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Although it was a warm autumn night, he felt as if an icy hand was squeezing his entrails.
He searched his pocket for the car keys, doubting that he would be able to drive, doubting that he would be able to do anything .

He didn’t realize someone was talking to him until he felt a hand on his back.
He turned around and found himself looking at a young girl with long, dark hair. Her blue eyes were so clear they seemed almost see-through.

“Hey”, she said, blushing.
“I’m sorry, I don’t wanna be nosy or something, but I heard your…erm… conversation with Riley.”
She paused and tucked her hair behind her ear.
“I’m Dawn”, she finally said, as if it would explain everything.
“Buffy’s sister.”
She tilted her neck a little more to the side, her smile widening just a tad as she swung her hair behind her shoulders.

His lips parted to a silent “oh” as he grasped her outstretched hand.

“Well, you said you are Buffy’s friend?”

He nodded, cleaned his throat and said: “We met each other when we were children, but I… erm… kinda lost sight of her.”

He realized she was avoiding meeting gazes with him when she whispered: “So you don’t know what happened to her?”

He stared at her, watching the sad expression on her face, and, refusing to consider what was coming, heard her say:

“Buffy’s sick.”

“What do you mean with ‘sick’”,? he finally brought himself to say, not realizing that his voice had fallen to a whisper.

She was preparing to explain it to him and he sensed that the story she was about to tell couldn’t be summed up in two or three sentences.

Sick... the word whirred in his head like a restless ghost and he searched for something, anything to say to Dawn- but he only found a grey swirling space as his mouth opened and closed.

******

They were sitting in Spike’s car, sharing a silence that was almost as deep as a night ocean.
Dawn took a deep breath and, kneading her fingers, began to speak.
“When Mom died… two years ago… we felt so lost and helpless. Her death was so abrupt, so unexpected, you know…we couldn’t deal with it. Suddenly I felt as if I was a forlorn and terrified child… and in a way I’ve really been. Buffy did her best to be there for me whenever I needed her. But she was just as helpless as I was, and it was just too much for her to be my mother, my father, my sister and my best friend… all at the same time. And then she met Riley at college.”

She paused as if searching for the right words.
“He kept her grounded and he helped her to endure the hardest weeks after Mom’s death. Last year he proposed marriage to her- and she accepted.”
Dawn placed her arms around her upper body as if she was cold and continued, ignoring Spike’s silent fizzling.
“I never thought she would accept- I mean, she claimed that she loved him, but I can’t believe that. She never looks at him as if she’s in love. There’s no sparkling in her eyes… she isn’t beaming with joy when he pays her compliments… there’s never a dreamy expression on her face, you know what I mean? She just doesn’t behave like any woman in love would do.”
She didn’t seem to expect an answer, but he asked, anyway:
“So why did she marry him?”

Her voice fell to a whisper and she avoided meeting gazes with him, when the words slipped from her lips:
“I think she did it mostly because of me. She wanted to make sure that I could go to college, that I lacked nothing.”
She sighed and closed her eyes, trying to force back her tears.
“She married Riley ‘cause she wanted me to live in comfort. Dad is living in L.A. with his new wife, he never really cared about us. He left us when I was a baby. If Buffy hadn’t married Riley, we would’ve been forced to give up our house and everything we loved… the memories of our childhood… and of Mom.”

A single tear was streaking down her pale cheek as she went on:
“A few months ago I remarked that she was unnaturally pale. She seemed to be so weak and powerless. First I thought it was because she’s unhappy with Riley, but when I begged her to go to a doctor…”

She couldn’t bring herself to speak further and when she looked at him, eyes full of uncried tears, he lifted a hand and touched softly her face.
“What did the doctor find out?,” he asked, before he could decide whether he really wanted to know.
A sad smile crossed her face, and her eyes never left his as she finally said the words that numbed his soul.

“She has leukaemia.”


*~*~*~*~*


He wanted to stand up, run away, but how could he when his legs were made of nothing more than the blue-black air outside the car? He had as much command over his body as he did over the wind or the moon. Unable to anything at all, he stared helplessly at her, wishing suddenly that he had misunderstood the meaning of her words.
Looking into the darkness, his hands fidgeting in his lap, he wanted to be someone else, or someplace else.

“How long…,?” he asked with the strained voice he used after he’d been sick and was trying to pretend he was already well.
“We know about it since last summer.”

He tried in vain to swallow his suddenly sour tasting saliva, feeling as if an iron fist had been rammed into his stomach, pressing the breath out of his lungs.
With his eyes widely open he turned to Dawn, when he heard her whispering:
“Riley’s family is extremely religious… and so is he. When Buffy told him that she had leukaemia, I thought he would do anything in his power to help her, but I was wrong.”

She buried her face in her hands and, sobbing, said:
“He said that all we could do is praying for a miracle. He didn’t want Buffy to get any medication… he didn’t even want to hear about a chemotherapy. He’s convinced that any form of medical attendance is blasphemy. He always says: “If it’s God’s will, she’ll defeat the leukaemia.”

Spike closed his fist in his lap, the thing he did when attempting to stop a flow of unwanted words. It usally worked.
“Insane bastard! I swear I’ll kill him,” he hissed, his clenched fist not doing his job.

“God, I hate him so much! I hate his set of beliefs… his insanity.”
With her right hand she wiped away her tears, doing her best to keep her countenance.
“Last week he finally gave in under the pressure of our friends and the neighbors.”
She let out a humorless laugh and explained:
“I guess he did it ‘cause he was aware that Buffy’s best friend Xander would have dashed out his brain if he hadn’t agreed to pay the medical treatment.”

“Where is Buffy now?” Spike’s voice sounded somehow strange, as if it belonged to somebody else.

“She's in hospital.”

“How is she?,” he wanted to hear the answer and he wanted to scream against it.
Dawn looked at him, her lips shaking, trying desperately to hold back her tears.

He understood.
She didn’t need to say anything, the expression on her face was answer enough.
He patted her shoulder, unsure if he was trying to ease her pain or his own.

“Can you take me to her?,” he asked quietly.

*~*~*~*~*



“That’s her room”, Dawn whispered, pointing at the door with the number 312.
He nodded, feeling suddenly that he wasn’t able to keep breathing under the weight of sadness that pressed his voice thinner than a whisper.
“I’d like to be alone with her… just for a moment.”

He put a hand on the doorknob while hundred of thoughts filled his head, making him dizzy.
His stomach tingled like it was too heavy and didn’t want to enter the room with him, when he finally opened the door.


TBC





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