Buffy rapped on Tara and Anya's bedroom door before stepping inside the cluttered room, calling, “Hey Tara, Spike said you wanted to talk to me?” Before the girls had taken over, the room had been used for storage. It was somewhat disconcerting to see Spike's Ramones albums surrounded by piles of shoes and frilly underwear.
Willow put a finger over her lips and pointed to where Tara was talking on the phone. Buffy nodded and slowly crept through the maze of clothes and files to join the redhead on the small twin bed. Tara smiled at them and returned her attention to the phone conversation.
“Thank you very much, you've been a lot of help,” she politely ended the conversation and hung up the phone. She picked up a clipboard off an end table and made a few checkmarks. “That was the last call today. Everything's taken care of for now.”
Sensing Buffy's confusion, Willow hurried to explain. “Spike and Xander told us how worried you were about the funeral arrangements, the insurance company, and the lawyers, so we made a few phone calls for you. Since the investigation is still going on, the coroner is willing to hold on to the bodies until you're ready for them to be released. Your father's insurance agent sends his regrets and says that he'll get the paperwork started but doesn't expect to hear from you for a couple of weeks. ”
“I didn't know exactly what your parents' wishes were, so I called Mr. Howe, their lawyer. They wanted to be –” Tara began, quickly breaking off at the tears in Buffy's eyes. “Tomorrow we'll call a funeral home and see what they can do for us. Mr. Howe can answer any of your questions and will take care of the estate whenever you're up to it. There isn't anything that can't wait.”
Buffy hugged Willow and rose to embrace Tara. “Thank you. I knew it needed to be done, but I just couldn't bring myself to make those calls. Thank you,” she babbled, tears running down her cheeks.
“I thought we were doing this so she'd stop crying,” Anya observed from the doorway, precariously balancing three grocery bags.
“They're happy tears,” Willow informed the other agent as she helped carry in the bags. “What movies did you get?”
“Movies?” Buffy sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Yes, movies. Willow suggested having a girl's night and I picked up the movies and snacks. Are you done crying yet?” Anya dug through the bags, proudly displaying her purchases.
Buffy chewed on her lower lip, not sure how not to hurt Willow's feelings. “This is very sweet, really, but I don't think it's a good idea. With this new breakthrough, we've got a new list of suspects to run through and the handwriting analysis from the note just came in.”
Willow put an arm around Buffy's shoulders and forced the petite woman to sit on the bed. “Buffy, we all know how much work we have to do, but it will all be there in the morning. All you do is worry about the investigation and that's not healthy. A few hours of movies and girl talk will do you good.”
Recognizing Willow's resolve face, Buffy sighed and made herself more comfortable. Tara started a movie while Anya passed around the snacks. By the time the film started, the four women were situated contentedly around the tiny antiquated TV.
Despite her earlier protestations, Buffy soon relaxed enough to enjoy the movie as well as Anya's humorous running commentary. Between movies she slipped out of the room and down to the back porch. Spike was sitting on the top step smoking a cigarette.
“I thought I might find you out here,” she murmured softly, unwilling to break the peaceful atmosphere surrounding him.
“Bloody women won't let me smoke in my own house,” he grumbled good-naturedly. “Shouldn't you be upstairs for the gabfest?”
“We're taking a break,” she stood next to him, absently running her fingers through his hair. “Just when I think I've got you figured out, you do something completely unexpected.”
“It's all part of my charm, luv,” he smirked. The cocky grin on his face faded after a few seconds. “You don't have to be strong all the time. Let your friends take care of you for a change.”
The comfortable silence was broken a few minutes later when Willow announced that the next movie was about to begin.
“Go on up before they send out a search party. Remember what I said,” Spike urged, flicking the cigarette into the yard. Buffy nodded and made her way back to the bedroom. Once certain that she was well out of earshot, he removed his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans. He'd been in the middle of a conversation with his father when he'd heard Buffy opening the door. Without warning, he'd disconnected the call and hidden the phone.
“Dad, it's me. Sorry ‘bout that. Slayer walked outside and I don't want her to know what's going on,” Spike apologized. He felt around on the porch for a cigarette and cursed when he came up with an empty pack. “Tell me more about the note.”
“Er, yes, as I was saying, it was a plain white envelope addressed to Dawn. The return address was yours and it was postmarked Baltimore, so I assumed the letter was from you or Buffy,” Giles explained. “Your mother wanted to respect the girl's privacy so we did not open it. Looking back now, I wish we had read it first.”
“What did it say?” Spike demanded. The note Buffy received had angered him, but that was nothing compared to the rage he felt at someone threatening the younger Summers. Buffy could take care of herself; after all, that was her job. Dawn, on the other hand, was a civilian, an innocent. That coward of a murderer had no right to drag his Bit into all this. She had suffered enough loss and trauma already for her short life. Why couldn't that be enough?
Giles cleared his throat before saying, “The enveloped was typed, but the note was hand written. All it said was, ‘Do you think you're safe there?” He grinned wearily at the colorful expletive uttered by his son, ironically the exact curse that he himself had muttered after reading the note. “We've managed to pacify Dawn somewhat, but she's still rather upset. Perhaps you could talk to her for a bit?”
“Put her on,” Spike instructed. He took several deep, calming breaths as he waited for Dawn to come on the line.
“Hello?” a soft shaky voice greeted.
“How are you doing, Bit?” Spike inquired gently. It was an effort to stay composed when every part of him screamed for violence and revenge.
Dawn started sobbing as soon as she heard his voice. “It's so awful. He knows where I am! I want to come home, Spike.”
“Shh… Bit, don't cry. Your sister and I are going to take care of it. We're not going to let anyone get you,” he assured the distraught teen. “Mum and Dad are going to take you out of the city for a few days. I know it's hard, but you need to rest.”
She sniffled several times before blowing her nose loudly. “How's Buffy?”
“She's dealing,” Spike responded. He didn't want to tell her about the note Buffy had received or the blonde's visit to the house. The less Dawn knew about the investigation, the better off she was.
Dawn laughed through her tears and smiled at the thought of her sister “dealing.” “You mean she's working too much, not sleeping or eating, and driving everyone crazy?”
“Exactly.” Spike paused, smiling slightly at the sound of Dawn's laughter. “It will be all right, pet, I promise. We'll catch this bloke before he hurts anyone else.”
She was silent as she considered his statement. One thing she'd learned about her sister's ex-partner was that he always kept his promises. “I'm counting on you to take care of her. I don't just mean keeping her from getting killed. Make sure she eats and sleeps. I want a sister to come home to.”
“Don't worry, I'll take care of big sis,” Spike vowed. “Have Mum make you a cuppa hot cocoa and get some rest, okay? I'll make sure Buffy calls before you leave tomorrow.”
“Good night, Spike,” Dawn reluctantly handed the phone back to Giles. Following Spike's advice, she wandered into the kitchen and found Olivia making two cups of hot chocolate. She wished that she could have made the trip under different circumstances. The members of Giles family were wonderful, caring people. Giles let her borrow books from his massive library and Olivia was teaching her how to paint.
“Could you take her to the country house for a few days? She may feel safer away from the house,” Spike requested after his father returned to the phone.
“Already thought of that. The phones aren't working out there yet, but you have the number for your mother's mobile,” Giles responded, one step ahead of his son as usual. He'd learned through his own experience as a government intelligence officer to be prepared for anything and everything. He was immensely proud that his son had followed in his footsteps, and that Spike had chosen not work with his father's old organization, The Watchers.
“Thanks Dad. Call me if anything else comes up.” Witnessing Buffy's grief over the loss of her parents made Spike aware of his own parents' mortality, and he had made it point to call them at least once a week and was planning visit twice a year. “I love you,” he blurted before his father could hang up.
Stunned by his son's uncharacteristic behavior, Giles could only murmur an appropriate response before hanging up. After setting the phone down, he stared at it curiously before joining the girls in the kitchen.
Muttering under his breath, Spike rolled over and glared at the alarm clock. He'd been tossing and turning for the past three hours. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Dawn, bleeding and begging him to save her. Tossing off the blankets, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and headed to the kitchen, hoping a cool glass of water would help slow down his overactive imagination.
After pouring a drink, he sat at the kitchen table. Buffy's cherry red cell phone caught his eye and gave him an idea. He noiselessly picked up the phone and crept out to the back porch. Scrolling through her phone book, he smiled when he reached the entry labeled “Peaches.”
“The things I do for women,” Spike groused before hitting the send button.
“Buffy?” Angel answered huskily. Shaking off the fog of sleep, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. Something had to be horribly wrong. Buffy never called in the wee hours of the morning. “What happened? Are you all right? Where are you?”
“She's fine, you poof,” Spike responded. The concern in the other man's voice sent a wave of jealousy over him. Buffy was his to protect, not Angel's. “You and I can't stand each other and I'm content with the status quo. Only problem is we have something in common: Buffy. The way I see it, after running away like a ninny you still owe her. She won't admit it, but she's in over her head.”
“She must be if she's having you call for her,” Angel observed. It was mention of Buffy's name that kept him from losing all interest in the conversation. He'd never liked his former fiancée's partner. In his opinion, Spike was too brash and tended to bring out Buffy's aggressive side. While Angel wanted her to take a less active role in FBI investigations, Spike was always volunteering her for the most impossible and dangerous assignments. It had hurt to see Buffy grow closer to her partner and further away from him.
“She doesn't know I'm calling, and I'd prefer to keep it that way. Are you willing to help her or not?” Spike demanded. He wasn't going to waste time idly chitchatting with someone who wasn't going to be of any assistance.
“Of course I will. What do you need me to do?” Angel inquired cautiously. Helping Buffy with Drusilla had been a minor issue. He had a feeling that whatever Spike was about to ask of him would be much more complicated.
“Dawn's in England with my family. Somehow he knows where she is. Dad was great at all the cloak and dagger, but he's been retired for too long. I need a second set of eyes out there.” Spike didn't have to explain who he was or what the favor was.
Angel was silent for a minute as he considered Spike's implied request. He'd just wrapped up his last assignment and was planning on taking a week of down time. The last time he'd seen Dawn, she had been a cute little girl in pigtails playing with Barbie dolls. Just the idea that someone might harm her made the decision easy. “I'll do it,” he agreed.
“Buffy'll appreciate it. If she lost Dawn, too…” Spike trailed off, unwilling to think of that possibility. “They'll be leaving London to stay at their summer home. I'll call you with the address as soon as I get to a secure line.”
“I'll get the address. It's best if we keep communication to a minimum,” Angel interrupted.
“I owe you,” Spike hesitantly uttered the phrase he swore he'd never say to anyone.
“I know.” Angel ended the call with a click.
“Bloody poof. Don't know what she saw in him in the first place,” Spike grumbled as he walked back into the house. He set the phone back on the table and returned to his bedroom, pleased to find that, aside from now owing Angel a favor, he felt somewhat relieved.
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