Buffy, tenderly embracing her as if to rejoice in her return to its arms. It stroked her face lovingly, a gentle caress that seemed to hint at how much her absence had been lamented. Well the missage was definitely mutual, as was the worship, her pale skin eagerly soaking up the warmth and the vitality of the sun’s rays.
Only five days had passed since her dramatic rescue from the depths of the Karebear caves or whatever they were called. She’d woken up the morning after her arrival at Ashdown wrapped up in Spike’s arms, squeezed into the room-for-one-only sized hospital bed feeling ravenous and urgently in need of the toilet. Her snuggle bunny had roused himself to the beat of her wriggling, jiggling pelvis, and after an uncomfortable, don’t-squeeze-me-too-tight hug from himself, and a brief argument about whether she should even be out of bed, he’d gallantly carried her next door to the bathroom, IV pole trailing behind them.
They’d had another disagreement in the bathroom when she’d spotted the shower cubicle. Despite his assurance that he’d personally washed nearly every inch of her body the night before (and that had just made her pout that she’d been asleep during it), she’d countered that her hair was in a disgusting state and just look at the forest growing on her legs. However, it had only taken a thirty second unassisted stand, which had consisted of five seconds of triumph and twenty five seconds of shaking, wobbling and almost passing out, for Buffy to concede to Spike’s insistence that she wait.
In the end she’d agreed to put off her wash until Cat had given her the all clear and she’d eaten breakfast. A mild sulk had turned into smugness once she’d passed her check up, her temperature, blood pressure and heart rate were all back to normal, and although still mildly dehydrated and severely undernourished, those were both issues that could be tended to back in the comfort of her and Spike’s own suite.
So, after a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, washed down by another mug of creamy hot chocolate, Spike had bundled her up in a blanket and carried her across to the Lodge.
It was an emotional homecoming. Walking through the door of their suite, back to all of the things and experiences that were theirs, had brought on a mini breakdown. Tears had coursed down her cheeks as Spike carried her over the threshold, recalling that wonderful occasion only four and a half months previous when he’d done so for the first time. They’d made a life for themselves between the four walls of this place. Here they were surrounded by family and steeped in love. It was a place where they’d been both happy and safe.
Spike hadn’t asked any questions, hadn’t needed to. Instead, he’d just held her closer, whispering sweet nothings into her ear as he’d let her mourn the loss of innocence and assurance she’d revelled in ever since they’d arrived at Ashdown. For a while she’d been able to put the warrior aside, and allow the softer, sweeter side of her nature to come to the fore. But the terror and misery she’d suffered down in the tunnels had once again swept that innocence aside, and her life would always be tainted by it.
Eventually she’d fallen asleep, safe in their very own bed, with Spike once again beside her. Once she’d woken up, Spike had filled the gorgeous spa bath to the brim with hot water and bubbles. He’d stripped the pair of them off, carried her through to the shower, and sat her on the seat while he’d washed and rinsed her hair. It had taken half a bottle of shampoo to get it clean, but it left her feeling much better.
Then into the bath they’d both gone, the silky water wrapping around her like a warm blanket. A half hour of pampering followed, as Spike shaved, oiled, and massaged her from top to toe. It had been glorious.
Finally, after a light lunch and another wee nap, they’d both wandered through to the lounge to sit with Cat and await the arrival of the first of the travellers. The portallers were home first, despite staying behind to complete the tidy up. As they arrived, Spike had had a good laugh about how the portal team and the original Buffy team had switched out almost entirely.
It turned out that Willow had used a glamour to adjust the photos on the original teams’ passports, a much simpler task than placing a glamour on four people. Spike was less amused when he discovered that Andrew had volunteered to be his substitute, and vowed to burn his passport once it arrived home, no matter if the photo was back to its normal handsome visage or not.
So it was that Dawn, Connor, Giles, Oz, Faith, Khatia had come stumbling through the portal from the motel in Gagra, dragging two bound henchman and a bagged body behind them. They’d looked scruffy and worn out. There’d been lots of hugs and more than a few tears before the weary travellers had headed off towards their bathrooms and bedrooms, too exhausted to even share any news beyond the obligatory ‘everyone’s fine and on their way’. At any rate, by that stage Buffy had needed another nap anyway.
By dinner that night everyone was home. Spike and Oz had taken the van to Gatwick to pick up the arrivals. Xander, Rowan, Tara, Andrew, Wes, Fred and Willow had turned up looking just as haggard as the portal bunch, having just survived a six hour road trip and a seven hour plane flight in close succession. Once again there were several rounds of tears, hugs and kisses; each fierce, emotional embrace conveying the depth of regret, relief and gratitude that its participants bore.
Subsequently, dinner was a rather subdued affair for a Sunday night. Usually coming together as a big group was a noisy, rambunctious event. However the mood had been more sombre that evening, the joy over Buffy and Dawn’s safe returns offset by not only universal exhaustion, but also the sober realization of how really traumatic and life-threatening an experience this had been for the Slayer.
Nevertheless, it was a time of celebration, even if it was a quiet one. Giles had got to his feet, albeit a little slowly, and lifted his glass in a solemn toast.
“To the safe return of our loved ones, Buffy and Dawn, and to the amazing group of people, family and friends one and all who exacted two such daring rescues.”
“Hear, hear,” various voices offered.
“Amazon International has been put to its first big test, and it has come away triumphant. But this is a stark warning to all of us that the forces that conspire to overthrow are not sitting back on their haunches waiting for the future to arrive. They have already set the wheels of their nefarious plans in motion, and this is but the first of many attempts I am sure they will make to thwart the fulfilment of the Song of Sagaria.”
“So you think this is in some way linked to the prophecy?” Spike asked.
“Not Dawn’s capture, I think that was relatively random; two desperate and slightly delusional chaps who conspired to interpret and take advantage of what was undoubtedly no more than a somewhat unsettling coincidence. But Buffy’s kidnapping bears all the hallmarks of a deliberate and brutal abduction, carried out specifically with the Sagaria Prophecy in mind.”
The room had been silent for a moment as Giles’ words sunk in.
“So you think that Devrim was one of those Amway guys?” Buffy had asked anxiously.
Giles had stared at her incomprehensibly, a puzzled frown marring his features. Smiles had broken out on the faces of the other Scoobies, including Spike’s before the Watcher had finally made the connection.
“Ah, yes Buffy, I think the kidnappers were in someway aligned with the Scourge of Amroz,” he’d said fondly. “It is too early yet to say in what way, but we shall ‘interview’ our prisoners this week and hopefully uncover a little more information. Now my dear, I realize it may be too soon to revisit the details of your ordeal, but can you at least give us a brief description of the major events and places?”
She’d frozen, reluctant to even think about the terror and trauma of her abduction, let alone share the details. She hadn’t even told Spike much at that stage, and he hadn’t pushed her, happy for her to open up in her own time. Then, all of a sudden they were sitting around the table, staring at her curiously, sympathetically, avidly waiting for her to dish the dirt. It had been too much.
“Think this conversation best wait for a later date Rupes,” Spike had intervened firmly, wrapping his arm around her thin form just in time to quell the shakes that began overtaking her body. “Suffice to say the girl was kidnapped by that guy in the body bag, taken to some sodding place in the countryside, where a cave beneath a tree opened up to reveal a shaft that dropped off into the bowels of the earth. She was forced to climb down, down, bloody endlessly down for days until they came to a tunnel. Buffy might have been missing from our lives for a week, but she was wandering around in that Godforsaken underworld for more than a month, alone but for her tormentor, constantly afraid for her life, forced to walk miles and miles each day. So I’m sure you’ll all excuse her if she’s not quite ready to talk about her experiences as if they’re some Hallmark movie of the week.”
Stunned silence and shocked and sorrowful expressions had greeted Spike’s rant. There were more than a few damp cheeks and shiny eyes as well. Awkwardly, Giles had dragged off his glasses and begun polishing them.
“I … I apologise Buffy, Spike. It was very insensitive of me to push you so hard. It wasn’t my intention to come across so aggressively. I’m sure it won’t hurt if we leave this until later.”
“Oh for goodness sakes guys,” Buffy’s voice had rung out in the silence. She’d turned to Spike, dropping a kiss on his jaw. “Honey, stop being such a guard dog. Thank you for your concern, and you’re not wrong but maybe ease off on the theatrics a little. Anyway, not ready to talk about my trip to hell, but I’d sure like to know how you guys ended up there, and how you all got out again.”
That had been enough to break the tension, Dawn excitedly explaining how once she’d finally got a lock on Buffy’s signal, she’d waited until she’d built up her reserves enough to open a portal. Then, Sagaria in hand, she and Connor had dashed through the opening like the Charge of the Light Brigade, luckily with greater success than the infamous cavalry.
“Actually, meant to have a word with you about that lad,” Spike gruffly addressed Connor. “Saved Buffy’s life I reckon. Was quick thinking and courageous, so thanks for that.”
“Wow,” Dawn squeaked, “Spike says thank you. Landmark moment.”
“Gonna be doing a fair bit of it pet, so you better get used to it.” He turned towards Faith. Even though she’d arrived back with the first troupe, she still looked tired, and leaner than usual. “Got a fair few people here to thank.” He caught Faith’s eyes, then Tara’s, Xander’s, Giles’, Khatia’s, Rowan’s, Dawn’s, Connor’s and Cat’s in turn, nodding his head at each of them meaningfully. “I’ll catch up with each of you as the next few days go by, but, for now,” Spike swallowed, forcing the lump in his throat down enough to let him speak, “Doubt that words alone will ever express my gratitude. You’ve become like family to me, each and every one of you. Know it was for Buffy, but it was for me too. Got that, and I won’t forget it.”
Spike’s speech was enough to set the majority off again, drifting into sentimentality and yet another round of hugs. After that, exhaustion won out, the constant trauma and sleeplessness forcing everyone off to their beds.
Buffy herself had been on the verge of unconsciousness by the time Spike got her back to their rooms. He’d become rather adept at sweeping her up and carrying her off, damsel in distress style. It was rather sweet and kinda handy given the ongoing wobbliness of her legs.
The next few days had proven to be pretty low key, at least for Buffy. By the end of the following evening, she’d pretty much recovered physically, her main body functions and strength back to normal thanks no doubt to her accelerated healing. Giles had stayed true to his word, leaving her be for the first day, then popping over for only ten or fifteen minute visits each day after that. He’d undoubtedly had to tightly rein himself in, but had limited his interviewing to only one or two questions per session.
The biggest event over the past four days had been her and Spike’s shift into their house. It wasn’t as big a deal as it sounded. The carpet layers, organised before she’d been taken and oblivious to all of their dramas, had arrived bright and early Monday morning. Spike had crawled out of bed reluctantly to let them in and give them any last minute instructions. By yesterday, all that remained was to box up their personal possessions, mainly clothing and toiletries and move their bedroom suite in. With Xander, Oz, Willow and Tara helping, it had only taken a few hours.
Last night had been their first night in their new house. Buffy was amazed by and delighted with how instantly ‘at home’ she’d felt. Of course she and Spike had spent months now refurbishing the place, painting, wallpapering and re-flooring in order to turn the house into an expression of their likes and preferences, imbuing it with their own taste. It wasn’t anything too dramatic, a background palette of cream and taupe with black and burgundy highlights, but Buffy loved it. It was the first time that she’d had the chance to decorate a room let alone a whole house, and she’d had fun.
So once her last jumper had been neatly folded into its dresser drawer and the last knick-knack had been placed on a shelf, and Dawn and Connor had been dispatched to the local supermarket with a shopping list, Spike had swung her up into his arms once again and carried her over the threshold. He’d kicked the front door shut behind them and strode across the foyer, up the stairs to their bedroom, where together they’d christened the chamber, made the most of the forty minutes alone time before her sister and her boy arrived home with the groceries.
It had been their first intimate time together since Buffy’s return. Spike the nursemaid had been too concerned for her well being before that. And to be fair, she hadn’t really been up for it anyway.
But this had been gentle lovemaking, far removed from their usual bouts of hot and sweaty. Spike had been slow and careful, worshipping at the altar of her body. His clever fingers and dextrous tongue drew out a series of quiet, but intense orgasms, leaving her in a state of sublime satisfaction. Their joining had been a homecoming, a celebration, a triumph over the dark.
Now here she was, preparing to host her first ever Scooby dinner in her new home. Four years on from her first rather shambolic and besieged attempt, Buffy was once again preparing Thanksgiving dinner for her friends and family. But she’d learnt from her past mistakes, and divided up the tasks this time. The huge 24 lb. turkey was in the oven and her only other job was to make a big bowl of creamy mashed potatoes.
As Buffy peeled, she smiled to herself, tears pricking her eyes. Given the truly traumatic experience she’d just been through, she could barely believe how happy and gratified she felt in this beautiful home. She’d worried that she might miss the rest of the gang, or feel less safe away from the others. In a house that was so close to the road that she’d been snatched from that would have been understandable. But instead she felt utterly content, the strong sense of belonging overriding any lingering fears and anxieties. Spike’s presence and thoughtfulness had been the major contributor to that peaceful contentment.
Dinner last night had been a case in point, so beautiful and enchanting. While she had napped, Spike had prepared a decadent supper for two; a delicious chicken and spinach cannelloni with homemade pasta sauce and a thick layer of cheese béchamel, followed by a mouth watering rich chocolate mousse. After eating her fill, he’d carried her back through to the bedroom for another round of gentle, but none the less sexy, lovemaking. As her strength returned, she was able to indulge herself, and Spike, in more of her favourite positions and acts. Her bowling ball belly was a little restrictive, but it was nothing they couldn’t work around. And work they did. Repeatedly.
She’d just finished her musing, all the while managing to complete her potato peeling duties as well, when she heard the crunch of car tyres on gravel. Three car doors were slammed shut and she could make out both Spike and Dawn’s voices as the front door opened. Next minute, the pair came through the lounge doors, followed by Connor, all three weighed down by numerous shopping bags.
Her sister, an endless ball of energy, surpassing even her own mystically dynamic nature, was bouncing fit to burst. Neither her own abduction, the horrifying details of which Buffy had only uncovered two days ago, nor the life defying rescue mission she and Connor had made just in the nick of time, or even the many, many portal trips the young couple had carried out as part of the clean up, seemed to have dimmed her vigour. Either that or her recovery rate was competitive with that of a slayer’s. Whichever the case, she was a sack of jumping beans.
“Buffy, Buffy, look what I got,” Dawn declared excitedly. She dragged several bags over to the table and sat down next to her sister. Spike grimaced and gave the boy a nod, the two of them heading back outside to the car to get the fold-up trestle tables out of the trunk. Meanwhile Dawn was spreading out her purchases, two dark green table cloths, six mini pumpkins, six fat pillar candles in shades of gold and red, a pack of small white tea-light candles, a packet of silk autumn leaves, pine cones, berries and two long gold table runners.
Buffy smiled indulgently at her little sister, the enthusiasm she had for her official decorating duties producing a slight system overload. As Dawn babbled on about how she was going to hollow out the small pumpkins and create some sort of wreathing effect with the leaves, Buffy considered the ways in which the teenager had stepped up over the last few months.
On top of a decrease in whininess, and an increase in general self-control, Dawn had proven herself a fully-fledged member of Amazon International. Although she hadn’t made it to Gagra until the final days of the rescue attempt, she had been instrumental in both the rescue and the mopping up activities. Over the last few days, Buffy had become familiar with the sequence of events, and it still amazed, and sometimes terrified her how involved Dawn had been.
After delivering Cat, Spike and herself back to Ashdown, Dawn had collapsed into an armchair in the motel unit, ready to help design a plan of attack. This mainly involved sorting out what needed to be done, by whom and in what order. Priority tasks involved retrieval of the abandoned team members: Xander who was up in the side of the mountain with some grizzled old Georgian guide, and Faith and Connor who were still trapped in the caves with the bad guys, two of them shackled and one dead, and the booking of flights back to London.
Dawn was involved in two out of three of those tasks. She’d traced Xander’s energy signature, opened a portal up to his cosy little tent, and deposited Willow and Wes, glamoured to look like Faith and Spike. Their job had been to convince the guide, with the help of a little charmed suggestion, that Faith and Spike were back from their caving adventure and that the three of them were going to spend another few days in the area doing cavy sort of things, and that he could thus pack up his tent and his donkey and head home.
Stage two of this cunning plan had been to whip down the tents and gear as soon as the guide was out of sight, get packed up and wait patiently for their trans dimensional portal to arrive. That was another job for Dawn of course.
In between the mountainside drop off and the pick up, she’d also portalled down to the caves, picking up the kidnappers, alive and dead, and depositing Khatia. In the interests of patriotism, the Georgian slayer had pleaded to be allowed to retrieve all of the refuse and climbing gear in order to leave behind a pristine cave environment. Giles had been reluctant to concede to this, citing time constraints, but eventually he’d agreed provided that Faith was okay with it.
Surprisingly, after a bit of grumbling, the older slayer had agreed. Their packs were still stowed somewhere back up the line, alongside some particular item that she was keen to retrieve. Spike had nodded intently when Dawn had retold this part of her adventure. While Faith had no particular interest in the caving environment, she’d been happy enough to agree to Khatia’s request given that most of their ropes and anchors were set either side of the flooded cave. Connor had gallantly volunteered to stay with the two slayers, so Dawn had ended up staying as well.
For the most part she’d portal hopped her way from cavern to cavern, waiting until Faith had led the group forward before opening up a little doorway through to the next pit stop. It may have been an easier journey than that of the others, but it was still a cold, wet, dark, hostile environment and Buffy was just so proud of Dawn’s grit and determination.
Finally they’d reached the place where Spike and Faith had left their packs. The team had been removing bolts and coiling up and stowing ropes as they went, so they had a fair swag of stuff by this stage. They were expecting to add the two packs, a small pile of wet muddy clothing, sleeping bags and refuse and the mysterious pouch to their take home luggage, but what they weren’t anticipating was a trussed up and terrified looking caving guide. The poor guy had been tied up and abandoned by the thugs that they’d overpowered down in the cavern. Dawn shuddered to think what would have happened to him if they hadn’t gone back for their gear.
By that point everyone had been cold, exhausted and at the end of their tethers. Dawn’s final job for the day had been opening a portal back to the motel, holding it open while everyone lugged the equipment and gear through and helped the poor bewildered guide to shuffle his way through the tunnel of light, then stepping through herself.
She’d arrived back to find the motel nearly deserted. Half of the team had already departed for Tbilisi. Xander, who’d had a long, hot shower, eaten and grabbed a few hours sleep before they set off, was driving, and Rowan, Andrew, Fred, Wesley, Tara and Willow had accompanied him, altered passports in hand. They’d taken the weapons crate and most of the luggage with them.
Only Giles and Oz had remained behind to greet the returning heroes. The two men had been momentarily shocked by the addition of a traumatised guide to the incoming crew, but after Faith’s explanation, Giles had placed the poor man under a compulsion spell, got him fed, showered and into some of the Watcher’s spare clothes. While the guy slept, and Oz cleaned and sorted their gear, the cave team had got cleaned up and changed themselves. Faith, who’d spent five days in the caves by this stage, had eaten a decent sized meal and retired to one of the bedrooms.
Buffy didn’t know the details of how they sorted out the situation with the caving guide, just that it involved some sort of brainwashing or ‘persuasive thought reform’ as Giles called it and a bonus pile of donated caving equipment. She truly hoped that they’d managed to wipe out all of the terrifying memories. She wished that she could lose hers so easily.
Sighing, Buffy tried to put those sorts of negative thoughts behind her and tune back into Dawn’s babble. She’d set out her decorations on the runner, waiting eagerly for Buffy’s approval. Overcome by emotions and big sisterly pride, Buffy threw her arms around her little sister.
“I love you Dawn. And I’m so proud of you,” she exclaimed, tears clouding her vision.
“Oh, ah, thanks Buffy, I love you too.” She paused before adding, “They’re mostly just from the discount store you know. Nothing too amazing.”
Buffy chuckled and shook her head. “Amazing or not, you chose them and I know you’re going to do a great job setting up the decorations.
The rest of the day passed by quickly, especially for Buffy, who managed to squeeze an early afternoon nap into her schedule. By the time she got up and wandered out to the lounge, the guys had set up the trestle tables and laid out eighteen chairs around them and Dawn had decorated and set the tables. The effect was stunning. The green and gold linen, and the pumpkins, candles, cones and berries created a festive look. Spike had made a trip over to the restaurant and borrowed eighteen full place settings from Dave, plain white crockery, silver cutlery and crystal stemware. All they needed now were the guests.
And it didn’t take long for them to begin trickling in. Wes and Fred arrived first, with two homemade pumpkin pies and a big bowl of cream in hand. Buffy was getting them to put their wares in the fridge just as Giles and Cat rocked up with a big cooler full of drinks: wine, beer, soda and various juices. Spike and Connor set to work pouring drinks as further guests wandered in through the door: Rowan and Xander came bearing beans, carrots and two big casserole dishes of stuffing; Tara, Willow and Oz with homemade cranberry sauce, and several bowls of candied yams; and Andrew, Faith and Khatia, who brought a large basket of warm dinner rolls with them.
Lastly, but by no means least, Althanea arrived, accompanied by the charming Frank Gardner, the solicitor who had officiated at Giles and Cat’s wedding. After a drink and a tour of the house, everyone took their seats.
Buffy clambered to her feet, tapping her knife against the side of her juice glass and waiting patiently for everyone to settle down and look her way.
“So, yeah, hi!” she smiled broadly around the table. “Thank you all for coming today, for sharing our joy as Spike and I christen our new home, and for the wonderful contributions you’ve brought to this feast. I just wanted to say, well I know my speeches are usually delivered at the pointy end of things, just before all of the world ending stuff is about to go down. But I wanted a chance to say a huge, huge thanks to all of you today. Because I’m very, very grateful. I think what I’ve just survived has been the most terrifying ordeal I’ve ever been through. And a lot of my dramas take some topping. I spent weeks feeling so helpless, and so terrified for my baby.
But deep down I always knew that you’d find me, that Spike would come for me and that you guys would be alongside him every step of the way. It pretty much kept me going, kept me plodding along, one foot in front of the other, even when I wanted to just lie down and give up. So to my brave and fearless sweetheart Spike, to my amazing sister Dawn and to the rest of my fantastic family, I’d like to raise my glass to you in heartfelt thanks.” She lifted her juice to them and took a sip and sat down.
Everyone else broke out in spontaneous applause, while various cries of “Hear, hear!” rang out from around the room.
Spike leapt quickly to his feet, sensing the beginning of a long round of speeches about to erupt from either end of the table.
“Oi you lot! Before you colonials get started on your rituals of thanksgiving sharing, I suggest we all load up our plates with the fruits of our labours and share our gratitude over the meal. Otherwise Thanksgiving’s likely to take place on a Friday this year.”
There was general agreement over this proposition and they wandered through in twos and threes to the kitchen where the dining table had been set up buffet style, groaning under the weight of the delicious looking traditional fare. Guests piled their plates high before returning to their allotted seats.
Before they started eating, Giles rose to his feet. Putting his hand up to ward off any lighthearted criticism, he cleared his voice.
“Just a few quick words to bless this meal and all that gather here to share it. In the immortal words of the Bard, ‘Oh Lord that lends me life, lend me a heart replete with thankfulness.’ Amen. Eat up.”
There was a mumbled ‘amen’ in response followed quickly by the clatter of knives and forks as people picked up their cutlery and began their meal. As they ate, they passed the sharing stick around the table. Each individual had a turn, and although there was a common enough theme about his or her thanks, each felt it bore repeating. Those that had departed were honored, Joyce, Anya and Jenny in particular. But chief amongst the counting of blessings was an appreciation for new love and new life. New or strengthened friendship also rated highly. Time and again heartfelt thanks were expressed for the gift of family and of survival. It was a heartening experience.
Finally, as Tara finished expressing her gratitude, for the support and wisdom of her Guardian sisters, for the opportunity to return to the living world, for the love and passion of Willow and Oz, and for the fellowship of family, she added her final coda.
“And of course, for the worst kept secret out there, but the most treasured gift of all, for the new life that Willow, Oz and I have created. To my own dear little one,” she placed her hand over her flat belly, “And to all the other little Scions that are and may yet be, may we all love them, protect them and give thanks.”
Everyone stood and raised their glasses on high as an emotional Spike called out, “To family,” and tears, laughter and a thundering echo filled the room.