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Chapter Four


Spike held back, a bit shy, as they ascended the metal staircase that led to where Buffy was resting. His hands were buried deep within his jacket clutching hopelessly to the soft leather, trying to brace himself for all the horrors Willow had forewarned him lay inside.

Buffy’s room had originally been the manager’s office, divided into three smaller segments with cubical walls in dull grays and navy blues. It held a large window that looked out on the factory, giving the boss a bird’s eye view of his workers productivity, but since taking over residence the Scoobies had new blinds installed and kept them tightly shut at all times. Originally the idea was to use this space as a sick room, not belonging to one person in particular but rather the group at large. When Buffy became the soul occupant was hard to say, but now it was simply her room, no question about it.

Spike could smell her scent and he inhaled deeply as Willow paused, perched on the top step and rapped softly on the door. There was a muffled reply of “come in” and Willow swung open the door, sparing a small smile for the blonde vamp.

The room was warm, hot air seeming to choke on entry. A small brass lamp was glowing on a stack of milk crates, which served as both a bookcase and an end table. Xander rose from the worn lounger where he had been quietly reading to Buffy. He hastily shoved the copy of Great Expectations behind him.

“Hey.” Willow smiled at her best friend, a hint of warning in her green eyes to play nice. “How’s she doing?”

Spike missed Xander’s reply as he felt a wave of bile rise up in his throat and fought to push it down. The sour taste filled his mouth as he stared at the figure on the small twin bed. Tucked behind a small divider of navy blue lay Buffy. Standing in the doorway and you would never see anything but the ratty brown chair, a small dresser bare of all knickknacks, and the milk cartons which seemed to be the only running theme throughout the building. It was only when you entered, lungs filling with stifling warm air that you could see this waif of a girl sleeping.

Spike felt a hand reach out over his chest to stop him, probably Xander the back of his mind registered but he pushed forward, coming to stand over her. This wasn’t Buffy, it couldn’t be. The once glistening strands of golden blonde hair, spilled around her dull and lifeless. She was tucked in with heavy comforters up to her shoulders, but by the way her collarbones jutted through her skin, she was obviously not eating. Dark circles marred her face, skin so porcelain white she looked like a china doll, her lips cracked and dry despite the pitcher of water perched with a glass beside the bed. Spike had seen Buffy hurt before, seen her crazy, seen her come out of a fight battered and bloody but he had never seen her look so beaten before.

There was no spark of life in her at all, her chest seemed frozen, not rising with each breathe. “Is she-? I mean she’s still-?”

Willow stepped beside him. “It’s just a sleeping drought. It lasts for 12 hours. Lets her get her rest.” She explained. “Kind of makes her look…”

“Dead?” Xander piped up, from behind the redhead.

“Well I was gonna go with pale, but I guess yours works too-“ Willow scrunched up her face. ”In a blunt sort of way.”

It was then that Spike realized why the room was so damn warm. Buffy began shivering uncontrollably, her body twitching in an effort to warm itself despite the heap of blankets that lay across her. Xander was at her side in an instant, grabbing a pan from the hot plate and dipping a damp rag in it and wiping off Buffy’s face with the warm water. He rubbed his hands together vigorously, and then placed the palm of one flush against her forehead, his thumb trailing soothingly across her brow. After a moment she stopped shivering and reverted to her limp state.

Xander rose, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. “It’s been getting worse. I would raise the heat some more but I’m worried that she will end up a crispy piece of Buffy bacon if it gets much hotter. So I thought I’d just try to keep her warm…” He shook his head sadly, looking to Willow, as Spike desperately wished he had some warmth to bestow upon his love.

“You should have come and got me.” Willow scolded as she stepped outside the divider, rummaging around for something.

“Well, I would’ve but you were with Captain Peroxide here. I didn’t feel like interrupting that wonderful little Hell.” Xander shot back.

Willow came out, checking her watch as she did so, a small vile clutched in her other hand. “Doesn’t matter. She can’t have another dose for at least 30 minutes.”

“Another?” Xander looked at her skeptically and then noticed the tiny green glass bottle in her small hand. “You gave her that?! What are you nuts? Don’t you even remember how dangerous that stuff is?”

“I remember.” Replied Willow huffily. “But this isn’t like last time. And besides it just for one night. She needs to sleep.”

“Last time I checked she was sleeping.” Xander retorted, swelling up in anger. He felt like he was losing his two best friends, Buffy to her own mind, and Willow to her desire to bring back the old Buffy at all costs. “She doesn’t need that let’s-make-me-go-all-crazy potion! That’s something I think she can live without.”

“It won’t make her crazy!” The redhead insisted, clutching the bottle to her chest protectively. “It’s to help. So she won’t have all those horrible dreams and things.”

“You mean so you won’t have to listen to her?” Willow faltered at that, eyes wide with injury and disbelief that Xander could suggest such a thing. Her mouth hung open, she willed her brain to make words but they would not come. “Truth hurts doesn’t it?” Xander asked quietly, voice like steel, eyes like ice.

“What’s this then?” Spike piped up, tearing his gaze away from Buffy’s sunken face to the warring friends.

“This is Xander being a stupid idiot about things he doesn’t understand!”

“Well I’m pretty sure this is about Willow trying to take the easy way out even if it means pushing Buffy into a nice padded cell!” He rebutted. “I mean haven’t you learned what happens every time you try to take a short cut?”

"Short cut! Me? Look whose talking Mr. I-do-nothing-around-here-but-eat!"

"Excuse me? I go to work everyday unlike some of us..." He glared across the small heated space.

"Oh and what I do isn't work?" Willow asked incredulously. "All I do around here is work! Who make sure the bills get paid on time? Me. Who makes sure there is food in fridge and dinner and lunch? Me. Who is the one who is always cleaning and cooking and researching even when everyone else has gone to bed? Umm... hello? that would be me again! God Xander, how can you be so..." She flustered looking for a word. "Boorish!"

"Boorish?" Xander asked

"It mean's pigheaded."

Xander was about to dive headfirst into a rant about how he knew what it meant and that no one took him seriously except Spike interrupted, swiftly pulling the small green glass vial from Willow's grasp. "God! Can you children try to concentrate for a moment? All you've been doing is squabbling since I got here. Can't you just bloody shut up for a bleeding moment! No wonder she's off her bird, you two's squawking could drive anyone into the bleeding nuthouse! Now," He regained his composure, holding the vial closer to the light. "Someone want to tell me what this is and why you all are carrying on about it?"

Willow and Xander exchanged a long glance then with a heavy sigh, Willow spoke, taking the platform. "It's a potion. It allows her to have a dreamless sleep." Xander coughed, causing the red head to send him a pointed glare before explaining. "It allows her to have a dreamless sleep by obstructing her subconscious. It blocks fears and worries from being presented in the normal way, while she’s sleeping."

"And?" Xander prompted but Willow didn't continue. Her eyes floated to the floor, suddenly finding her shoes fascinating. "Well since Wills doesn't want to mention it let me fill you in on some of the pleasant little side effects this magical little cure has been known to cause, namely a bunch of crazy people. See when you lock up all that stuff it pretty much puts you on the road to Locoville."

"Not if it is given in the right dose!" The witch insisted. "Which is why with the clock and the whole time thing. Space it out and only for tonight so it won't build up in her system. And she gets to sleep..." Her pleading eyes landed on Spike shifting the power to him. Another time and the vampire might have found it odd how one person who couldn't stand him and another who could magic him into little bits was looking to him to make the call. But right now all he could think about was Buffy. If he was hoping for time to think it over, mentally balance the pros and cons, to ask more questions, his time was cut drastically short as the sounds of heavy footsteps sprinted up the stairs and threw open the door without knocking.

Kennedy held on to the doorframe, breathless. "They're missing. I looked everywhere." She panted.

"Who?" Willow asked as she assisted her girlfriend into the lounger.

"Faith and Dawn." She managed. "The car is missing too."

"Damn." Xander swore. "So what do we think?" He looked to Willow.

"I dunno. Do you think they might have just gone out to get something together?" She asked, turning to her lover.

"Faith would have said something." Kennedy insisted though the doubtful gazes from the others told her they didn't share her opinion. "I think Dawn took off again. I didn't see her anywhere after Spike's-" She noticed the blonde vamp standing in the room. "Anywhere after." She repeated.

"Seems to be the Dawnster's M.O." Xander nodded. "And my guess is Faith went out after her?"

A fretful look crossed Willow's face. "This isn't good. Faith isn't up to her usual strength, between Buffy and the spell. She may not even realize it."

"So they are both in danger." Xander concluded. "So where do we start looking?"

"You take the Flats. And I'll take the East Side. Dawn would probably want to blow off some steam. I'm thinking clubs, pool halls, anywhere she could get into." She helped Kennedy to her feet. "You think you can manage the troops here by yourself. I'm gonna get Vi and Rona see if they can cover the lakefront. You can be home base, just keep the girls calm and inside. I think they have had enough excitement for one day." She sent a sad look to Spike, who was standing apart from the group, his hands worked tightly around the small bottle.

"Keep 'em in out of trouble. Roger." Kennedy nodded.

"Wait." Called Xander as they started to file out the door. "Who is gonna sit with Buffy? It's not good for her to be alone for too long and who knows how long this will take?"

"I will." Spike spoke up, his voice a bit shy.

Xander opened his mouth to argue but quickly closed it, reading the looks radiating off of Kennedy and Willow. Time was of the essence here. Faith and Dawn were out there, and with Faith only up to half of her usual strength and Dawn without any it could be trouble. He didn't want to leave Buffy, every fiber of his being told him to stay, watch over her, but they were out there. Seeing the war raging in his eyes Kennedy piped up helpfully. "I'll be here. I'll check in and make sure she's okay. If things get worse I'll phone."

With a last accusatory glance at Willow, Xander trudged down the stairs, his thoughts evident, that she had brought this on them. Kennedy followed him, talking game plan and suiting him up with weapons. But Willow hung back. "She'll need that in about 20 minutes. " Her eyes flickered down the green glass bottle he was holding. "Just pour it in her mouth and make sure she swallows it. Other than that, keep her comfortable, and sometimes it helps if you read to her, a stack of her favorite books are over there." She gestured at a small milk carton shelf in the corner. "She likes the romances. But ya know not the smutty kind cuz Buffy's not like that."

She shook off her previous mistake, all business. "If you have any problems Kennedy should know what to do." She inhaled deeply, going over to Buffy and brushing her hand gently over her forehead. Then she turned, pausing just outside the door, not turning around. "Don't worry. We'll bring them home. We always do." And with that she was gone leaving the Slayer alone in Spike's care.


******


“Oh Willow is so gonna kill you!” The teen chanted with a hint of joy that Faith and not her would be on the chopping block.

“I’m not takin’ the fall for this. The car got stolen. Not my fault.” Faith shook her head. ”If anything it’s your fault.” She wheeled on the teen. “I mean you’re the one who invited Spike in the first place.”

“What? Me?” Dawn jogged after Faith who was hugging Buffy’s denim jacket closer to her as she walked down the narrow sidewalk. “I so did not! It was Willow who called and that’s how he found out. I didn’t even know he could leave LA.”

“I bet you didn’t.” Faith muttered as she stopped leaning against a Bus Stop sign.

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

“What it means, brat, is that someone had to roll out the welcome mat so Spike could even enter. I bet if you knew he could leave LA you might have mentioned that you had invited him, that’s all.”

Dawn crossed her arms, lifting her head as she tried to go for stern and unwavering. “I so did not.” Faith rolled her eyes, fingers playing with the cool metal of the sign. “I mean…” The younger Summers faltered for a second. “Well Buffy could have. When we were in LA.”

“Sorry, wrong answer thanks for playing. Please, someone’s got to teach you how to lie and who to lie to. I was there in LA. I saw B, ‘member? She looked ready to spit nails. I seriously doubt she got down and cuddly in some closet with a spook and then invited him to hop on over next time.” Faith yawned, stretched her arms over her head. “My guess is that you felt sorry for the poor guy after big sis chewed him out and offered him a place to crash if he was ever in the neighborhood. Hell, I don’t blame you, might have done the same if I wasn’t busy trying to keep B from either staking Angel or fucking his brains out and then staking him.”

“Yeah.” Dawn shrugged, not bothering to fight it anymore. Faith was turning out to be a lot cooler than she ever thought possible. “It was kind of crazy. And what was with that one guy trying to get Xander to go into gay demon porn?”

“Lorne? He means well but sometimes he goes a little overboard with the star search shit. Hey here comes our ride.” She motioned with a nod of her head to the bus pulling up.

“Umm… Faith? It’s going the other direction. See?” She said pointing. “It says Waterfront and Flats.”

“And your point is? Come on,” She called as she went to board. “Loosen up, we might as well have some fun before Will puts the whammy on us. Besides I’m there to protect you from all the things that go bump in the night. I say we might as well enjoy the freedom.”

Dawn grabbed the handle, taking a deep breath, and stepped aboard. “Might as well…”


*****

Spike sat down on the lounger as he heard the heavy doors close with a loud bang, his head resting in his hands. It had been a long day, far too long, and his head was pounding. He didn’t want to think, he didn’t want to feel, it was too much, too many emotions and thoughts pouring down on him, drowning him. They swirled around him, passing images, never close enough to really turn over, always being forced away as another hurtled towards him. Buffy was sick, Dawn was missing, he had some potion to give to Buffy which he couldn’t tell would do more harm than good. It was all too much.

In LA he had felt like a prisoner, held by his own cage, his choices molding the bars and fitting them tight till he couldn’t leave. After the confrontation with Buffy, when she marched into Wolfram and Hart, and found him not so dead, he vowed he wouldn’t face her again until he could tell her the whole truth. A searing pain shot up through his stomach as he replayed that horrible day, her hurt eyes flashing, the angry words. No, he had decided that the next time he saw Buffy he would be a man again, there would be no secret of the Shansu prophecy over his head. Yet here he was.

He cursed himself, but for staying away so long or coming at all he didn’t know. It was all so jumbled, fractured pieces that refused to hold still long enough for him to mend what was broken. Buffy he could deal with, he could take care of her and he was good at that, for over a century he had taken care of Dru. But Drusilla had always been like that, sure some days were…well, less crazy than others but even at her weakest she had never looked as beaten as Buffy did now.

A lump rose in his throat as his eyes drifted to his once golden goddess. Dru had been driven insane long before he stepped into the picture but Buffy had been fine. Sure sometimes she would walk the line straddling light and dark, or blame a bloke for what couldn’t be helped but she had been fine. And he couldn’t help but feeling that if he had been there, if he had come as soon as that magical package arrived, that maybe all of this could have been prevented. Hell, she could be breaking his heart with that smile of hers right now.

He tried to remain calm, detached, to block the cyclone of emotion threatening to rip his heart apart and scatter it. But the tears came anyway, unbidden, and unwelcome. With a firm hand he wiped furiously at them. Spike was above this. He was the big bad. Buffy needed him. He clung to that though gathering his wits about him and turning over in his mind the witch’s instructions. Read to her, keep her comfortable, and the potion. He could do that.

His eyes scanned the books, settling on Little Women. Red had said Buffy liked the romantic stuff and he figured that it would fit the bill, either that or bore him to tears. He stood, going over to Buffy, he pulled the blankets up more tightly around her, and then settled himself on top of them, careful to give her as much space as the tiny bed allowed. He had only gotten as far as the title when a small digital clock caught his eye. He was supposed to give Buffy the potion in about a minute, that was what Willow had said to do, and she would know, he reasoned. But there was a nagging in the back of his head that the boy was right on this one, messing with someone’s subconscious usually yielded some pretty nasty results. His blues eyes once again took in Buffy’s peacefully resting form. It was his call and he knew it. But he didn’t get up or pull the small vial from his pocket. Instead he began reading aloud. “`Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents,' grumbled Jo, lying on the rug…”


TBC





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