Sometimes it’s good to get back to basics.

I mean, I’ll tell you this for nothing – I’ve had more than enough of crises and apocalypses and old boyfriends turning into mad gods.

We gave Earth back it’s magic. Stopped the Armageddon-de-jour. Now I’m back to Slaying the undead so they don’t overrun Santa Rosita – a suburban California town.

Buffy Summers swings her Scythe, the whistle of it’s downward trajectory flowing into her ears. It’s the only thing she can hear as she’s lost in her own thoughts.

It’s downright nostalgic.

But nostalgia can be dangerous.

You get too comfortable… let your guard down… and bad things happen.

She stakes a zompire behind her and it explodes into dust. She watches the one coming at her, but doesn’t see the one behind until it’s too late. Weapons ready, she looks around her, charting their positions. Making a plan.

There’s a line in one of the books Giles used to try and get me to read: “You can’t go home again.”

I never did read that book. Kinda my M.O. But I think I got the gist.

Another blood-sucker, but this one a normal vamp, approaches. Intelligent, greedy, urge to feed. She’s wearing stripey socks up to her thighs, a skirt that’s more than a little mini and has a cute robot on her top. She comes to the side of Buffy and grabs her arm, pulling it down and seizing her stake from her hand.

Buffy bounces back, knocking the zompire before her, as the newly arrived vampire raises the stake.

Then she smiles, sort of. Fangs dripping, looking straight in Buffy’s eyes.

Then she turns, swift as an arrow, and stakes the zompire to her left.

The Slayer smiles, turns back to her other opponent. Now, back to back with the vampire, Buffy surges forward, the vampire’s unlikely voice now sounding in her ears.

“Got your back.”

Things change.

Within minutes, the zompires are dust. Buffy and the vampire look at each other. It’s not warm, but it’s not downright frigid either.

“You’re welcome,” the red-headed vamp says.

Buffy looks back at her, aware of the sarcasm in her voice. “What? We’re supposed to act like BFFs now? This is an ‘enemy of my enemy’ kinda deal. You and your pointy-toothed posse came to me!”

The vampire takes out another zompire, without any effort. “Our town’s infested with these mindless animals because you wrecked magic – your clean-up.”

“I kinda hoped bringing magic back would get people to stop with the shaming.” Buffy’s getting rattled now. “Look, the status quo is, once again, quo. Zompires are now a limited edition. When they’re gone, they’re gone. So let’s just take care of business and go back to the traditional vampire/Slayer dynamic, okay?”

The vampire looks at her. Rolls her eyes. “Your tradition? Sorry, but I’m just not that into you.”

Buffy loses her temper, the mention of her past getting to her. She turns now, ignoring all other concerns, and moves towards the vampire, the attitude driving her nerves to their edge.

The vampire is just as keen, rages back.

“Mouthy little…”

“Bring it skank!”

“Oi!”

The leather clad arm separates them before any major blows can be exchanged. The English accent makes the vampire chuckle, but it’s deadpan tone makes Buffy feel, surprisingly, safe. Spike turns to the vampire.

“On your way, young blood. Bunch of your lot are in a brawl two streets over. Could use the help. Plus, Willow found some civilians hiding in a basement. She’s bringing them in and I could do without inter-species conflict.”

The red head, attitude on high alert, her hands on her hips, scowls. Her tone is flippant. “I have a name. It’s Vicki.”

Buffy dusts herself off, moves towards Spike and looks at Vicki, amusement on her face. “Seriously? ‘Vicki the vampire’?”

Vicki scoffs as she walks away. “Right, because ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ is downright Shakespearean.”

With the vampire gone, Buffy shivers, glad to be away. She turns to her companion. “Thanks, Spike. Sorry I’m being all Mean Girl. I just know I’m gonna have to stake her when this is over and I don’t wanna feel like a backstabber. Front-stabber. Is that horrible?”

“More like common sense. They’re gonna turn on us the second the zompires are gone. Admiral Bloody Ackbar could see it coming. But we’ll handle them. Easy. And I for one, will lose no sleep. Don’t worry. If you and me can sort things out, I think it’s safe to say you’re not prejudiced.”

“Right. The sorting has been nicely sorted. Um… Did you say Willow?”

“Right behind you.” Willow‘s voice comes from above. She gently floats to the ground, two young girls with her. She says their names are Abby and Zoey Miller, and they need help.

“Their mom works outside the evacuation zone. They need a ride on the freedom train.”

Spike gestures at the cell phone he has in his hand. “Already called. Be here in a minute.”

The youngest of the girls turns to Willow, asking if she’s coming with them to safety, but Willow crouches down to her level, places her hand on her shoulder and sighs. “I wish. I’ve got a force field around town keeping the monsters in. If I try another spell for more than a minute, everything starts to unravel. This new magic’s so raw. Strong, but man, can it burn.”

She realises that everybody’s staring at her for a second. “Sorry. Shop talk.” She turns back to the Miller girls. “Don’t worry. My friends are kind of pros at this sort of thing.”

Then, their transport out of the danger zone arrives, a screeching noise signifying the speed it’s going. It has stakes decorated on the front of the bonnet. As the van stops just inches from the group, the door opens in a dramatic flourish and the girls look up.

“Come with me if you want to live.”

A voice from inside the van yells in annoyance. “Really, Andrew? Are you going to say it every time?”

“But I’m this close to nailing the accent!”

A woman, younger than Willow, closer to Abby Miller’s age, smiles. “Hi. I’m Dawn. Wanna get out of here?”

“Are you a super-person too?” asks Zoey and Dawn can’t help but smile.

“We’re all super in our own way. Or so the super people keep telling me. But I do drive fast. Really fast.”

As the van screeches away, Buffy and Spike cling to the back of the vehicle, as Willow turns in the sky and fires fire from her fingers at the zompires. She yells at the others to go: she’ll hold them off, providing air support. As Buffy watches her friend whirl and twist in the night air, she sighs. She feels like she’s let Willow down and her thoughts start racing now, faster than Dawn’s driving.

I wish I could give you support.

Poor Willow. She was lost when magic went away. But after her cosmic walkabout, she seemed so together. Then we gave Earth new magic. Win!

Except it’s different now. She’s learning a whole new operating system, while everyone expects her to be ‘Willow the Great and Powerful.’ My best friend is exhausted. Overwhelmed. Used to be Giles would help with something like this, but, oh yeah, I got our father-figure killed.

Willow starts to struggle, the amount of creatures too much for her, and a number of zompires get past her. As Spike launches into action, he looks back at Buffy, vamp face on and snarls. “No fear, luv. I rode the New York subway in the Seventies. Far worse.”

He doesn’t leave the van’s shell, managing to slice and dice his way through them as the zompires try to catch the van. Spike doesn’t realise that the whole time he’s fighting, Buffy doesn’t take her eyes off him. And her thoughts race again.

At least Spike’s in a good place. A great place, really. For both of us. We can be around each other without all the history getting in the way.

Inside the van, Dawn is concentrating, going at an unholy speed down the highway. She yells back that she learnt how to drive under similar conditions and that her passengers, who look decidedly worried, should not worry. One of the sisters asks why they’re working with a vampire, looking at Spike, but Andrew turns to her calmly. “Spike? Spike is one of us. He has a soul.”

He starts to tell the girls one of his stories. About how Spike went through agonising pain to get his soul. How it was all for the unrequited love of the woman he could never be with. And now, apparently, he fights for justice with a roguish charm and a rough exterior that masks a heart of nobility.

The girls, and Andrew himself, look out the window at the vampire, fighting for their lives, and they all sigh.

Outside, Spike tells Buffy there’s too many zompires and that they’re being slowed down.

Yeah. This is how it had to be for us, after everything. The super-hot but oh-so-wrong-affair. The awful place I was in when it happened. All the way we hurt each other. And just the giant mountain of problems that comes with a Slayer and a Vampire together. Especially this Slayer.

Buffy joins Spike now, flowing together, hanging from the back of the van as it accelerates. Kicking the last zompire from the fender, Buffy smiles.

It’s all good now. This is exactly what I wanted.

Spike grabs her by the shoulders, pulls her close and smiles into her eyes. He asks if she’s okay, and Buffy leans in to his embrace. “Couldn’t be better,” she says, returning the smile.

Yay for maturity.

Willow glides above them in the air and looks down at them, concerned. The good news is that they have successfully managed to herd the zompires out of Santa Rosita. It’s also the bad news as well, however, as that means that all of the zompires that were in Santa Rosita are now following their van!

Buffy yells for her sister, still driving a bit too quickly, Buffy thinks. She considers yelling about it, but then reconsiders, remembering her own driving skills. “Dawn, call Xander and tell him the sitch!”

Dawn’s phone has already dialled Xander’s number and she hurriedly relays the message down the line. The zompires are on their trail. Is he ready?

He assures her on the other end that he’s all prepared. He asks Dawn how she is, but she rebuffs him, saying that she’s currently driving for her life. Xander apologises, but just wanted to ask. Dawn again reminds him she’s at the wheel of a car and Xander, taking the hint, hangs up. Andrew notices the look of anguish on Dawn’s face.

Buffy hears it in her voice.

What is going on with them? We saved Dawn’s life. This should be their happily ever after. Instead. they’re all eggshell-walky.

Like mom and dad, right before they stopped caring enough to fake it and just started being horrible to each other.

She looks to the front of the van, sees Dawn’s face, upset and sad in the wing mirror.

I know how to save the world. Done it a bunch of times. I don’t know what to do about this. I’d give anything to talk to Giles for just five minutes…

Up the road, a few minutes away, Xander Harris is at a gas station, surrounded by stores, having just put the phone down.

“That was weird,” he says, turning to his companion. “Dawn’s definitely acting weird. Isn’t she?”

“‘Weird’ is nothing new with this bunch! But yes.”

Xander bends to fix some electrics together, a row of containers behind him. He keeps talking, needs to get it out. “It bothers her. That I betrayed Buffy to save her life. They both say they forgive me, but she’s been acting funny ever since.”

His companion doesn’t move to help. But the conversation still flows. “‘Funny’ as in mad at you? Afraid of you?”

Xander shakes his head. “None of the above. More like… like she’s having doubts. About us. And she doesn’t wanna say it.”

“You’d know what that looks like.”

“So, I’m not making this up, right? I’m not just being crazy?” He turns to where his friend is sitting on one of the containers, expecting another piece of advice.

Anya smiles back at him. “Well, you’re the one talking to the ghost of your dead-ex-fiancée. So that’s kind of a loaded question, isn’t it?”

Xander turns when he hears the screech in the distance. “Here they come.” He sighs, then looks back at Anya. She’s glowing, almost see-through, but not quite. He smiles at her. “I’m not trying to be a jerk, but can you go back in your magic lamp or…?”

“They can’t see me,” Anya explains. “I’m like Pete’s Dragon.”

Xander grins, but corrects her. “Some people could see Pete’s Dragon. There was that drunk light house keeper.”

Anya gets off the container, walks towards Xander. She points in his direction, the voice getting louder in typical Anya-mania. He missed this.

“You realise I’m probably a sign of a brain tumour or encroaching mental illness? People seeing me is the least of your worries.”

“Fine, but my relationship is hanging by a thread here, so…”

“Oh, sure,” Anya retorts back, annoyed now. “God forbid the woman who gave up her vengeance demon powers for you, only to be left at the altar and eventually killed, inconvenience you romantically.”

Xander turns to her. “Is this where every conversation is going to end up, because…” He looks up, finishing what he was doing. She’s gone. He’s on his own again, for now.

“Y’know what? Do what you want. I got a rescue to ride to.”

As Dawn’s erratic driving causes the van to careen towards him, Xander plugs in the sockets he’d been rigging: the containers are actually tanning beds! He powers them all up at once, energy surging through them due to Xander’s wiring and sparks UV light everywhere, frying the demons behind the van and prompting a yell of irritation from Spike, who barely moves in time.

“And Xander said ‘let there be light!”

When the Miller girls ask him what happened, he tells them that UV light isn’t as strong as sunlight, but it got the job done. “Being normal doesn’t mean being powerless,” he says to them, with a smile. “It just calls for a little more creativity.”

“Preach it, my unremarkable brother!”

The voice comes from the exit of the nearest store and it belongs to Billy Lane. He’s joined by Slayer Anaheed and boyfriend Devon, who have been working hard to rid Santa Rosita of it’s zompire problems all summer. Xander introduces the Millers, but Billy used to babysit. When asked if they’re Slayers, Devon has a well-rehearsed speech that comes tumbling out. “No. Yes. Jury’s still out,” he says, pointing at each of his friends in turn, leaving Billy until last.

“The safe zone’s two blocks up,” he says, offering to escort them. Once they’re on the other side of Willow’s field, they’ll be fine.

Watching from the van, Andrew has his arms folded, looking over at the teenagers. “If I were any greener with envy, I’d be gamma irradiated. Billy just decided to live the life he wanted – to Hell with convention and rules. And he was accepted.”

Dawn turns to Andrew, picking up on something about her friend. She then turns to him. “Oh my God, Andrew! You could totally do the same!” she tells him excitedly. “Why would you think for a second that you wouldn’t be accepted?”

Andrew looks at her, crouches down to her level, hands on her shoulders. He’s looking excited as well. “You really think I could be a Slayer?”

Dawn’s face falls. “A Slayer? Of course I do. Because that’s what you meant. And me too!” She smiles, trying to hide her thoughts.

Spike and Buffy, meanwhile, are still battling zompires. Willow continues to rain fire on them from above, but there’s too many of the creatures.

“If this is all of them – and it damn well feels like it – where’s Little Miss Undead Hipster?” Spike yells over the din of the battle, unsure if Buffy can hear him. She swings with her Scythe, takes a head off and turns to him.

“Probably hiding. It’s almost dawn. And you said yourself, they’d double-cross us. They’re soulless monsters. What did you expect?” She turns again, swinging the weapon, which dusts a vampire with a satisfying sound. She’s about to face another when a voice, belonging to Vicki the Vampire, comes from around her, as the vampire arrives, with her pack, to aid in the battle.

“Or maybe we had to fight out way through them to get to you!” she yells, aiming her jibe straight at Buffy, who ignores her. “You wanna keep trolling me, or would you rather wipe these stains off the planet?” Her tone is smart and casual – and really starting to piss Buffy off.

Buffy simply asks Vicki if they really hate the zompires so much, as the pack joins her and Spike, encircled by the bad guys, weapons raised. Vicki looks at Buffy, genuine grievance in her voice.

“Leave them alone, they’ll run rampant. Either use up the natural resources, or get us all killed. They’re even worse than your kind. At least you’re tasty.” She’s not joking, but frames it as one. Buffy’s trademark sarcasm returns the favour.

“So nice to know your motives are pure.”

It’s then that the zompires converge on the group.

Forty minutes later, Spike puts a stake in his last zompire. “Took longer than I’d like, but I think we got this won. Fighting hordes of feral vampires and not bursting into flame at the end is rather a nice switch for me.” As he speaks, Willow and Buffy also do the same.

“You’re an incorrigible fate-tempter, aren’t you? Or did you forget what happens every morning about now?” Buffy looks at Spike and he looks back, seeing her point to the sky, where the early morning sun is rising rapidly.

“Ah, right,” he says, sighing and looking up. “Time for all those of the undead persuasion to be snug in their coffins.” He sighs again and then walks towards the row of stores nearby. He points ahead of himself. “Or, in my case, that liquor store. Terribly sorry I can’t help with the tidying up. Anyone needs me, I’ll be righteously drunk.”

He doesn’t look back as he walks to the safety of the building.

The sun still rising, Buffy turns to Vicki to address her and her pack. “Yeah, so maybe we stretched out the fight a little, cause I knew where this was going.”

She looks at Vicki, being as honest as she can. “You turn on us, we have to kill you. I feel bad about it, even though I really shouldn’t, because you’re undead monsters. And I’m just not in the mood, you know? So thanks, seriously. Now, head on back to the old crypt. Or crumble to dust in the sun. It’s no skin off my…”

Vicki and her vampires are still standing there, grinning. The sun high above them.

Willow floats to Buffy’s side as soon as she sees what’s happening. Buffy looks at her and then at Vicki. “Um… Confused?”

“Someone get a picture. That look on her face. I want to keep it forever.” Vicki’s voice is full of glee, a look of hate on her face. “Never mind. I’ll just keep the face. Make a pillow out of it.” And with that, Vicki and her pack charge forward towards Buffy and her allies, roaring loudly.

Buffy isn’t that impressed to start with, meeting Vicki in the centre of the parking lot. Another vampire tries for her Scythe. “Overconfident much?”

“So you’ve got special sunscreen. Big whoop. I’ve been dusting you creeps longer than I’ve been driving.” She takes the vampire that has the Scythe, retrieving it, plunging her stake in his chest and awaits his dusting. Except this vampire doesn’t dust. Buffy is surprised for a moment.

Vicki just grins and cackles in Buffy’s face. “Things are different now.”

With a grin, Buffy uses the Scythe and hits the stake with the blade. It edges further into the vampire’s heart and, in an instant, he turns to dust. “Not that different, apparently.”

“Different enough.” Vicki stands to her full height and, to Buffy’s sheer amazement transforms into a large bat!

Spike looks out of the window, throws the bottle in his hand down in shock. “What the friar tuck?” He runs for the door, shouting at Buffy. “Hang on Slayer, I’m… GAH!” He’s stopped, as the sun’s rays hit him as soon as he reaches the glass door. He pulls his hand back as it sizzles, the smell of burning flesh in his nostrils.

Willow hears him yell, turns back for a moment, field in place keeping the vampires at bay and away from the store. “Stay in the shadows, Spike! You’re still vulnerable to sunlight. There’s something different about these guys.” She looks more concerned than Spike has seen her for some time. She yells, this time shouting further orders to the others. “Dawn, Andrew, Xander – get inside with Spike! He’ll protect you!”

Xander starts to object, raising a weapon and moving forward. “Hey! The day I…” But, suddenly he’s surprised as Andrew holds him back. “No, she’s right. There’s been a paradigm shift in the mythos.”

Spike opens the door, using his coat to cover his skin and yells at them. “Get in here.” They come in and barricade the door, Spike muttering to himself in the corner. “So I don’t feel completely useless, if nothing else.”

Andrew looks at Dawn and then back at Willow. “They’re turning into mist, bats, night panthers… we’ve seen this before: when those Japanese vampires stole Dracula’s powers.”

“It’s not that,” Willow yells back. “Dracula taught me how to undo that spell. This is something different. Something new. I can feel it… They’re inherently stronger.”

Dawn hears that and all worry goes from her face. “Screw that,” she says, reaching down and reloading her crossbow. “I have a one time limit on my sister dying for me.”

Spike suggests they grab the strongest alcohol they can find, create some Molotov cocktails. He orders Andrew to take off his shirt and tear it into strips, but Andrew says he has body issues. Spike doesn’t care, and rips the front from the shirt off a frantic and embarrassed Andrew, who’s surprisingly buff under the shirt, Dawn notices.

Spike then turns to Xander, his voice quiet. “Harris. If this goes bad, get the Little Bit out of here.”

Xander turns to him with the same look on his face. “That’s what I was going to say to you.”

Dawn hears them and bounds over, crossbow armed and ready to fire. “I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

Spike nods and removes the barricade. “Then fight like Hell.”

As the vampires charge the store, they transform, some into wolves, some into cats and they ferociously try to get through Buffy and her team. As Buffy fights, she thinks, but it becomes more and more obvious as she battles that they can’t keep up at this pace.

So stupid. So arrogant. So arrogant and stupid. I put us in a hot zone and assumed I could get us out, like always. Now everyone is going to pay for my mistake. We got back together just to die together.

She watches for the others as she cuts a swath through the vamps, can see them being overwhelmed in moments.

We’ve been slowly falling apart, ever since Giles first left for England. I thought I could hold us together.

I can’t even keep us alive.

Please, if there’s anything cosmic out there that doesn’t want to kill us… I haven’t asked for a lot. And I’ve lost a lot.

Don’t let any more people I love die because of me.

She yells at Willow over the din. She orders the witch to get their friends out of there while she covers for them. Willow is astounded by the transformations and is concerned about being followed, but Dawn yells in Buffy’s direction.

“No! I’m not leaving you! We can win this if we stick together!” Buffy hears her sisters words, takes them in, but looks at her. “Dawnie, we are together, and it’s not enough. There’s no one left to save us.”

Dawn can’t be sure, because she’s never seen it before, but is that a look of defeat on Buffy’s face?

As a vampire approaches Buffy from behind, she’s slightly too late in her movement, but the vamp goes down without Buffy raising a weapon. A familiar voice taunts her, lovingly, through the dust. “Ain’t that just typical?”

Buffy turns, and smiles, her face lighting up. It’s Faith Lehane, and she’s armed with twin blades and is already in the thick of it, up to her neck in vampires. “If it’s not in the States, it doesn’t exist to you people. Broaden your horizons a little.”

Buffy is stunned, questioning why Faith is here, instead of London, but Faith isn’t alone. She tells Buffy she flew first class, and points to her right. Kennedy and another two Slayers, one of them Buffy recognises as Leah, her former lieutenant from Scotland, come bounding to Faith’s side. The Slayers race forward, stakes in hand and battle ready.

Kennedy orders Leah and the other Slayer, Holly, to engage the creatures. They have grenades.

Willow hears the voice and looks up, smile on her face which promptly becomes a look of squeamish nerves. “Kennedy? This is great! And also awkward.”

“Apricato!”

The Latin surprises Willow and takes her mind straight from Kennedy to the magic. “Who’s casting spells?” she asks, looking around. Buffy also notices the sounds, and looks over at a young boy, wielding magical energy with his hands. Buffy turns to Faith, enraged.

“What the what? Faith! I don’t care if he knows magic, you can’t bring a kid here!”

Willow also points out that spells don’t need dead languages to be cast anymore, sounding rather peeved.

The young boy turns to face them now, glasses on his face, smiling.

“I’m sure that’s lovely for those of you who never bothered to master the correct pronunciation… despite my best efforts. But as long as I know Latin, I’ll use it, thank you very much.” He turns and goes back to fighting the creature he was dispatching, energy sparking around him.

Willow looks at him. “Oh my God. Giles?”

Buffy turns at the word, takes in the boy again. “Giles?” she whispers, under her breath.

The young boy turns to Buffy and Willow, his vampire now scattered to the wind. He places his glasses firmly on his face and smiles at them both.

“Hello.”

Suddenly motivated, Buffy swings the Scythe. She doesn’t think as she goes, she just acts. There’s no conscious strategy or plan, she just moves, taking out everything between her and the young boy.

She takes out one, then another. Giles takes out another and turns, racing forward.

Running, as fast as he can, across the seemingly unending parking lot.

Buffy is running just as quick, every step releasing more tears from her face. The sight of her crying makes Giles weep.

They finally reach each other and wrap their arms around the other, letting the tears flow. Buffy lets all the emotion spill out, soaking Giles jacket, while his glasses fog up almost instantly.

They don’t move for a full minute. No one says anything. Faith and Kennedy are still battling, still keeping their targets away from the store front and the Scooby Gang.

Buffy steps back, takes Giles in. “It’s really you. You’re so… little.”

He rolls his eyes and tuts. “Angel, Faith, rather long story.”

It’s now Faith’s turn to yell in annoyance: “And in case you hadn’t noticed, we got other problems!” She kicks a vampire out of her way as she speaks.

Buffy grins, clutching her Scythe. She and Giles join Faith and the others, defending the store front. She looks at Faith, down to Giles and up to a floating Willow. “Yeah,” she says, her faith in her friends restored.

She takes in the vampires still approaching them. “Sucks to be them,” she grins, and swings the ancient weapon in her hands…