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Chapter 10

When the shaking and tears eased up, Spike tried to figure out just what exactly had occurred. This wasn’t his dream was it? Had it been a previous dream Buffy had told him? She’d certainly told him several of her “slayer” dreams before, but this one didn’t seem familiar at all. But why would he have one of those dreams? Wasn’t that Buffy’s way of coping? This wasn’t feeling good at all. It was horrifying. Completely nightmare. The creepy bad guys, the watching others battle for their lives, the falling... He could almost still feel the impact from when he’d hit the ground.

No! What he was feeling was a bad hangover, nothing more. He forced himself from his makeshift bed and began rapidly pacing back and forth as he considered it further.

Then why had he been featured in the dream? Buffy had never mentioned him before in talking about her dreams. Angel certainly, but not him.

The implications of the dream hit him full force in the chest and he felt the air being sucked from his lungs. He’d been...soulless. A monster who killed, not a man at all. He’d made the same promise to Buffy and he failed them. Buffy had, Buffy had, she’d...died, because of him. Was that the message?

His mind still turning at a rapid rate, he went to the kitchen and forced himself to drink some water. The alcohol. He was just hung over and dehydrated. Water made everything better as it filled the voids and washed everything away. It didn’t’ work. Why? Why had he dreamed that? He considered the question earnestly as he made his way back to the couch.

Jenny certainly believed dreams could tell you things if you’d listen. He always thought Buffy’s were telling her how strong she really was and that she would always win the wars she fought. But now he wasn’t sure. Was this dream telling him that she would die, that Dawn would be hurt, and all because of his failure? The thought sickened him and he lurched for the nearby trash can as his stomach rejected its contents.

No, no, no. Can’t think like that. Thinking too much in fact. This wasn’t some prophetic dream. It was nothing more than a combination of cheap whiskey and his own conscience. His mind had just seized on it’s memories of Buffy’s dreams and built on them. Nothing more.

But what if he was wrong?

Well then, he’d gotten the message loud and clear. He’d failed once. They had paid the price for it. He would never let it happen again. He’d made a promise and he was going to keep it.

**********

“So anyway, then Jessica told Sherry that she heard Greg say that he wanted to go out with Julie,” Dawn told the group of friends walking with her, who promptly burst into fits of giggles and proclamations of “No way!” and “ewww!” A familiar shadow caught her attention and a flash of black coat reflected for a moment in the store window next to her. Dawn came to a sudden stop, causing her friends to narrowly miss running into her.

“Spike! I *so* totally know you’re there. You have got to quit following me. Someone is going to like, report you or something.” Dawn insisted as she spun around and stood with one hand on her hip, the other busy holding countless bags containing her recent mall purchases. On cue, a sheepish looking Spike stepped out of the shadows several feet away. “God Spike, you’re like my shadow only worse! What does it take to get rid of you? I mean, nobody’s even heard from dad in four months!" She held up four fingers in emphasis. "Four months, Spike!”

Spike closed the distance between himself and the group of teens, not even noticing the fluttering eyelashes, grinning, and continued giggles from the girls now huddled up behind and around Dawn. “Doesn’t mean he won’t show up, and this time I’ll be ready when he does,” Spike insisted.

“Ugh! You are so thick headed! What, you think he’s working undercover at Hot Topic so he can snatch me out of the blue?” Dawn gave him her best ‘do you even *have* any brain cells?!’ look.. When he didn’t look to be swayed, she rolled her eyes and tried yet again. “Go away! Shoo! I give you leave! Be gone!” Dawn ordered, her hands waving emphatically around to communicate her exasperation.

Spike took hold of her by one arm and pulled her away a few steps from the group as he dropped his voice to little more than a whisper. “Look, whine and pout all you want, I’m not leaving you to get hurt. Never again.” Spike finished adamantly.

“Spike, I understand what you’re doing. Probably even better than you do, I’ve read your journal.” This earned her an incredulous glare. “Spike, no one is going to die, and you aren’t some soulless creature. I forgave you a *long* time ago, and Buffy’s just being totally stupid about the whole thing,” Dawn said. Seeing that maybe Spike might be hearing the tiniest bit of what she was saying, she continued on. “Look, things happen the way they do for a reason. If you had been the knight in shining armor that day, then dad would still be hounding us, Warren and Andrew would be walking around free, and both you and Angel would be the ones locked up. Buffy and I would both be living with dad again, and I don’t even *want* to think about what dad would have forced Buffy to do about the babies. Is *that* what you wanted to happen?”

Spike looked at Dawn with indignant horror, which Dawn took to mean that he somewhat understood what she was saying. “See, you’re not a monster at all, Spike. Everyone but you can see that. Even Buffy admits that things turned out better this way. She just doesn’t think she can forgive you because then she’ll have no reason not to be completely happy. You *know* Buffy has to be all sad and tragic. She thinks if she ever gets the smallest bit happy, then something bad will happen.”

Spike acknowledged her point with a silent nod.

“She’ll come around Spike. It just takes time,” Dawn said. She gave him a little pat on the shoulder for good measure, then with a very practiced flip of her hair she rejoined her group. As Spike started to follow her, she turned back to him, “Oh hey, if you’re still feeling guilty, I need another twenty dollars to buy this sweater I saw in the window at The Gap.”

Spike raised an eyebrow and gave Dawn one of his patent smirks.

Dawn’s friends, who were still watching and listening with fascination, all looked at each other and exclaimed together “Number 19!” before breaking down into shrieks of laughter. Dawn rolled her eyes as Spike sent her a look, his silent question clearly asking what the heck that was all about. Dawn sighed dramatically.

“They’ve given numbers to your trademark expressions. The whole eyebrow combined with a look that says, ‘I don’t think so,’” Dawn demonstrated the look rather competently, “is number 19. Honestly, you really need to get some new expressions.”






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