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WIP Amnesty, Day 2, Part 1
This is a pretty scraggly bunch of flowers on a neglected grave, and that's about all I can say for it.
Sequel to Counting the Days. Angel/Spike, Dawn. NC-17.
14,192 words of what probably would have wound up being 50,000.
Happy families are all alike;
every unhappy family
is unhappy in its own way.
Xander raised his head from the pillow when a small, inquisitive hand made its way up his back and over his shoulder: Anya, checking whether he was still awake. He twisted to peer back at her, curled up and looking almost asleep herself. “What is it, An?”
He couldn’t read her eyes in the dark, but her voice was soft and sleepy. “I was just thinking about the things you said to Dawn.”
Xander winced, thinking of his ‘disinvitation’ from the Summers home, and Dawn’s order that he apologize, to Spike of all people, before she’d lift it. He laid his head back down, exhausted just at the thought. After an entire weekend worrying, capping it with tonight’s hours of fruitless patrolling and then a fight with Dawn had been beyond enough. He wanted to sleep for a week. “I really don’t want to talk about it right now, baby.”
The little hand petted him and then withdrew as Anya snuggled down to sleep against his back. “Good. Neither do I.”
***
Dawn frowned, and held out the phone. “Spike? It’s for you.”
And not a voice she recognized, or she would’ve said. Spike took the phone. “Yeah?”
“Tell me you have a plan, Spike.”
Wesley, who must have disguised his voice from Dawn to keep this conversation the absolute secret it ought to be. Dawn still stood a bare arm’s length away, watching curiously and no doubt listening with all her might for what the voice on the other end might say. Spike turned away from her, lowering his voice to a hiss. “You call me here about this? When *she’s* here?”
“I thought it might tend to drive the point home.”
Spike snorted at the Watcher’s turn of phrase and turned back to Dawn, placing the phone against his shoulder. “Pet, I need you not to hear this conversation, understand? No standing here, no listening in on the extension, nothing.” He hoped the serious tone would persuade her to just go along without being missish, but he was willing to throw in a ‘please’ if it would get them through this faster.
She wasn’t thrilled, but she wasn’t digging in her heels, either. Her brows wrinkled as she tried to work out the who and the why of it, but after a moment in which they just stood there, looking at each other, she nodded firmly. “I’ve got homework. Let me know when you’re done, I need to call Janice.”
Spike nodded, and didn’t move the phone back to his ear until he was certain that Dawn was in her room, door closed and music turned up.
“All right,” Spike said.
“Just tell me you have a plan,” Wesley repeated. “Tell me you’re not going to bring Dawn here and do what Cordelia tells me you’re going to do, without some kind of plan.”
Spike bit back the answer he’d been going to give. “She see something?”
“Only in the ordinary sense, or I assure you we’d be having a very different conversation.”
“It’s not going to happen. I don’t.” Spike drew a breath, trying to sound as dispassionate as he wasn’t. “He doesn’t like me that much.”
“Are you willing to risk Dawn’s life on his indifference to you?”
Spike stared at the wall. *Didn’t say he was indifferent.* He did have a plan, as it happened, but that didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it. Or think about it. He’d spent the past three days having nightmares about it, there was no need for it to spill over into his peaceful nights with Dawn. “Where is he, right now?”
“At the hotel. I just spoke to Cordelia, she’s there with him and he’s not going anywhere. I’m at my apartment, calling from a land line. I tried to think of a way to get up there and speak to you in person, but it would have drawn attention.”
Spike nodded. Angel must not be allowed to have the least suspicion; if it came down, he’d be in no position to resist sharing any information he had, and merely knowing they had spoken could easily damn them both, and their plans along with them. “If he has any idea, he’ll be working with us.”
“I know.” Wesley sounded tired. “Your plan, Spike? Please. You could say I have a professional interest.”
A grin twisted Spike’s mouth without making itself felt anywhere else. “Funny how no one ever retires from the trying-not-to-be-killed-by-a-psychopath business, always just keep on til they die in the traces.”
Wesley kept silent, waiting Spike out.
He sighed, defeated, and fought down the queasy sense of betrayal that seized him as he spoke. “He’ll know, right before, that it’s happening, and he’ll be disoriented, right after. I should have a good ninety seconds of advantage. I’ll break his neck. Won’t kill him, but he’ll be paralyzed for hours at least, long enough to restrain him any way you like.”
“And if you miss your ninety seconds?”
“He’s going to want to kill me, first thing, no matter how good the shag was–-I betrayed him to the Slayer, last time, and he’ll not have forgotten. I’ll keep him focused on me, get him to fight. Neither of us going for the quick kill, we could go for hours.” Plenty of time for them to get Dawn and Fred and Cordelia away somewhere safe. There would be plenty of time.
Wesley stayed quiet, and Spike clenched his eyes shut, trying to eradicate the nightmare images, vivid as life because he had lived them, from his mind. “Your turn now. Tell me you have a plan.”
“I have a plan. You understand I can’t share details.”
“Too right. You’ve got backups, though? Contingencies?”
“In this, you’ll find I’m a belt, braces, and safety pins man.”
“Good.” Spike opened his eyes wide and stared at the empty peace of the living room, trying to impress it upon his seething mind. “Good.”
“I only wanted to be sure that you understood, that your plan need not be a... long-term solution.”
“And make sure I’m not a complete idiot, yeah?”
“You’ve survived this far, Spike. I already knew you weren’t an idiot.”
A breath of something like real laughter escaped Spike, and he hung up the phone. *I wouldn’t bet on that.*
***
Dawn looked up when the bell dinged, and her heart did a funny little move in her chest. Xander had just walked into the shop, smiling like usual, like he used to smile, before. Like today was just another day in their lives. He caught sight of her sitting at the table, and his smile broadened into a grin, as if he’d forgotten all about her kicking him out of the house. He opened his arms and she hesitated only a second before jumping up and running over to him, burying her face against his shoulder.
He hugged her tight, pressing his face into her hair, and for a moment all she wanted was to just forget about being mad at him. Then she remembered Angel hugging her that night, and saying that he’d be there for her if she needed him even though he was just her sister’s ex-boyfriend, and Xander saying that he’d hurt her, and by the time Xander let her go and she stepped back and looked up at him, the smile on her face was kinda fake.
Xander was looking a little stunned, like her hugging him was some amazing piece of good luck. “Is everything okay, Dawn?”
And she remembered the way Spike had folded and said he would leave, and she couldn’t resist. “Everything’s fine, Xander.” And as soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to call them back, because *nothing* was fine, and nothing was ever going to be fine again. “I mean–-y’know.”
She felt cold now, a little, not being hugged and not angry enough to keep herself warm. It was just that Xander couldn’t win this. “But yeah, everything’s fine.”
Xander nodded, his smile sadder now, and Dawn went back to the table where she’d been doing her homework. If Xander was here, it must be after-work time, dinner time. They ought to get home. “I mean,” she said, as Xander sat down, “you’re still not allowed in the house until you apologize. You were out of line, and I’m not going to put up with that.” There. Way better than screaming or crying or refusing to talk to him. When she stole a glance up from packing her homework into her bag, Xander’s mouth was moving, like she’d just sucker-punched him. She felt something cold shiver down her spine at the sight, and went back to putting her pens in the right pockets.
“Dawn,” he said, and his voice sounded strangled. She looked up, biting her lip, praying he would just give in already. “I’m sorry.” That was all he said, no promises to take it back, no admission that he was wrong. *He said bad stuff about Spike,* she reminded herself, *He said bad stuff about Angel. He’d keep you from going back if he could*.
She finished closing up her bag. “When you apologize to Spike,” she said, pulling out the no-nonsense voice her Mom had used to arbitrate her fights with Buffy, *don’t think about it, don’t think, don’t think,* “then we’ll talk.” *I am angry.* Angry at Xander, and that was all.
Dawn turned away from the table and looked up the stairs into the book loft. “Willow?”
Willow’s head popped up, guilty look in place. Dawn wondered for a second if she’d been eavesdropping and then realized she didn’t have to; they were in the middle of the shop. It didn’t look like Anya, concentrating on her cash register, or Giles, who seemed to be sleeping with his eyes open, had noticed her and Xander’s chat, but Willow must have heard all of it. “Coming, Dawnie.”
Willow hurried down the stairs, arms full of books, and Dawn noticed the apologetic look she shot Xander. Willow had tried to talk her out of this, of course, but in the end Dawn had stuck to her guns. It was her house. She didn’t have to let Xander in if she didn’t want to. Then Dawn turned away. “Bye, Anya.” Anya looked up, and gave her a short smile, distracted but not unfriendly, and nodded. Dawn walked over to the corner where Giles was sitting, by the bookshelves. “Bye, Giles.”
He startled like she’d woken him up, glancing down at the book in his lap and up at her like he couldn’t figure out where either of them had come from. “Dawn,” he said softly, his face settling back to a tired smile. “You’re headed home?”
She nodded. “See you tomorrow.” Willow was already standing at the door, and Dawn followed. As they stepped outside, she smiled. Xander had apologized to her. He was going to cave. She couldn’t wait to tell Spike.
***
Anya finished up behind the counter and came over to sit by him at the table, where he was still staring into space, reeling. And then she did what Xander had been expecting, in the back of his mind, ever since he’d turned back from the fridge to see her standing naked in his basement.
She said, “Xander, I’ve changed my mind.”
His mind went completely blank, his heart racing and his life flashing, black and sparkly and blurry, before his eyes. He heard himself say, in a way that sounded like he was grinning and taking this all in stride, one more weird Anya-utterance, “What about?”
“I know I said I didn’t want to talk about what you said to Dawn. But I’ve changed my mind.”
The hyperventilated breath left him in something like a laugh, or possibly a sob. He put one hand to his face to check that it was still responding, and said, “Oh. All right.”
“Because when you said you didn’t want to talk about it, and I said I didn’t either, I assumed that meant that we would both be thinking about it, even if we didn’t actually talk about it.”
“Trust me, An, I’ve been thinking about it.” He’d been thinking about little else. What, exactly, was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to apologize for? Was he supposed to be delighted that a vulnerable little girl was spending all kinds of unsupervised time with two demons who, even if they were unlikely to physically harm her, could screw with her in lots of other ways? Was he supposed to tell Dawn, Hey, yeah, take off for LA whenever you feel like it, and no, it’s not necessary to check in, we don’t mind. Y’know, the whole thing where my best friend died so you could live? It’ll make an ironic little story to share with the other mourners at the funeral if you get prematurely dead because we didn’t take care of you in her absence. He wanted to say, Buffy will kill me if you’re not here, safe, waiting for her when she gets back, but that part was supposed to be a secret, so he couldn’t use it.
Anya looked down at the table. “So you know what you’re going to say to Spike?”
Xander blinked. “Spike?”
“Spike. You’re supposed to apologize to him, remember?”
“Yeah, I know, but... why do you care what I say to Spike?”
Anya looked at him, for the first time since he’d known her, like he was stupid. “Xander, do you remember what you said, that Dawn wants you to apologize for?”
He blinked. He’d been angry, scared for her and furious that she’d turned to Spike, and Angel, instead of one of her real friends. He’d mentally rehearsed a lot of screaming fits in the two days they’d spent waiting for her to come home, but the actual fight was a sort of miserable blur in his mind. “In general.”
She folded her arms. “Well, let’s just say we unwillingly reformed serial murderers have to stick up for each other.”
Xander’s jaw dropped. “Anya–-”
“Trust me, Angel and Spike combined have got nothing on my body count.” She tilted her head. “Is that why you’ve never left Dawn alone with me?”
“No!” And part of his brain immediately started trying to come up with a counterexample, when Dawn had been alone with Anya, but that was so not the point here. “Anya, no, you’re nothing like them, I know that.”
“No, Xander, that’s where you’re wrong.” She stood up, turned away. “I’m exactly like them.” One slender shoulder lifted in a stiff half-shrug. “Oh, I suppose I didn’t kill women and children, or anyone really, with my own hands the way they did, but I certainly caused deaths every bit as cruel and senseless, and took just as much delight in it. Really, if you think about it, at least they chose their victims personally, instead of just sacrificing entire villages to collateral damage. Angel was cursed with a soul, Spike was chipped, my power center was destroyed.” She turned back to face him. “None of us had a moment of clarity and just decided to stop hurting people.”
“Anya, I didn’t mean–-” and it was probably for the best that she didn’t let him finish that sentence, because he wasn’t sure what he was going to say next, or whether it would make any sense.
“You were saying what you felt, when you said that she would get hurt being with demons, that they couldn’t be trusted because of what they’ve done in the past. You were scared for her because she was with Spike and Angel all weekend. You were too scared to be nice like you normally are. But Dawn is at least as safe with Spike as you are with me. So for days now, I’ve been wondering...” She bit her lip. “Are you scared for yourself, when you’re with me?”
“I...” but she was done interrupting, and just stood there, watching him. “An, I’m not afraid of you.” He expected her to say something to that, but she just went on standing there, watching him. “I...” His mind ought to be racing, he knew, assembling words to sway her, to make her understand how it was different, but he felt like all his synapses had been flooded with molasses. “I love you,” he whispered. “That makes it different.”
She seemed to take pity on him, and came and sat down again. “Well, I bet Dawn thinks it’s different, too.”
Xander reached out a shaking hand to Anya’s, where she didn’t wear the ring he’d given her, even though he saw her try it on every night and every morning, because he hadn’t yet found the right moment to announce it to his friends. “Are we... Anya, tell me we’re still...”
She stayed silent just long enough for Xander to wish that the world really had ended before it could come to this, and then she said quietly, “I’m not breaking our engagement, Xander. But just because I’m not saying something, that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about it.”
***
Spike sat on the front porch steps, smoking and waiting. Dawn had triumphantly informed him of Xander’s apology as soon as she saw him, and in the face of her youthful self-righteousness, he’d said nothing. Even if it reminded him of some of her sister’s excessively-sainted moments, he couldn’t quite bring himself to wipe a smile off her face.
Still, there were limits, so Dawn was inside, humoring him by pretending to do her homework, and he was sitting out here, in the illusory privacy of the dim porch, waiting.
He didn’t think he’d have to wait long, now that the boy had cracked and apologized to Dawn. In truth, Spike was surprised he’d held out as long as he had. He had no illusions that Xander would actually have any interest in apologizing to him as Dawn had demanded, but the Scoobies were ferociously close to each other. Spike would have expected any one of them to gnaw off a limb in order to heal such a rift, without taking four days to think about it first. He stared at his cigarette, and considered that maybe that just meant Xander would rather lose a leg than apologize to him. Not impossible.
But if Spike’s ears didn’t deceive him, the boy was headed up the sidewalk in his direction right now, both feet still attached and in working order. Spike tossed the cigarette away, settled into a comfortable sprawl on the steps, and braced invisibly for the confrontation to come.
The boy came around the corner up the walk, looking a bit more like a kicked puppy than usual, which likely meant he wasn’t just here because Dawn had finally twisted him up into a satisfactory number of knots. No matter. As long as he didn’t come out swinging, Spike could manage this. Xander stopped a couple of strides short of the steps, so that they were roughly on eye-level, looked down, ran a hand over his hair. Raised his head and opened his mouth to speak, and Spike figured that was carrying the thing just about far enough. The gesture was made. Just because the boy had rolled over and shown his throat didn’t mean Spike had to try to take a bite.
“Apology accepted,” Spike said firmly, to be sure of stopping whatever words were about to bubble out of Xander’s mouth.
Dark-eyed blink, mouth working for a moment, like he could take in the sense of Spike’s words along with the air he was breathing. “What?”
Spike rolled his eyes. No reason to let the boy know his dignity was being spared if he didn’t have to. “You don’t like me, I don’t have a lot of use for you, but Dawn wants us both around, so we’ll try not to kill each other for her sake, right? No need to have a bloody Hallmark moment just to please her.”
Xander’s gaze flickered from Spike to the house. “Dawn...”
Spike sighed, and sat forward a bit, confidentially. “She’s still young enough to get a thrill out of making grownups dance to her tune. Doesn’t mean to be...” He cast about for a word that wasn’t ‘cruel,’ a word that wouldn’t call to mind just how well he understood being one-upped by a little girl. “She’s just thoughtless.”
Xander grimaced. “I guess she’s earned the right.”
Spike shrugged, not going to stop the boy kicking himself if he was that determined, and stood. “I’ll go get her, anyway, let her know you’re all reconciled.”
Xander nodded, stepping hesitantly closer, up onto the bottom step as Spike reached the porch and headed toward the front door.
A low voice, meant for his ears alone but still determined
to speak, stopped him. “Spike.” He turned back, meeting the steady eyes of a boy who was maybe just a little more grown up than he’d been thinking. “I just wanted to say, I know you’d never hurt her.”
Spike’s lips twisted into a less-than-vicious smirk. “Yeah. I can tell by the way you haven’t tried to stake me yet.”
Xander opened his mouth to shoot back a retort to what he must believe was sarcasm, but Spike cut him off. “I mean it, Harris.” He looked down, keeping his eyes trained on the scuffed toes of his boots as he spoke. “I know how it is. You’re not the alpha male of your little group, but you still get things done. If you’d thought I was really a danger to Dawn, you...” Oh, never going to buff his ego that much, “wouldn’t have wasted time arguing. I get that.”
He didn’t look up, and headed into the house before Xander could reply.
***
Dawn was sitting on her bed, sorting through a pile of folded-up notes that had accumulated in her bag over the past couple of weeks, deciding which to keep and which to throw away, when Spike appeared in the doorway. She smiled. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he replied, but he seemed distracted. “Look, me and your Scooby pal kissed and made up, so you should let him back in the house now.”
Dawn grinned and stood. Xander had caved! Spike wasn’t looking quite as vindicated as she felt, though.
“Dawn,” he said, slowly, in a way that made her sit down on the bed again. He kept his eyes fixed on the doorjamb, running his fingers along the trim as he spoke. “I should’ve said this sooner, but. You do understand that he’s your family now? All of them, but he’s a part of it. And you shouldn’t treat family like that.”
Dawn looked down, not quite willing to admit she understood what he was saying. Buffy was family, and her mom. “I don’t have a family anymore, except for Mom’s sister in Illinois.” Aunt Arlene, Uncle Gary, and Cousin Veronica, and boy was she glad they lived in Illinois.
Spike sighed. “No, pet, you do. You got Red, and Tara, and Rupert, and Xander, maybe even Anya if they’re that serious about each other. Don’t you remember that business with Tara? That wasn’t just about her, you know. You’re all family to each other.” Dawn looked up at Spike, who still wasn’t looking at her. But not you. You said you didn’t care. Dawn bit her lip, hard, but held still, trying not to give herself away. Of course Spike cared. Didn’t he?
“You got the same kind of family I have,” he said, softly. Dawn frowned at that. She remembered what he’d said, but there was nothing especially eternal about her sister’s friends who still felt some obligation to look after her. And anyway Buffy was gone and it was Buffy who had been the center, Buffy who had held them all together...
Spike looked a little frustrated when he met her eyes, like she ought to understand this already. “The kind of family that chose each other,” he said quietly. “We do it with blood, humans do it with words, call each other friends mostly, but they’re family to you, Dawn. They wouldn’t still be around if they weren’t, and that’s something real. And you need them.”
*I need you. You’re the strong one, you’re the one who can help me, you’re the one who won’t go away.* But Dawn wouldn’t argue, not with Spike, wouldn’t beg him to say he’d chosen her. Not now. *You won’t go away, will you?*
He shrugged, his frustration gone in an instant. He smiled briefly at her, eyes crinkling, and it was easy to smile a little back, to pretend she believed him and nothing was wrong, that she didn’t really need him any more than he needed her. “Course you’ve got it easy. Whatever you say when you go downstairs and see him, both of you’ll only be remembering it every time you see each other for the next sixty years or so. Being mortal’s handy that way.”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “All right, Spike, I get it.” And, okay, maybe she could admit, privately, just to herself, that being mad at Xander hadn’t been any more fun than having him mad at her. It had just lasted longer. She stood up again, and slipped past Spike, headed for the stairs. At the top, she remembered something and turned back to Spike, who had followed her. “Um, when you said...”
Spike rolled his eyes. “No. Of course not.”
Dawn nodded. Because if they’d actually kissed and made up, she... wouldn’t have wanted to miss it. Wouldn’t have wanted to miss videotaping it, actually, and blackmailing them both until the end of time, or until her head exploded with the weirdness of it, whichever came first.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Xander was standing just outside on the porch, like he really couldn’t get inside until she said it was all right. Dawn just smiled. “Come on in, Xan.”
He stepped inside with a relieved grin, and Spike patted her on the head as he came down the stairs and slipped past her. “You mind staying a bit, Harris? I need to go kill something.”
Xander looked surprised by that, but nodded. Dawn knew, because Willow told her about it, that patrol had been quiet the last few weeks. Which meant Spike needed to go kill something recreationally, which probably meant he was pissed--no, he’d taught her the word–-*narked* about something. Dawn winced a little. She hadn’t thought about whether Spike would want to be apologized to.
When he turned back to see if she minded being left with Xander, she smiled. “We’re cool. Probably won’t save you any pizza, though.”
He shook his head, but gave her a little smile before taking off, and Xander just said, “Ooh, pizza? I knew I picked the right night to come over here.”
***
Spike scowled as he stalked his prey through the graveyard. “And then! Today! I was nice to the boy. Nice. Bad enough I spend days asking myself what would please this one or that one, now I’m being nice.”
The idiot fledge, limping and stumbling from the fun Spike had already begun to have, called back, “Well, it’s just another way of making the girl and your Sire happy, right? No different from the rest.”
Spike darted up quickly and bounced the fledge’s head off a tombstone, grappling one handed for a moment before allowing it to throw him off and scramble away. “Hardly the point, is it? Because now there’s this other human, not my girl, just some stupid git she happens to think the world of, who’s looking at me like I’m just a sweet little kitty cat underneath my prickly exterior.”
Spike didn’t know what the right response would’ve been, but he doubted the fledge would have come up with it, and didn’t give it the chance. He launched himself at the pathetic little figure, planted one booted foot on its right arm, and yanked up on the uselessly grasping hand, neatly breaking both bones of the forearm. The fledge bucked and howled in pain, and Spike rolled his eyes. “Somebody wasn’t sired properly.” He backed off, settling onto a headstone and lighting a cigarette while the whiny soon-to-be-dust-bunny got to its feet and staggered about a bit, looking confused.
“I’m sure it... doesn’t mean anything,” the fledge offered, in a tone that Spike suspected was an attempt at wheedling. It was coming out pretty terrified. “Clearly you’re as bad as ever.”
Spike snorted. “You mean that? Really?”
The fledge nodded eagerly.
“So, then, if I’m so bad...” Spike stood, and slunk over to the fledge, smoothed its rumpled hair as it tried hard not to flinch away. “You won’t be surprised that I lied about sparing you if you turned out to be a good listener?” Brief stupid expression of shock on a demon face, as Spike reached out and broke its neck with a quick familiar motion. It fell at his feet, paralyzed but not dusted, until Spike flicked down the fag-end into the middle of its chest. It took a moment to catch, and then there was nothing left, not even a tell-tale filter in amongst the ash.
Spike laughed, standing alone. “Can’t even litter. Christ, I am a little house cat.” Bloody spicus domesticus. Speaking of which, it was getting on to Dawn’s bedtime.
Three kills would have to do for tonight. They’d been hard to come by–-he’d had to track them down, one by one, in the sewers and crypts where they were lying low. All of them were youngsters too stupid to get out of a town which, between the efforts of a long-resident Slayer and her gang, a government project, and a bitchy hell god, was beginning to have its reputation as prime vampire real estate tarnished. None of them was anything like preparation for what he just might be facing in twenty-four hours’ time, but he hadn’t expected that. There was no preparing for it. The very thought of preparing for it made him want to vomit the expensive human blood he’d been feeding on for the past week all over the neatly-trimmed grass.
But his hands remembered how, even if his brain was trying hard not to, and that was the best he could do. Lighting up the last cigarette in the pack, Spike turned and headed for the house on Revello Drive.
***
Dawn looked dubiously around at the small crowd gathered in the living room. Xander, his arm around Anya holding her practically in his lap, sat on one end of the couch, and Giles was seated comfortably on the other. Willow was perched lightly on the coffee table, like she might jump up at any second, and Tara sat on the floor, one hand on Willow’s knee, just maybe anchoring her to the earth. Spike was leaning on the edge of the fireplace, fidgeting tensely as he stared at the windows, waiting for sunset. Dawn was looking forward to it no less, because as soon as the sun was down, they were leaving for LA, this time with the approval, however grudging, of everyone present. She just had to get through the show-and-tell period first, and persuade them not to change their minds at the last second.
“Okay,” she said, counting off on her fingers, “I’ll call as soon as we get there to let you all know I’m okay and not dead in a ditch or anything. I’ll check in with somebody in Sunnydale, actual voice communication, not just leaving a message, every six to twelve hours thereafter, except between midnight and six a.m., unless it’s an emergency, and,” she frowned, looking from Willow’s intent face to Giles’ faintly amused one, “if I do want to call between twelve and six, I won’t waste time trying to figure out if it’s really an emergency, I’ll just call.”
She glanced down at her bag, then up again. “I have half a pound of assorted change in case I need to use a payphone, and can I just say again how much easier this would be if I had a cell phone like every other person in the state of California over age five,” and that got amusement from Xander and incipient correction from Anya, so Dawn pressed on.
“I have every phone number ever for all of you, plus Willow’s aunt in Valencia who will be happy to help me if I’m in trouble, plus every help line number known to man.”
She poked through her bag, pulled out the much-folded paper to show them. “I have this handy map of LA and environs, with all the churches marked with happy faces and all the graveyards and,” she tilted her head, squinting, really looking at the page for the first time, “um, high-crime districts and, what, major highways?” Willow nodded enthusiastically. “Marked in orange with ‘danger’ written on them.”
Dawn tucked the map back into her overloaded backpack, and pulled out the somewhat cooler parting gift Anya and Xander had given her. “I have my custom-made prototype consecrated attacker-repellant, the holy water pepper spray.”
“You have to try to use it at some point,” Anya said firmly, “and report how effective it is. If it’s really successful, we could arrange for a larger production run and sell it at the shop, maybe even wholesale it to magic shops in other areas, although it might cut into internet sales...”
Spike’s face went tight at that, not angry exactly, but some kind of upset, and Xander looked faintly embarrassed, but Giles’ soft voice beat them to the punch. “I think we’ll all be hoping that Dawn will have no use for the pepper spray.”
Anya shrugged, and Dawn expected her to suggest trying it out on the vamp nearest to hand, but she glanced toward Spike and didn’t say anything. Dawn tucked the bottle–-matte silver with a cross engraved on the front, very sleek–-back into the side pocket of her bag. “Okay, um,” she looked down at her hands, but had no idea where she’d been in counting off. “I’ll listen to Spike, unless I think I shouldn’t, in which case I’ll listen to Angel, unless he seems evil, in which case I’ll listen to Wesley, unless he’s being, um...”
“A prat,” Giles supplied.
Dawn nodded. “In which case I’ll listen to Cordy.” Dubious looks all around on that one. “Or call home for advice.”
Willow nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll be here.”
Dawn managed not to roll her eyes, looking quickly to Tara and seeing with relief that someone else thought this was kind of silly. “You don’t have to sit by the phone all weekend, that’s sort of the point of me being somewhere else: you don’t have to watch me. And if something bad happens here, you’ll call me, right?” She looked to Spike, who’d been patrolling with them ever since Buffy died, and out slaying whatever he could at other times as well, but he looked quickly away. “You’ll call us?”
Xander met her eyes, nodded briefly.
“Okay. So, I guess that’s it.”
“Dark now,” Spike said, by way of agreement, she thought. He’d been doing some sort of Oz impression ever since Xander apologized to him. He emerged from his corner, and took her bag when she held it out to him. He snagged Angel’s coat from the bannister, and headed out the front door as he put it on.
Dawn stared after him for a moment, and then turned back to her friends. Her family, if she believed Spike. Xander was the first to stand, coming over to give her a hug, and then the others quickly followed suit. She pulled on Spike’s coat and buttoned it up. When she looked up, the five of them were just standing there, watching her. Dawn smiled. “Guys, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
She pulled on Buffy’s gloves, gave them all a little wave, and went out after Spike. He was standing by the bike, glaring in the general direction of the sunset just past, but when she reached his side he smiled at her. “All set, then?”
Dawn nodded. “I think I liked this part better the first time. Less... expectation.”
Spike gave a short laugh at that, more than it deserved. “Yeah,” he said, “me too.”
***
On to Part 2
Sequel to Counting the Days. Angel/Spike, Dawn. NC-17.
14,192 words of what probably would have wound up being 50,000.
Happy families are all alike;
every unhappy family
is unhappy in its own way.
Xander raised his head from the pillow when a small, inquisitive hand made its way up his back and over his shoulder: Anya, checking whether he was still awake. He twisted to peer back at her, curled up and looking almost asleep herself. “What is it, An?”
He couldn’t read her eyes in the dark, but her voice was soft and sleepy. “I was just thinking about the things you said to Dawn.”
Xander winced, thinking of his ‘disinvitation’ from the Summers home, and Dawn’s order that he apologize, to Spike of all people, before she’d lift it. He laid his head back down, exhausted just at the thought. After an entire weekend worrying, capping it with tonight’s hours of fruitless patrolling and then a fight with Dawn had been beyond enough. He wanted to sleep for a week. “I really don’t want to talk about it right now, baby.”
The little hand petted him and then withdrew as Anya snuggled down to sleep against his back. “Good. Neither do I.”
***
Dawn frowned, and held out the phone. “Spike? It’s for you.”
And not a voice she recognized, or she would’ve said. Spike took the phone. “Yeah?”
“Tell me you have a plan, Spike.”
Wesley, who must have disguised his voice from Dawn to keep this conversation the absolute secret it ought to be. Dawn still stood a bare arm’s length away, watching curiously and no doubt listening with all her might for what the voice on the other end might say. Spike turned away from her, lowering his voice to a hiss. “You call me here about this? When *she’s* here?”
“I thought it might tend to drive the point home.”
Spike snorted at the Watcher’s turn of phrase and turned back to Dawn, placing the phone against his shoulder. “Pet, I need you not to hear this conversation, understand? No standing here, no listening in on the extension, nothing.” He hoped the serious tone would persuade her to just go along without being missish, but he was willing to throw in a ‘please’ if it would get them through this faster.
She wasn’t thrilled, but she wasn’t digging in her heels, either. Her brows wrinkled as she tried to work out the who and the why of it, but after a moment in which they just stood there, looking at each other, she nodded firmly. “I’ve got homework. Let me know when you’re done, I need to call Janice.”
Spike nodded, and didn’t move the phone back to his ear until he was certain that Dawn was in her room, door closed and music turned up.
“All right,” Spike said.
“Just tell me you have a plan,” Wesley repeated. “Tell me you’re not going to bring Dawn here and do what Cordelia tells me you’re going to do, without some kind of plan.”
Spike bit back the answer he’d been going to give. “She see something?”
“Only in the ordinary sense, or I assure you we’d be having a very different conversation.”
“It’s not going to happen. I don’t.” Spike drew a breath, trying to sound as dispassionate as he wasn’t. “He doesn’t like me that much.”
“Are you willing to risk Dawn’s life on his indifference to you?”
Spike stared at the wall. *Didn’t say he was indifferent.* He did have a plan, as it happened, but that didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it. Or think about it. He’d spent the past three days having nightmares about it, there was no need for it to spill over into his peaceful nights with Dawn. “Where is he, right now?”
“At the hotel. I just spoke to Cordelia, she’s there with him and he’s not going anywhere. I’m at my apartment, calling from a land line. I tried to think of a way to get up there and speak to you in person, but it would have drawn attention.”
Spike nodded. Angel must not be allowed to have the least suspicion; if it came down, he’d be in no position to resist sharing any information he had, and merely knowing they had spoken could easily damn them both, and their plans along with them. “If he has any idea, he’ll be working with us.”
“I know.” Wesley sounded tired. “Your plan, Spike? Please. You could say I have a professional interest.”
A grin twisted Spike’s mouth without making itself felt anywhere else. “Funny how no one ever retires from the trying-not-to-be-killed-by-a-psychopath business, always just keep on til they die in the traces.”
Wesley kept silent, waiting Spike out.
He sighed, defeated, and fought down the queasy sense of betrayal that seized him as he spoke. “He’ll know, right before, that it’s happening, and he’ll be disoriented, right after. I should have a good ninety seconds of advantage. I’ll break his neck. Won’t kill him, but he’ll be paralyzed for hours at least, long enough to restrain him any way you like.”
“And if you miss your ninety seconds?”
“He’s going to want to kill me, first thing, no matter how good the shag was–-I betrayed him to the Slayer, last time, and he’ll not have forgotten. I’ll keep him focused on me, get him to fight. Neither of us going for the quick kill, we could go for hours.” Plenty of time for them to get Dawn and Fred and Cordelia away somewhere safe. There would be plenty of time.
Wesley stayed quiet, and Spike clenched his eyes shut, trying to eradicate the nightmare images, vivid as life because he had lived them, from his mind. “Your turn now. Tell me you have a plan.”
“I have a plan. You understand I can’t share details.”
“Too right. You’ve got backups, though? Contingencies?”
“In this, you’ll find I’m a belt, braces, and safety pins man.”
“Good.” Spike opened his eyes wide and stared at the empty peace of the living room, trying to impress it upon his seething mind. “Good.”
“I only wanted to be sure that you understood, that your plan need not be a... long-term solution.”
“And make sure I’m not a complete idiot, yeah?”
“You’ve survived this far, Spike. I already knew you weren’t an idiot.”
A breath of something like real laughter escaped Spike, and he hung up the phone. *I wouldn’t bet on that.*
***
Dawn looked up when the bell dinged, and her heart did a funny little move in her chest. Xander had just walked into the shop, smiling like usual, like he used to smile, before. Like today was just another day in their lives. He caught sight of her sitting at the table, and his smile broadened into a grin, as if he’d forgotten all about her kicking him out of the house. He opened his arms and she hesitated only a second before jumping up and running over to him, burying her face against his shoulder.
He hugged her tight, pressing his face into her hair, and for a moment all she wanted was to just forget about being mad at him. Then she remembered Angel hugging her that night, and saying that he’d be there for her if she needed him even though he was just her sister’s ex-boyfriend, and Xander saying that he’d hurt her, and by the time Xander let her go and she stepped back and looked up at him, the smile on her face was kinda fake.
Xander was looking a little stunned, like her hugging him was some amazing piece of good luck. “Is everything okay, Dawn?”
And she remembered the way Spike had folded and said he would leave, and she couldn’t resist. “Everything’s fine, Xander.” And as soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to call them back, because *nothing* was fine, and nothing was ever going to be fine again. “I mean–-y’know.”
She felt cold now, a little, not being hugged and not angry enough to keep herself warm. It was just that Xander couldn’t win this. “But yeah, everything’s fine.”
Xander nodded, his smile sadder now, and Dawn went back to the table where she’d been doing her homework. If Xander was here, it must be after-work time, dinner time. They ought to get home. “I mean,” she said, as Xander sat down, “you’re still not allowed in the house until you apologize. You were out of line, and I’m not going to put up with that.” There. Way better than screaming or crying or refusing to talk to him. When she stole a glance up from packing her homework into her bag, Xander’s mouth was moving, like she’d just sucker-punched him. She felt something cold shiver down her spine at the sight, and went back to putting her pens in the right pockets.
“Dawn,” he said, and his voice sounded strangled. She looked up, biting her lip, praying he would just give in already. “I’m sorry.” That was all he said, no promises to take it back, no admission that he was wrong. *He said bad stuff about Spike,* she reminded herself, *He said bad stuff about Angel. He’d keep you from going back if he could*.
She finished closing up her bag. “When you apologize to Spike,” she said, pulling out the no-nonsense voice her Mom had used to arbitrate her fights with Buffy, *don’t think about it, don’t think, don’t think,* “then we’ll talk.” *I am angry.* Angry at Xander, and that was all.
Dawn turned away from the table and looked up the stairs into the book loft. “Willow?”
Willow’s head popped up, guilty look in place. Dawn wondered for a second if she’d been eavesdropping and then realized she didn’t have to; they were in the middle of the shop. It didn’t look like Anya, concentrating on her cash register, or Giles, who seemed to be sleeping with his eyes open, had noticed her and Xander’s chat, but Willow must have heard all of it. “Coming, Dawnie.”
Willow hurried down the stairs, arms full of books, and Dawn noticed the apologetic look she shot Xander. Willow had tried to talk her out of this, of course, but in the end Dawn had stuck to her guns. It was her house. She didn’t have to let Xander in if she didn’t want to. Then Dawn turned away. “Bye, Anya.” Anya looked up, and gave her a short smile, distracted but not unfriendly, and nodded. Dawn walked over to the corner where Giles was sitting, by the bookshelves. “Bye, Giles.”
He startled like she’d woken him up, glancing down at the book in his lap and up at her like he couldn’t figure out where either of them had come from. “Dawn,” he said softly, his face settling back to a tired smile. “You’re headed home?”
She nodded. “See you tomorrow.” Willow was already standing at the door, and Dawn followed. As they stepped outside, she smiled. Xander had apologized to her. He was going to cave. She couldn’t wait to tell Spike.
***
Anya finished up behind the counter and came over to sit by him at the table, where he was still staring into space, reeling. And then she did what Xander had been expecting, in the back of his mind, ever since he’d turned back from the fridge to see her standing naked in his basement.
She said, “Xander, I’ve changed my mind.”
His mind went completely blank, his heart racing and his life flashing, black and sparkly and blurry, before his eyes. He heard himself say, in a way that sounded like he was grinning and taking this all in stride, one more weird Anya-utterance, “What about?”
“I know I said I didn’t want to talk about what you said to Dawn. But I’ve changed my mind.”
The hyperventilated breath left him in something like a laugh, or possibly a sob. He put one hand to his face to check that it was still responding, and said, “Oh. All right.”
“Because when you said you didn’t want to talk about it, and I said I didn’t either, I assumed that meant that we would both be thinking about it, even if we didn’t actually talk about it.”
“Trust me, An, I’ve been thinking about it.” He’d been thinking about little else. What, exactly, was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to apologize for? Was he supposed to be delighted that a vulnerable little girl was spending all kinds of unsupervised time with two demons who, even if they were unlikely to physically harm her, could screw with her in lots of other ways? Was he supposed to tell Dawn, Hey, yeah, take off for LA whenever you feel like it, and no, it’s not necessary to check in, we don’t mind. Y’know, the whole thing where my best friend died so you could live? It’ll make an ironic little story to share with the other mourners at the funeral if you get prematurely dead because we didn’t take care of you in her absence. He wanted to say, Buffy will kill me if you’re not here, safe, waiting for her when she gets back, but that part was supposed to be a secret, so he couldn’t use it.
Anya looked down at the table. “So you know what you’re going to say to Spike?”
Xander blinked. “Spike?”
“Spike. You’re supposed to apologize to him, remember?”
“Yeah, I know, but... why do you care what I say to Spike?”
Anya looked at him, for the first time since he’d known her, like he was stupid. “Xander, do you remember what you said, that Dawn wants you to apologize for?”
He blinked. He’d been angry, scared for her and furious that she’d turned to Spike, and Angel, instead of one of her real friends. He’d mentally rehearsed a lot of screaming fits in the two days they’d spent waiting for her to come home, but the actual fight was a sort of miserable blur in his mind. “In general.”
She folded her arms. “Well, let’s just say we unwillingly reformed serial murderers have to stick up for each other.”
Xander’s jaw dropped. “Anya–-”
“Trust me, Angel and Spike combined have got nothing on my body count.” She tilted her head. “Is that why you’ve never left Dawn alone with me?”
“No!” And part of his brain immediately started trying to come up with a counterexample, when Dawn had been alone with Anya, but that was so not the point here. “Anya, no, you’re nothing like them, I know that.”
“No, Xander, that’s where you’re wrong.” She stood up, turned away. “I’m exactly like them.” One slender shoulder lifted in a stiff half-shrug. “Oh, I suppose I didn’t kill women and children, or anyone really, with my own hands the way they did, but I certainly caused deaths every bit as cruel and senseless, and took just as much delight in it. Really, if you think about it, at least they chose their victims personally, instead of just sacrificing entire villages to collateral damage. Angel was cursed with a soul, Spike was chipped, my power center was destroyed.” She turned back to face him. “None of us had a moment of clarity and just decided to stop hurting people.”
“Anya, I didn’t mean–-” and it was probably for the best that she didn’t let him finish that sentence, because he wasn’t sure what he was going to say next, or whether it would make any sense.
“You were saying what you felt, when you said that she would get hurt being with demons, that they couldn’t be trusted because of what they’ve done in the past. You were scared for her because she was with Spike and Angel all weekend. You were too scared to be nice like you normally are. But Dawn is at least as safe with Spike as you are with me. So for days now, I’ve been wondering...” She bit her lip. “Are you scared for yourself, when you’re with me?”
“I...” but she was done interrupting, and just stood there, watching him. “An, I’m not afraid of you.” He expected her to say something to that, but she just went on standing there, watching him. “I...” His mind ought to be racing, he knew, assembling words to sway her, to make her understand how it was different, but he felt like all his synapses had been flooded with molasses. “I love you,” he whispered. “That makes it different.”
She seemed to take pity on him, and came and sat down again. “Well, I bet Dawn thinks it’s different, too.”
Xander reached out a shaking hand to Anya’s, where she didn’t wear the ring he’d given her, even though he saw her try it on every night and every morning, because he hadn’t yet found the right moment to announce it to his friends. “Are we... Anya, tell me we’re still...”
She stayed silent just long enough for Xander to wish that the world really had ended before it could come to this, and then she said quietly, “I’m not breaking our engagement, Xander. But just because I’m not saying something, that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about it.”
***
Spike sat on the front porch steps, smoking and waiting. Dawn had triumphantly informed him of Xander’s apology as soon as she saw him, and in the face of her youthful self-righteousness, he’d said nothing. Even if it reminded him of some of her sister’s excessively-sainted moments, he couldn’t quite bring himself to wipe a smile off her face.
Still, there were limits, so Dawn was inside, humoring him by pretending to do her homework, and he was sitting out here, in the illusory privacy of the dim porch, waiting.
He didn’t think he’d have to wait long, now that the boy had cracked and apologized to Dawn. In truth, Spike was surprised he’d held out as long as he had. He had no illusions that Xander would actually have any interest in apologizing to him as Dawn had demanded, but the Scoobies were ferociously close to each other. Spike would have expected any one of them to gnaw off a limb in order to heal such a rift, without taking four days to think about it first. He stared at his cigarette, and considered that maybe that just meant Xander would rather lose a leg than apologize to him. Not impossible.
But if Spike’s ears didn’t deceive him, the boy was headed up the sidewalk in his direction right now, both feet still attached and in working order. Spike tossed the cigarette away, settled into a comfortable sprawl on the steps, and braced invisibly for the confrontation to come.
The boy came around the corner up the walk, looking a bit more like a kicked puppy than usual, which likely meant he wasn’t just here because Dawn had finally twisted him up into a satisfactory number of knots. No matter. As long as he didn’t come out swinging, Spike could manage this. Xander stopped a couple of strides short of the steps, so that they were roughly on eye-level, looked down, ran a hand over his hair. Raised his head and opened his mouth to speak, and Spike figured that was carrying the thing just about far enough. The gesture was made. Just because the boy had rolled over and shown his throat didn’t mean Spike had to try to take a bite.
“Apology accepted,” Spike said firmly, to be sure of stopping whatever words were about to bubble out of Xander’s mouth.
Dark-eyed blink, mouth working for a moment, like he could take in the sense of Spike’s words along with the air he was breathing. “What?”
Spike rolled his eyes. No reason to let the boy know his dignity was being spared if he didn’t have to. “You don’t like me, I don’t have a lot of use for you, but Dawn wants us both around, so we’ll try not to kill each other for her sake, right? No need to have a bloody Hallmark moment just to please her.”
Xander’s gaze flickered from Spike to the house. “Dawn...”
Spike sighed, and sat forward a bit, confidentially. “She’s still young enough to get a thrill out of making grownups dance to her tune. Doesn’t mean to be...” He cast about for a word that wasn’t ‘cruel,’ a word that wouldn’t call to mind just how well he understood being one-upped by a little girl. “She’s just thoughtless.”
Xander grimaced. “I guess she’s earned the right.”
Spike shrugged, not going to stop the boy kicking himself if he was that determined, and stood. “I’ll go get her, anyway, let her know you’re all reconciled.”
Xander nodded, stepping hesitantly closer, up onto the bottom step as Spike reached the porch and headed toward the front door.
A low voice, meant for his ears alone but still determined
to speak, stopped him. “Spike.” He turned back, meeting the steady eyes of a boy who was maybe just a little more grown up than he’d been thinking. “I just wanted to say, I know you’d never hurt her.”
Spike’s lips twisted into a less-than-vicious smirk. “Yeah. I can tell by the way you haven’t tried to stake me yet.”
Xander opened his mouth to shoot back a retort to what he must believe was sarcasm, but Spike cut him off. “I mean it, Harris.” He looked down, keeping his eyes trained on the scuffed toes of his boots as he spoke. “I know how it is. You’re not the alpha male of your little group, but you still get things done. If you’d thought I was really a danger to Dawn, you...” Oh, never going to buff his ego that much, “wouldn’t have wasted time arguing. I get that.”
He didn’t look up, and headed into the house before Xander could reply.
***
Dawn was sitting on her bed, sorting through a pile of folded-up notes that had accumulated in her bag over the past couple of weeks, deciding which to keep and which to throw away, when Spike appeared in the doorway. She smiled. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he replied, but he seemed distracted. “Look, me and your Scooby pal kissed and made up, so you should let him back in the house now.”
Dawn grinned and stood. Xander had caved! Spike wasn’t looking quite as vindicated as she felt, though.
“Dawn,” he said, slowly, in a way that made her sit down on the bed again. He kept his eyes fixed on the doorjamb, running his fingers along the trim as he spoke. “I should’ve said this sooner, but. You do understand that he’s your family now? All of them, but he’s a part of it. And you shouldn’t treat family like that.”
Dawn looked down, not quite willing to admit she understood what he was saying. Buffy was family, and her mom. “I don’t have a family anymore, except for Mom’s sister in Illinois.” Aunt Arlene, Uncle Gary, and Cousin Veronica, and boy was she glad they lived in Illinois.
Spike sighed. “No, pet, you do. You got Red, and Tara, and Rupert, and Xander, maybe even Anya if they’re that serious about each other. Don’t you remember that business with Tara? That wasn’t just about her, you know. You’re all family to each other.” Dawn looked up at Spike, who still wasn’t looking at her. But not you. You said you didn’t care. Dawn bit her lip, hard, but held still, trying not to give herself away. Of course Spike cared. Didn’t he?
“You got the same kind of family I have,” he said, softly. Dawn frowned at that. She remembered what he’d said, but there was nothing especially eternal about her sister’s friends who still felt some obligation to look after her. And anyway Buffy was gone and it was Buffy who had been the center, Buffy who had held them all together...
Spike looked a little frustrated when he met her eyes, like she ought to understand this already. “The kind of family that chose each other,” he said quietly. “We do it with blood, humans do it with words, call each other friends mostly, but they’re family to you, Dawn. They wouldn’t still be around if they weren’t, and that’s something real. And you need them.”
*I need you. You’re the strong one, you’re the one who can help me, you’re the one who won’t go away.* But Dawn wouldn’t argue, not with Spike, wouldn’t beg him to say he’d chosen her. Not now. *You won’t go away, will you?*
He shrugged, his frustration gone in an instant. He smiled briefly at her, eyes crinkling, and it was easy to smile a little back, to pretend she believed him and nothing was wrong, that she didn’t really need him any more than he needed her. “Course you’ve got it easy. Whatever you say when you go downstairs and see him, both of you’ll only be remembering it every time you see each other for the next sixty years or so. Being mortal’s handy that way.”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “All right, Spike, I get it.” And, okay, maybe she could admit, privately, just to herself, that being mad at Xander hadn’t been any more fun than having him mad at her. It had just lasted longer. She stood up again, and slipped past Spike, headed for the stairs. At the top, she remembered something and turned back to Spike, who had followed her. “Um, when you said...”
Spike rolled his eyes. “No. Of course not.”
Dawn nodded. Because if they’d actually kissed and made up, she... wouldn’t have wanted to miss it. Wouldn’t have wanted to miss videotaping it, actually, and blackmailing them both until the end of time, or until her head exploded with the weirdness of it, whichever came first.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Xander was standing just outside on the porch, like he really couldn’t get inside until she said it was all right. Dawn just smiled. “Come on in, Xan.”
He stepped inside with a relieved grin, and Spike patted her on the head as he came down the stairs and slipped past her. “You mind staying a bit, Harris? I need to go kill something.”
Xander looked surprised by that, but nodded. Dawn knew, because Willow told her about it, that patrol had been quiet the last few weeks. Which meant Spike needed to go kill something recreationally, which probably meant he was pissed--no, he’d taught her the word–-*narked* about something. Dawn winced a little. She hadn’t thought about whether Spike would want to be apologized to.
When he turned back to see if she minded being left with Xander, she smiled. “We’re cool. Probably won’t save you any pizza, though.”
He shook his head, but gave her a little smile before taking off, and Xander just said, “Ooh, pizza? I knew I picked the right night to come over here.”
***
Spike scowled as he stalked his prey through the graveyard. “And then! Today! I was nice to the boy. Nice. Bad enough I spend days asking myself what would please this one or that one, now I’m being nice.”
The idiot fledge, limping and stumbling from the fun Spike had already begun to have, called back, “Well, it’s just another way of making the girl and your Sire happy, right? No different from the rest.”
Spike darted up quickly and bounced the fledge’s head off a tombstone, grappling one handed for a moment before allowing it to throw him off and scramble away. “Hardly the point, is it? Because now there’s this other human, not my girl, just some stupid git she happens to think the world of, who’s looking at me like I’m just a sweet little kitty cat underneath my prickly exterior.”
Spike didn’t know what the right response would’ve been, but he doubted the fledge would have come up with it, and didn’t give it the chance. He launched himself at the pathetic little figure, planted one booted foot on its right arm, and yanked up on the uselessly grasping hand, neatly breaking both bones of the forearm. The fledge bucked and howled in pain, and Spike rolled his eyes. “Somebody wasn’t sired properly.” He backed off, settling onto a headstone and lighting a cigarette while the whiny soon-to-be-dust-bunny got to its feet and staggered about a bit, looking confused.
“I’m sure it... doesn’t mean anything,” the fledge offered, in a tone that Spike suspected was an attempt at wheedling. It was coming out pretty terrified. “Clearly you’re as bad as ever.”
Spike snorted. “You mean that? Really?”
The fledge nodded eagerly.
“So, then, if I’m so bad...” Spike stood, and slunk over to the fledge, smoothed its rumpled hair as it tried hard not to flinch away. “You won’t be surprised that I lied about sparing you if you turned out to be a good listener?” Brief stupid expression of shock on a demon face, as Spike reached out and broke its neck with a quick familiar motion. It fell at his feet, paralyzed but not dusted, until Spike flicked down the fag-end into the middle of its chest. It took a moment to catch, and then there was nothing left, not even a tell-tale filter in amongst the ash.
Spike laughed, standing alone. “Can’t even litter. Christ, I am a little house cat.” Bloody spicus domesticus. Speaking of which, it was getting on to Dawn’s bedtime.
Three kills would have to do for tonight. They’d been hard to come by–-he’d had to track them down, one by one, in the sewers and crypts where they were lying low. All of them were youngsters too stupid to get out of a town which, between the efforts of a long-resident Slayer and her gang, a government project, and a bitchy hell god, was beginning to have its reputation as prime vampire real estate tarnished. None of them was anything like preparation for what he just might be facing in twenty-four hours’ time, but he hadn’t expected that. There was no preparing for it. The very thought of preparing for it made him want to vomit the expensive human blood he’d been feeding on for the past week all over the neatly-trimmed grass.
But his hands remembered how, even if his brain was trying hard not to, and that was the best he could do. Lighting up the last cigarette in the pack, Spike turned and headed for the house on Revello Drive.
***
Dawn looked dubiously around at the small crowd gathered in the living room. Xander, his arm around Anya holding her practically in his lap, sat on one end of the couch, and Giles was seated comfortably on the other. Willow was perched lightly on the coffee table, like she might jump up at any second, and Tara sat on the floor, one hand on Willow’s knee, just maybe anchoring her to the earth. Spike was leaning on the edge of the fireplace, fidgeting tensely as he stared at the windows, waiting for sunset. Dawn was looking forward to it no less, because as soon as the sun was down, they were leaving for LA, this time with the approval, however grudging, of everyone present. She just had to get through the show-and-tell period first, and persuade them not to change their minds at the last second.
“Okay,” she said, counting off on her fingers, “I’ll call as soon as we get there to let you all know I’m okay and not dead in a ditch or anything. I’ll check in with somebody in Sunnydale, actual voice communication, not just leaving a message, every six to twelve hours thereafter, except between midnight and six a.m., unless it’s an emergency, and,” she frowned, looking from Willow’s intent face to Giles’ faintly amused one, “if I do want to call between twelve and six, I won’t waste time trying to figure out if it’s really an emergency, I’ll just call.”
She glanced down at her bag, then up again. “I have half a pound of assorted change in case I need to use a payphone, and can I just say again how much easier this would be if I had a cell phone like every other person in the state of California over age five,” and that got amusement from Xander and incipient correction from Anya, so Dawn pressed on.
“I have every phone number ever for all of you, plus Willow’s aunt in Valencia who will be happy to help me if I’m in trouble, plus every help line number known to man.”
She poked through her bag, pulled out the much-folded paper to show them. “I have this handy map of LA and environs, with all the churches marked with happy faces and all the graveyards and,” she tilted her head, squinting, really looking at the page for the first time, “um, high-crime districts and, what, major highways?” Willow nodded enthusiastically. “Marked in orange with ‘danger’ written on them.”
Dawn tucked the map back into her overloaded backpack, and pulled out the somewhat cooler parting gift Anya and Xander had given her. “I have my custom-made prototype consecrated attacker-repellant, the holy water pepper spray.”
“You have to try to use it at some point,” Anya said firmly, “and report how effective it is. If it’s really successful, we could arrange for a larger production run and sell it at the shop, maybe even wholesale it to magic shops in other areas, although it might cut into internet sales...”
Spike’s face went tight at that, not angry exactly, but some kind of upset, and Xander looked faintly embarrassed, but Giles’ soft voice beat them to the punch. “I think we’ll all be hoping that Dawn will have no use for the pepper spray.”
Anya shrugged, and Dawn expected her to suggest trying it out on the vamp nearest to hand, but she glanced toward Spike and didn’t say anything. Dawn tucked the bottle–-matte silver with a cross engraved on the front, very sleek–-back into the side pocket of her bag. “Okay, um,” she looked down at her hands, but had no idea where she’d been in counting off. “I’ll listen to Spike, unless I think I shouldn’t, in which case I’ll listen to Angel, unless he seems evil, in which case I’ll listen to Wesley, unless he’s being, um...”
“A prat,” Giles supplied.
Dawn nodded. “In which case I’ll listen to Cordy.” Dubious looks all around on that one. “Or call home for advice.”
Willow nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll be here.”
Dawn managed not to roll her eyes, looking quickly to Tara and seeing with relief that someone else thought this was kind of silly. “You don’t have to sit by the phone all weekend, that’s sort of the point of me being somewhere else: you don’t have to watch me. And if something bad happens here, you’ll call me, right?” She looked to Spike, who’d been patrolling with them ever since Buffy died, and out slaying whatever he could at other times as well, but he looked quickly away. “You’ll call us?”
Xander met her eyes, nodded briefly.
“Okay. So, I guess that’s it.”
“Dark now,” Spike said, by way of agreement, she thought. He’d been doing some sort of Oz impression ever since Xander apologized to him. He emerged from his corner, and took her bag when she held it out to him. He snagged Angel’s coat from the bannister, and headed out the front door as he put it on.
Dawn stared after him for a moment, and then turned back to her friends. Her family, if she believed Spike. Xander was the first to stand, coming over to give her a hug, and then the others quickly followed suit. She pulled on Spike’s coat and buttoned it up. When she looked up, the five of them were just standing there, watching her. Dawn smiled. “Guys, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
She pulled on Buffy’s gloves, gave them all a little wave, and went out after Spike. He was standing by the bike, glaring in the general direction of the sunset just past, but when she reached his side he smiled at her. “All set, then?”
Dawn nodded. “I think I liked this part better the first time. Less... expectation.”
Spike gave a short laugh at that, more than it deserved. “Yeah,” he said, “me too.”
***
On to Part 2