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[A/N: Title is from “Alastor, or, the Spirit of Solitude” (l. 727) by Percy Bysshe Shelley. I kind of thought that the man who’s wife wrote Frankenstein would appreciate being quoted in a vampire’s story. The other quotes are as attributed. Standard disclaimers remain in full force and effect.]

Thank you everyone that's taken the time to review. I appreciate it so very much. Your kind words mean a lot to me. -- Nia


Previously: Giles returned to England, but before his plane cleared Los Angeles air space, Willow was working on the retrieval. Spike left the girls, thinking they were all safe. He’s not having an easy night on patrol, but then no one is having an easy time of it. This chapter picks up immediately after the last one – there is no time lapse.

11. Birth and the grave, that are not as they were.

Our birth is nothing but our death begun.
Edward Young, Night, l. 718

They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant,
then its night once more.
Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot, p. 57a

The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying.
T.S. Eliot, Ash-Wednesday, pt. 6



Pushing the dirt down was becoming harder. She kept kicking it down with her feet, and she thought there was more room, but she couldn’t get her feet to work properly. Her arms were stretched out as far as they would go, and still she was trapped. There was no choice though, she had to keep going, because staying put was not an option.

There was no air and she had no idea how far she had to go to break free. Trying desperately to keep the panic at bay she managed to get her feet underneath her and struggled up into a crouched position.

It was easier to breathe, but there still was no fresh air. At least there was no pressure on her chest and she didn’t have to strain as hard. It also gave her more room to work with, extending her reach.

Moving the dirt wasn’t any easier, thought it was giving her a sense of accomplishment. At least she was doing something. Once she was free there would be time to figure out what had happened.

******************************* *******************************

Spike was breathing heavily, something he really didn’t need to do, but after getting rid of the nest, he decided he deserved a breather. A low ironic chuckle sounded in the air around him.

Bloody hell that was a good fight.

Once he’d recovered a bit, Spike finally looked around at his surroundings. Fucking hell. He’d really wanted to avoid this part of Restfield tonight. Something kept drawing him closer, more than he’d wanted to admit before this. He might be able to hide from everyone, sometimes even Dawn, but whenever he was alone, with time to himself, he couldn’t hide from the pain. There was no release.

The loss of Buffy was as sharp today as it had been the moment she’d fallen. There was no space between, there was no time between. Her loss was a constant ache, an ongoing pain. Always half expecting her to pop up with a quip and a sharp comment, verbally sparring with him like no other person he’d ever known.

He’d been matched by that little girl in more ways than one and her being gone only highlighted his isolation. Not even Drusilla had been able to keep up with him, her bouts of being less than lucid were always between them. Drusilla had opened doors for him, but he’d soon outstripped her tutelage, making a name for himself separate and apart from her.

But Buffy . . . . Buffy was different. She kept him going, always surprising him, always in step with him. He missed her the way he missed his heartbeat. Knew it should be there, beneath his chest and feeling somewhat lesser for its loss.

Such a tiny thing she’d been, yet her presence filled every room she’d ever entered. Only she’d been able to tap into his boundless energy, matching it with her own.

God almighty how he missed her.

He knew, staring up at the stars, that he’d never really get over her loss.

******************************* *******************************

Tara no longer knew what to think or feel. Bare seconds after falling beside an unconscious Willow, she’d known exactly what had happened. Memories flooded back, like a sick slide show, Willow’s actions and decisions laid bare. Tara’s first thought had been concern, but now, as she and Dawn half-walked half-dragged the dazed girl home, her secondary reaction began to settle in. She was angry. Angry beyond anything she could ever imagine feeling, or ever imagined that she might be capable of.

How dare she? What on earth had she been thinking, what had she thought she could accomplish? On no, Tara knew what Willow had been trying, but couldn’t believe she’d had the arrogance to assume it would work. And why on . . . . her train of thought was distracted by a groan from Willow.

There was no way Tara could ever tell Dawn what Willow had attempted. It would shatter the poor girl. On top of the goddess’ visit, that it had been Willow who played with their minds, trying to play god and bring Buffy . . . . no, Tara wasn’t even going to think about that until they were all safe at home.

She felt weak as a kitten and she wished Spike would swoop in and save the day, like he usually did.

Tara suddenly thought it was the first time she’d actively wished for his help, almost praying for him to show up.

******************************* *******************************

Spike was currently stuck fighting again. This night was turning out to be endless. Nights like this he really regretted being so strong and so . . . nah, that was such bullshit even he didn’t believe it. He lived for nights like this or unlived for this. When the battles were endless and time flew by.

Three more idiot vampires, but at least these wankers knew who he was. They’d still tried to fight and they still ended up deader.

Looking up, Spike realized he was only yards away from Buffy’s final resting place. Finally giving into the inevitable, Spike slowly began to make his way over.

****************************** *******************************

At first she didn’t realize what had happened. Her fingers pushed through the earth, bringing fresh clean air to her starved lungs. Working faster now that she had some hope her fingers started cramping in her haste.

Scrabbling desperately for purchase and using her legs to help push her up, her head finally broke free.

Air . . . . oh god . . . she took her first real deep breaths in forever. Great gulping gasps filled the still air, sounding harsh and small.

Breaking the rest of her body free, the girl finally pulled herself all the way out. Her strength was gone. Every nerve in her body hummed, every muscle screamed in agony. The relief was searing. Her stomach rolled and she panted heavily, her face resting on the earth she’d just escaped. Her eyes opened, blearily taking in her surroundings. She knew . . . . oh god, she knew where she was. . . . closing her eyes again she thought if I don’t look it won’t be real . . . won’t be real . . Don’t look. Don’t.

Turning her head, she slowly opened her eyes and couldn’t deny what her heart was telling her. She’d just crawled from her own grave.

Pushing up on her hands and knees, she vomited up the meager contents of her belly.

******************************* *******************************

They were home, relatively safe inside the walls of the little house on Revello Drive. Tara motioned Dawn toward the couch, where they nearly dumped Willow’s still mostly inert form. Tara’s skin crawled and she didn’t want to be any closer to Willow than was absolutely necessary.

Her mind was still reeling from all that had happened. She was numb, her entire body was on sensory overload. Dry mouth and crawling skin and her ears were still constantly ringing. Maybe that explained why she didn’t react when Dawn started speaking “Tara, what happened? What was all this? Tara?”

She looked at Dawn, pulling her gently away from Willow. “Sweetie, I’m not really sure about everything that just . . .” Interrupting her, Dawn spoke “that wasn’t really Mom was it?” She was beginning to understand, but she still really didn’t believe all that she’d seen and experienced tonight. What she did know was that whatever or whoever had tried opening the portal wasn’t doing it with the best of intentions.

“No sweetie that wasn’t your mom.” The two girls were now standing in the kitchen, their heads close together while they whispered. “That was Gaia, the mother. Dawnie, I have to tell you something.” Sensing this wasn’t going to be easy, Dawn slumped onto one of the stools. Tara didn’t want to be the one to bring it up, but for Dawn’s protection she had too. She owed it to the goddess, to the memory of Buffy, but most especially to the girl in front of her. “Dawn. It was Willow. She tried doing something she should never have attempted.”

Dawn slumped onto one of the stools, her head dropping. Before she spoke she took a deep breath, then said what she thought. “It was Buffy, right? She wanted to bring Buffy back. That’s why she hid everything from us.”

She wasn’t going to lie to the teenager. Not now and not ever. It was no way to keep someone’s trust. Something Willow had obviously forgotten – but Tara couldn’t focus on Willow and what she’d done right now. She had to focus on Dawn and what she needed.

Later, she would worry about Willow and her inexplicable actions later.

“That’s what I think. . . yes, Dawnie. She tried and she failed. I’m so sorry sweetie.” Much sorrier than she would ever be able to express. Despair unlike any she’d felt before filled Tara, along with the growing anger at Willow’s hubris. How dare she toy with them like this? Tara could almost feel the pieces of her heart falling away, but again she couldn’t and wouldn’t focus on that.

Dawn’s tears caught her attention and Tara gathered her into her arms. “I’m so sorry Dawnie. Soo sorry.”

What Willow had done hurt more than it helped, completely destroying any progress the last Summers had made in the grieving process. Just another nail in the coffin of her feelings for the redhead.

******************************** *******************************
She’d vomited up all the dirt she’d accidently swallowed during her crawl upwards. Trembling violently she could barely push herself up. She couldn’t control her muscles enough to get to her feet and even if she could, she still wasn’t sure where she was or where to go. She had no idea how long she’d been gone or who was left.

The inscription on the marble stone in front of her gave her some information, which in turn gave her more vague memories. Reaching out a hand to trace the letters, she remembered her name. Buffy . . . that’s what she was called.

Sudden tears coursed down her cheeks.
She had a name.

She was Buffy.

It was enough for now.

******************************* *******************************

Despite his heartfelt misgivings, Spike followed his feet toward the place he’d been on a collision course with all night.

Something had been drawing him here, no matter how hard he’d fought against it. But here he was, twenty feet from it. His eyes trained on the headstone, he stopped short. There was something at her grave. At first glance it looked like Dawn.

“Nibblet . . . you shouldn’t be out here.” A cautious step forward and Spike caught a whiff of something . . . It was the scent of decay.

Whatever it was on top of Buffy’s grave wasn’t Dawn. The figure scrabbled away from him, almost curling in on itself, huddling down against the headstone. Spike halted his approach, realizing whatever it was, was more scared of him than anything else. “All right then. I won’t hurt you. My promise.”

A couple more cautious steps forward brought Spike to the foot of the grave. His senses went berserk, every nerve end screaming. The way this creature . . . looking down at his feet, Spike finally noticed the disturbed earth beneath his feet.

Oh fucking . . . no. . . fuck . . fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Crooning nonsense words now, Spike took a few more steps closer. Crouching down, resting on his haunches, he reached out a tentative hand.

“Pet. Its me. Its Spike, love. You’re safe now. C’mon Buffy love, its me.”

Wild hazel eyes met his blue ones and Spike had to swallow his anger and despair. She needed him, not his emotional outburst.

Even so, he couldn’t stop the tears flooding his eyes, when he looked at her.

“‘lo love. Remember me? Remember Spike?”

Leaving his hand extended, Spike relaxed his muscles one by one, since his first, last and every instinct was to snatch her up into his arms, crushing her in his embrace, never to let go. She was scared, skittish and she didn’t know . . . Didn’t recognize him yet.

Too scared to move, too hurt not to, she couldn’t make her muscles respond. His hand was solid, steady in the air before her, and oh, how she wanted to reach out and touch him, make sure he was real and she was safe, but she couldn’t force herself to move. Not yet. She still wasn’t certain of who he was, but some memory triggered in her jumbled thoughts. Spike. Safe. Protected.

“C’mon pet. My promise to keep you safe.”

To his absolute and utter surprise, he watched when understanding and memory returned to her frightened eyes.

Her lips formed his name, but no sound emerged. A tiny hand reached out, grasping his fingertips.

And Spike couldn’t fight the tears any longer.





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