FIC; Return (10/10)

Hey gang, thanks for hanging out in this little corner of my mind. The final chapter is upon us, and I'd like to thank Mad-Hamlet once more for this kick-ass epilogue he provided for me. Props to the Melencholy Dane!

Joss owns them, and after "The Gift", we must trust that he knows what he?s doing. Oh, and the sharp-eyed among you may recognize characters owned by DC Comics, and created by Neil Gaiman.

This is my alternate take on how things go after the season five cliffhanger from Hell. Spoilers for "The Gift". Duh. Shout out to Mad-Hamlet for advice, inspiration, and one kick-ass epilogue.

"Yes!" Willow shouted triumphantly as she sat at her computer at the Magic Box. "Buffy Summers is alive and well!"

"We know that," Tara smiled as she leaned forward on Willow?s shoulders. "Remember, that situation with Riley Finn last month? We?ve been celebrating her return ever since."

"Funny, babe," Willow stuck her tongue out at her lover. "I meant in the legal sense." She showed Tara the screen. "I just hacked into public records, and changed her legal status so she?s no longer dead. Erased all her death certificates, her autopsy report, all that. I also located her birth certificate, and arranged for a notarized copy to be mailed to her house soshe can apply for a driver?s license, and I even had the title deed for her home signed over to her."

"Not a perfect hacking job, I?m afraid," Willow admitted. "I wasn?t able to rescue her bank account, or the trust fund her mom set up for her. All that money went over to Dawn?s trust fund when Buffy was first declared dead."

"Hey, she?ll be okay," Tara assured Willow. "And with you moving into her house once college starts up, you?ll be able to help out."

"Yeah," Willow smirked slightly. "Practically had to twist her arm to convince her to let me pay rent, but she still needs the money. At least until she can get a job. But she?ll be okay."

"Speaking of which," Tara heard the door-chimes jangle as the shop?s front door was opened, and noticed Buffy and Dawn as they entered the shop. They seemed to be arguing about something.

Willow and Tara left the backroom to greet their friends. "Hey Buff, Dawnie, what?s up?"

"Buffy made me watch the most disgusting movie I ever saw," Dawn complained dramatically.

"It?s called ?Harold and Maude?," Buffy explained, "and it wasn?t disgusting at all. It was one of Mom?s favorites and we still had the video, so I decided to check it out."

"Harold and Maude?" Tara smiled. "I loved that movie. Remember, Willow, we saw that at the revival house in San Francisco just before we started our sophomore classes."

"Yeah, with Ruth Gordon as the kindly old woman who taught that kid about life," Willow continued.

Dawn just looked at the other two women with shock in her eyes. "Are you kidding? The movie had an eighteen-year-old boy having sex with an eighty-year-old woman!"

Buffy shook her head, amused at her sister?s overreaction. "Dawn, the movie wasn?t about that. It was about how Ruth Gordon taught the boy to shake off his obsession with death and embrace life."

"Hey," Buffy reminded her sister, "you didn?t object to that one moviewhere the guy had sex with a pie!"

"That was different," Dawn amended hastily, as Tara and Willow started to giggle. "That was just dumb comedy. And say, now that I think about it, don?t you think that Michelle in that movie looks an awful lot like?"

"Uh, Buffy," Willow squeaked, hoping to deflect Dawn?s interest. "You wanna check this out?" She took Buffy and Dawn into the back room and directed their attention to the computer. "I?ve been going into hacker mode here, and managed to legally resurrect you. Now you can get a driver?s license, and you nowown your house." Buffy sat at the computer and perused the records that Willow had edited. She still didn?t understand half of what she saw on the screen, but took Willow?s assurances at face value.

"Thanks, Tara," Buffy replied. "But I want to get a job on my own. Still, the Box can be my plan B." She stood up from her seat at the computer, and announced, "Hey girls, can you close up for lunch or something? I?ve got something to show you."

"Sure," Tara smiled. She and Willow joined Buffy and Dawn, Tara taking the time to set up the ?Closed, back in 30 minutes? sign in the window and locking the door.

The cemetery wasn?t quite where Willow envisioned herself at the moment, but Buffy seemed genuinely pleased about something here. Willow was especially curious as to why Buffy had chosen to lug a portable CD player with her.

They stopped at an all-too-familiar stone. Buffy glanced at the stone?s inscription, fighting back the shudder of seeing her own name engraved on the stone. "She saved the world a lot," she read the epitaph, a sardonic smile on her face. "Let me guess, Wills, your idea?"

"Hey, short and sweet, I like it," Buffy assured her friend with a smile. "Anyway, it?ll be going down tomorrow. I spoke with the funeral director,and he agreed to remove the empty coffin and the stone." She glanced at her mother?s stone, which stood alongside her own. "I?m thinking of planting a tree here. Maybe something in a nice shade tree. I think mom would like that."

"Yeah," Buffy mused silently. "Well, anyway, before they come in to remove the grave, I wanted to do something, and this is my only chance." She placed the CD player on the ground by the gravesite, and pressed play. She turned to the others, smiled, extended her arms, and said, "Let?s dance!"

Willow and Tara exchanged puzzled looks at first, but as Buffy took Dawnin her arms and began dancing with abandon over her own grave, they began to understand. Buffy, in this strange way, was reaffirming her life. Willow took Tara?s hand, and they joined Buffy and Dawn on the small plot of land, dancing together.

Let's enjoy it while we can
Won't you help me sing my song
From the dark end of the street
To the bright side of the road

Buffy glanced briefly at her friends, as they enjoyed each other?s company and closeness. She knew that in a few days Tara would begin her classes at Berkeley College and Willow would miss her while she was gone. And soon Buffy would have to start Slaying again. And life, whatever it was in the Hellmouth, would go on.

But now she had a fuller understanding about her life. About life in general. Death may have been her gift before, but death, in the end, was a part of her greater gift. Life was her gift now. She would gladly give it in protectionof her friends if it came to that. But until then, she intended to share that gift with her friends, and not shut herself off from them.

Buffy, for the first time in such a long time, was truly alive. And she intended to stay that way, no matter what the world threw at her.

With a sigh Glory pulled herself to a seating position. She began brushing off what dirt and grime she could but wasn?t having a lot of luck.

"Super strength, speed, toughness?sure but can I get dirt out? Feh, not a chance." She kept brushing ineffectively at the mud and grass. "This outfitis a total loss." She moaned. "But hey! That means I can get another. Yeah, that?s cool."

"Just...as soon as I find a mall." She looked around, only then realizing she was not alone.

The one to her left looked like a scarecrow. In fact he was a scarecrow. Dressed in banged up overalls, a flannel shirt and heavy boots. His hands were sticks tied together with unraveling twine, and his head...his head was a pumpkin. He was also smoking a cigar and leering at her. How a pumpkin would leer remains a mystery but it was a leer. From a pumpkin. Smoking a cigar.

The one to her right looked far more normal. Other than the white hair, pale skin, and sunglasses. A black t-shirt was stretched over a well muscled, but slim, frame. His blue jeans were spotless ending just above the ankle, revealing the bottoms of black, steel tipped cowboy boots.

His white hair was pulled into a ponytail that hung down to the small ofhis back while the sunglasses completely concealed his eyes. He wasn?t looking at her though, just scuffling the toe of one boot into the earth, smoking a cigarette.

He was dressed similar to the white haired one. Gray t-shirt, gray jeans. Clean, if a little rumbled. However that was where any semblance of normalcy ended. He had white skin and jet black hair. Jet black, spiky hair that went every direction. That was fair enough though, it was his eyes that separated him from the rest, the wheat from the chaff. Old, black eyes stared down into hers. Perfect obsidian in every way except at their very center where a small speck of light did shine.

He also possessed a sense of majesty, of time immeasurable about him. Yes, this was definitely the leader.

?Suits me.? Glory thought. ?Saves me the trouble of tracking this gomer down before I kill him and take over.?

"Great, you know my name." Glory said standing up, she brushed her kneesoff, examining a run in her left stocking.

"Come again?" Glory cocked an eyebrow. ?News-flash bud, I?m a God. AHellgod to be precise. Y?know?God. Immortal, undying, eternal. No beginning no ending. Hello? Any of this mean anything to you bright eyes? And I mean that in the literal sense."

A small smile graced his lips. "Yes. Yes these are all true as you say, but I did create you."

"Yeah?sure, whatever. Look, can we get to the killing now? Cause if I?m gonna take over?y?know...schedules etc. C?mon, chop chop." She tapped her wrist where most people wore a watch.

"Remember what?" Glory sneered. "Lets see. I recall?that I?m a Hellgod. I like to kill, torture, punish, burn and?Oh yes, chew with my mouth open."

The pumpkin spoke. He had a gravelly coarse voice. "Sure we got the right one boss?" He spit the end of his cigar out.

The black haired man referred to as ?boss? put a finger to him temple. "Yes...yes I?m sure, Merv. Still..." He turned his gaze back to Glory.

"You misunderstand." He said calmly. "This is the land of Dreams. The Dreaming. I am its Lord. This is the place where Gods are born." He paused."And where they come to die."

"Die?" Glory?s eyes bulged. "Gods can?t die. It?s part of the job description. Though I like the part about killing and maiming more."

"Perhaps and perhaps not." Dream replied. "But this is where you are. You have forgotten your place Glory. I will explain. I created you. Long ago, you were a Nightmare; then the humans began to believe in you. This gave you power and I stepped aside allowing you to have your place and time. It is done now, and you can take back your original calling."

"Huh? What?" Glory looked up from examining her nails. "Do any of you guys got a press-on kit?"

"You must remember your duties Glorificus." Dream man said. "You will need to be retrained. My...assistant here?" And he gestured to the white haired man. "...Shall instruct you."

"Great!" Glory chuckled. "I?ll kill him first, then you, take over andhave a little fun till I can get back to that SlayBitch!"

So saying she flung herself, hands outstretched at the white haired man, intent on shoving her fingers into his temples and feasting on his mind.

Her scream of agony surprised no one there and was swallowed up by the mists surrounding the small party. Sinking to her knees, Glory pulled the mangledruin of her left hand to her breast. Red blood streamed down over the stubs of two fingers that had been severed, along her forearm to pool in the dark grass, staining a small, but growing circle, to that of a bright crimson.

The white haired man bent down and retrieved his sunglasses that had been knocked off in the impromptu scuffle. He smiled at her while brushing them off, almost white lips pulling back over even whiter teeth. Then he smiled at her with his eyes. Not like others, he did it literally for he had no actual eyeballs, but where they were supposed to be, he had teeth.

He slipped the sunglasses back on and carefully whipped a bloodstain offhis cheek with the back of one hand.

"Yes." Dream said in a neutral tone. "The Corinthian, he is one of my more...fervent creations." He turned his gaze from the sobbing woman to the Corinthian. "Train her well, prepare for her duties but do not kill or cripple her. She is to again be a nightmare, not destroyed. Do you understand?"

The Corinthian gave a flourished bow. "Oh yes, lord of the Dreaming." Everyone ignored his growled "Ponce." They?d heard it before.

The Corinthian knelt down next to Glory. "Let me see that toots. C?mon, I won?t hurt you?yet." He pulled the injured limb so he could get a closer ?look? at it. "Aww?thass nothing babe. You?ll be fine in a jiffy. Still, I?ll kiss it and make it all better."

"Couldn?t help myself." He grinned. "Yer just so tasty!" He licked thestumps one last time before standing back up.

"You were toots." The pumpkin smiled poking in her direction with his stogie. "Now yer a nightmare, a dream, again. Relax, it?ll be fun, you?ll get into it."

The Corinthian nudged her with the toe of his right boot. "After yer... ?trainin? of course."
He was still smiling.

He stood back up. "Now missy, I like you. You got attitude. You got...gumption?you got...chutzpah."

The pumpkin grinned around hiscigar. "Chutzpah?"

The Corinthian ignored him. "So?cause I like ya, and you did give me a feedin?, I?ll give you ...a ten second head start."

Hiding his face in his hands the Corinthian began to count; "One Mississippi, two Mississippi..."

Choking down another sob, Glory lurched to her feet, kicked off her high heels and made a break for the cover of the nearby woods that had not been there a second ago.

"Corinthian." Dream said quietly, the white haired man didn?t stop counting. "Make sure she does not, nor you, enter Fiddler?s Green. He does not likeothers walking, or running, upon him."

"...Ten Mississippi! Ready or not here I come!" With a whoop and a leap he disappeared into the tree line.

Dream watched all this, saying nothing, though Merv had a running commentary with a stray daydream that had wandered by.

"Nowadays, anyone with a henna tattoo and a spice rack thinks they're a sister to the dark ones."
--Willow, "Hush"