Dawn

Dawn was done with her math final. All the problems had been calculated, she’d shown her work to the best of her ability, and she’d emailed her final answers to her teacher. Dawn was really enjoying home school. It allowed her to travel with her sister and stay up on her classes so she could maybe even graduate early from high school.

She half-skipped down the hall to the apartment that she shared with her sister. It was the latest in a series of tiny apartments that they occupied in Buffy’s world tour of slayer organization. They’d been doing about a year and a half now, and they had a rhythm.

Dawn’s smile dissipated when she pushed into the tiny living room and saw that Andrew was cuddled up on the sofa under her favorite cozy blanket. Her rhythm with Buffy did not include the last of the nerd trio. He was lost in a video game – something with dragons and magic – and he wasn’t supposed to be here. Dawn had been looking forward to having the apartment all to herself.

“Andrew!” she shouted because he was wearing noise-cancelling headphones. He’d been kicked out of the last place he lived for being too loud, so Buffy let him stay with them but had threatened him with his life if he didn’t play his games with the headphones.

Andrew startled so hard at the sound of his name that he fell off the sofa and landed on his butt on the floor, the headphones askew on his head, the video game controller on one side of the room and his cell phone on the other. He clambered to his feet. “Dawnie bear!”

Dawn ignored his nickname for her; she’d long since figured out that he didn’t listen when she told him that she didn’t appreciate his unending stream of monikers. Only her sister and Spike were allowed to have nicknames for her, and Spike was long dead, burned up in the hellmouth. She pushed aside the bit of sadness that rose in her chest. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the airport?”

Andrew was supposed to be on a plane to South Africa to join Xander in his work there. The Scoobies had been taking turns housing Andrew. Dawn almost felt sorry for him, but the notion of having a moment alone was way more appealing.

His eyes grew round, and he searched for his phone, not finding it and instead picking up the controller and TV remote. “What time is it?” He punched buttons, turning off the game system.

Dawn checked her watch and tapped the glass with one finger. “You better get to the airport. I think your flight leaves and soon.”

“Crap! And it’s an international flight!” He paused, his face going dreamy. “Andrew Wells – international jet setter – headed to South Africa on an outbound plane to meet with the – with a capitol ‘T’ – Slayer’s best friend who is on a mission to organize the Slayers and push back the forces of darkness on a global scale. . .”

“Andrew,” Dawn interrupted.

He smiled and sniffed one armpit. “I should take a shower first.”

Dawn wrinkled her nose as if noticing for the first time that the living room smelled like unwashed male and leftover unrefrigerated food. She tried to remember where she put the Febreze and her favorite ocean-scented candle. They were probably in the miscellaneous boxes that were stacked in the corner of the dining room. “Better hurry.”

“Yes!” Andrew perked up and darted toward the bathroom.

Dawn sighed and then took in the mess around her. First, she folded her favorite blanket, noting a stain of some sort on one side. She’d have to wash it. Then, she cleaned up the takeout boxes, food-crusted plates, and soda cans before turning to Andrew’s suitcase in the corner. He’d been living out of it, and she felt the tug of almost-compassion again. She gently closed the bag and ran the zipper around the edge to seal it shut. Then, she spied Andrew’s cell phone face down just under the corner of the cheap TV stand.

She picked up the phone, which unsurprisingly was the newest cell phone with a keyboard. She intended to tuck it into the outer pocket of the suitcase, and then, she noticed something on the screen. It was a text message from someone labelled, “Her Vampyre.”

Dawn frowned and pushed a couple of buttons until she found the text. Her frown melted into a look of confusion as she read the other messages – and there were a lot of them – between Andrew and Her Vampyre. She sank down onto the sofa, and the truth washed over her as she read the earnest questions in Her Vampyre’s texts. Andrew’s responses were usually vague and/or overly dramatic, which is when a strong sense of familiar irritation seemed to infiltrate Her Vampyre’s replies. That and the British cursing clued her in.

The shower in the next room turned off, and Dawn made a split-second decision, shoving the cell phone under the sofa cushion where she perched and trying to look innocent. Andrew burst out of the bathroom, tugging a T-shirt over his head. He rushed to the suitcase and pulled up the handle.

Flustered, he smiled at Dawn as he stuffed his wallet in his jeans pocket. “Thanks.” He glanced around the room, an expression of desperation on his face. “Have you seen my cell?”

Dawn winced out of guilt, but Andrew missed it. “I found it by the TV and put it in your bag along with the charger.” She actually had no idea where the charger was and would have to buy one later. She handed him his printed flight itinerary that had been on the table by the front door.

“Thanks! I’m off!” he announced with flourish. “Hold down the fort until I return, mon petite clé.”

Dawn sighed at the garbled French nickname. “Don’t worry. I got it covered,” she said before holding her breath as she watched him theatrically exit the small apartment.

After he left, she kept herself busy by picking up the apartment, loading the dishwasher, taking out the trash, and starting a load of laundry that included her favorite blanket. She scrubbed the bathroom, ate lunch, and took a long bubble bath. Wearing her most comfortable leggings and a long T-shirt, she lit a vanilla candle (the ocean-scented one was still missing) in the living room and retrieved her warm blanket from the dryer.

Now, she was sure Andrew wasn’t coming back, so she let herself face the hidden cell phone. She would have scribbled down the number and then called or texted from her own phone, but the cell Buffy bought for her was buried under the rubble of Sunnydale. So, Dawn had to borrow the one that was available.

Finding the texts again, she took a deep breath and typed a message before she could talk herself out of it. Her heart thundering in her chest, she pushed send. The message appeared on the tiny screen: “Spike? It’s Dawn.”

She wanted to type, “It’s your Bit, your Nibblet. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you for so long. Why haven’t you contacted us? Is it because of how I treated you? Buffy misses you. I miss you.” But she didn’t. She’d for sure cry if she did. She pushed these thoughts out of her mind.

Instead, she stared at the screen and waited.

* * *

Dawn stirred on the sofa as she felt a gentle hand pushing hair off her forehead. She made a small sound at the touch and felt her blanket being pulled up to her shoulders. Then, her brain reminded her of the cell phone that had been sitting on her lap, and her eyes flew open, adjusting quickly in the dim light.

Her sister squatted next to her, a tired smile on her face, her blonde hair pulled away from her face in a low bun. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No worries.” Dawn tried to surreptitiously feel around on the blanket for the cell phone, worried that Buffy had found the small device. Her right hand closed around the metal wedged between her butt and the back of the sofa. Phew.

“Andrew left, I see.” Buffy stood and sloughed off her leather jacket, draping it over her arm.

Dawn laid her head on the sofa pillow, her arm angled under her head. “He did. He almost forgot, but I got him gone.”

Buffy glanced around the tiny living space. “Thank god. And you picked up and it smells so much better!”

“Yeah. It was pretty gross.”

“The bathroom?” Dawn knew that Buffy liked a bubble bath or long shower after a day of slayer duties.

Dawn grinned. “Scrubbed. I took a bath though.”

Buffy’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Perfect, Dawnie. Thank you so much.” She headed toward the bathroom but then paused and glanced back at her sister. “How was your day?”

Dawn just wanted Buffy to go forth to her bubbles. The cell phone felt warm against her back side. “It was good. Math final done. Check that one off the list. How was yours?”

Buffy yawned. “Good for you. You’ve really been on top of the school-age. Proud of you. And my day was the same old. Reassuring and educating new slayers and wrangling the old ones into submission. Via phone is hard. But the slayer that’s in-person here is harder.” She rubbed her temple. “I miss. . .” She shook her head. “I miss everyone.”

“Me, too.” This was the closest she came to talking about Spike. Dawn wished she could help her sister open up about it. She didn’t seem depressed or like she was falling apart, but Dawn knew that Buffy had emotions she was holding back. Dawn heard her sister crying in her bedroom more than once in the middle of the night.

Buffy pointed toward the bathroom. “I think the shower’s calling my name. Too tired for a bath.”

“Okay. Good night.” Dawn reached up to turn off the lamp by her head.

“Love you, Dawnie,” Buffy murmured as she entered the bathroom and flipped on the light.

“Love you, too.”

As soon as Buffy shut the door with a soft click and the room was swathed in darkness, Dawn produced the cell phone and jogged it to life, her heart pounding again. There was a message from Her Vampyre. It simply said, “Hi, Pigeon.”

Tears filled her eyes and blurred out his words. The tears rapidly turned to sobs, which she worked hard to keep quiet. She hid the phone back under the blanket. She told herself the hiding was in case Buffy heard her and came back to check on her, but in reality, it was because she was scared to see his words again. Was it really him? What was she going to say back? She couldn’t reply. Not yet. Not until she knew what the hell to say to him.

Dawn pretended to be asleep when Buffy finished showering and peeked in on her one last time before retreating to her bedroom. Then, Dawn laid awake for hours until exhaustion overtook her brain, and she finally drifted into dreams.

* * *

Dawn didn’t look at the cell phone again until the next morning. She’d given herself the day off after the math final, and Buffy had graciously dropped her off at the Galleria with a credit card for lunch and the warning to window shop only. Dawn was older and wiser and knew better than to buck this. . . not completely. They really didn’t have any money to spare, and Giles was still fighting a load of legal red tape to get access to the Watchers’ Council funds. Buying food in the food court was a splurge.

Still, Dawn was determined to enjoy herself and wandered through the halls, gazing into the windows of the closed stores and side-stepping eager elderly mall walkers. She paused for a long time to study the Christmas tree in the ice skating rink. It was only the end of November, but the towering tree was up and decorated in sparkling red, gold, and silver.

The rest of the mall was frosted with holiday trimmings, and though Dawn only ordered an oatmeal and glass of ice water at the Starbucks, she noticed that they were already serving the holiday beverages. She eyed the peppermint hot chocolate on the billboard as she waited for her oatmeal. Then, on impulse, she got back in the line and ordered a grande with whipped cream and extra sprinkles.

After her order came out, she sat at one of the tiny tables and found herself setting aside the oatmeal and studying the hot chocolate. She ran her finger through the whipped cream and then sucked the sweetness off. Taking a tentative sip of the hot drink, she fumbled one-handed in her backpack and pulled out the cell phone.

The message was still there. Whoever was on the other end of the line hadn’t texted again.

She took another sip of the hot chocolate and conjured up the image of Spike in her house in Sunnydale. He always liked the hot chocolate and marshmallows, but most of all, he enjoyed the company of her and her mother when Buffy wasn’t around.

Her fingers found the tiny buttons on the keyboard, and she started typing another message without thinking, “Where are you?” Then, she erased the words and tried again, “Spike, where are you?” Including his name seemed to make it more real, and whoever was on the other end would have no doubt who the message was for. Before she sent the text, she started over a third time, “Spike, it’s Dawn again. Where are you?” She had no idea where he could possibly be. He could even be in another dimension for all she knew. Was there cell service in other dimensions? She wouldn’t be surprised.

She couldn’t let herself go beyond that in text or thought, so she pressed enter and shoved the phone into her depths of her bag. Suddenly tired for some reason she couldn’t elucidate, she sank back in the chair, holding her cup of hot chocolate in both hands.

She was halfway through the hot chocolate (which was now cold from the melted whipped cream) when a muffled ping sounded from her backpack. Her hand moved of its own accord, retrieved the phone, and opened the new message.

“I don’t know if that’s a question I should answer.”

Now she was pissed. What kind of game was he playing? Setting aside her hot chocolate, she fired off, “What the hell does that mean?” Then, she immediately regretted it. The words felt too harsh like the time she promised to set him on fire in his sleep. So, she hastily amended, “Because I care about you, you idiot, and if you’re alive, I want to know.”

The next text came more quickly than the last, and Dawn imagined that he was somewhere out there, holding the phone at the same time she was. “Haven’t been alive in a very long time.”

Dawn emitted a sigh of frustration and rolled her eyes even though he couldn’t hear or see her. “Undead, whatever.”

“You rolled your eyes, didn’t you, Bit?”

She briefly looked around even though she knew it was crazy and that he wasn’t actually there to witness her facial expressions. “No.” Then, she added, “Yes.” When he didn’t reply, she repeated, “Where are you, Spike? Are you here on Earth?”

“What kind of question is that? Of cour” The text abruptly ended mid-word and without punctuation, and then, another text came before she could panic, “Know why you’re asking, and the answer is yes. I’m here. On Earth. In California actually. City of Angels.”

“L.A.? Why?” Dawn’s mind flashed to a time six months ago when Buffy had had a long and tense meeting with Giles, Faith, and Xander regarding goings-on in L.A. Willow had been out of reach, and it had had something to do with Angel. Buffy and crew had allocated several slayers to help out with the situation, but they’d had to focus on another crisis in South America at around the same time – something with bug demons. To her dismay, Dawn had stayed with her father in Spain and felt completely out of the loop.

Spike didn’t respond for a long time, and Dawn stood, tucking the uneaten oatmeal in a sack and then into her backpack. She was standing by the trashcan and about to throw out the remainder of the hot chocolate when the phone beeped again.

She plunked down in the closest chair, her bag strap slipping off her shoulder. Spike’s new message read, “I was helping Angel with the pickle he got himself into.”

Dawn made an incredulous face. “You? Helping Angel?”

“Yeah. Not exactly something you’d expect, right, Bit?”

She raised both eyebrows at the screen and typed, “Um, no. Not in a million years.”

“Angel’s not such a bad bloke nowadays. He grows on you.”

She snickered. “Like what? Mold?”

“Not a zombie, Pigeon.”

She laughed out loud and ducked her head when the older couple nearby glared in her direction. “Ha ha.”

“The city’s still a mess but not as big a mess as I heard Sunnydale is.”

“Sunnydale’s a crater.” Dawn felt anxious for some reason then. She didn’t really know it was Spike on the other end of the line. “How do I know it’s really you and not some demonic force that’s going to suck my brains out through the phone when I go to sleep?”

“You have quite the imagination, Bit, but I understand.” A moment’s pause. “We broke into the Magic Box, and we found out about who you really are. Together.” Another pause and then, “I helped you steal that damned egg from the Ghora demon. And” A longer moment passed. “We hung out all summer after big sis died.” Dawn noticed this was his first mention of Buffy.

She smiled at the memories. “What’d we do that summer?”

“We avoided the Scoobies, Rupert, and the bloody ‘bot like the plague. You made me bake cookies in the middle of the night – only chocolate chip and never oatmeal raisin, and you liked it when I brushed your hair after your shower.” These were all true.

“Why’d you do it?” Dawn had always wondered but never asked. Somehow, the passage of time and the geographical distance made it easier for her to put the question out there.

“Because you needed someone. And it’s not because I promised Buffy.”

Dawn smiled because at the time, she’d felt loved for her. She still did. “I know that you did it for me. I never believed what Xander said.”

“He always did have his head up his ass.”

Dawn giggled and ignored the sighs of dismay. She didn’t care. “Okay, I think I believe you.”

“Was reasonable to ask. Can’t be too careful. Now, Bit, where are you?”

She played coy. “In a shopping mall. Having hot chocolate. Well, it’s cold now.” She realized this made no sense. “The hot chocolate is cold.”

“Miss having hot chocolate with you and your mum.”

This validation that they’d shared something she’d so recently been thinking about made her heart warm. “Me, too.”

“What city?”

Dawn wasn’t sure she should tell him, but she realized that she had to. This was Spike. “Houston.”

“Why the hell are you in Texas?”

She couldn’t get around talking about Buffy. “Buffy has been travelling to different cities all over the world. She helps get the slayer team up and going, and I go with. We spent a long time in Rome, and we’ve been here for a few months.”

There was a long pause, and Dawn waited on pins and needles. Finally, he wrote, “How is she?”

Dawn contemplated how to word her answer. “She’s fine.” She frowned. This was not all she wanted to say.

“Good.”

She dashed out, “But not fine.”

“What do you mean, lil Bit?”

Dawn didn’t really know how Buffy felt because she wasn’t exactly Miss-Shares-a-Lot regarding emotions, but Dawn could infer. Her words came out in a rush and harsher than she intended. “God, Spike, what do you think? She’s sad. Really sad. She doesn’t talk about it, but she is.”

“What’s she sad about?”

The angry feeling that surged up made her clinch her jaw, and she blinked back tears. Dawn tried to decide if the question was Spike being oblivious or uncaring or just plain dumb. She decided on oblivious. “Duh. You. Being gone. Why the hell would you not tell us you came back?” She felt like typing, “I’m hurt, too, you know,” but she didn’t.

An eternity passed while she anticipated his reply.

Then, “I’m sorry I hurt you, Pigeon. It wasn’t my intention.”

Now, the tears spilled over her cheeks, hot and fast, because maybe he wasn’t so obtuse. “Well, you did.”

“We. . . you didn’t exactly. . . I didn’t know how much you cared. And I should have. I’m sorry. I know words don’t mean much.”

Dawn swiped away the tears with the back of her hand and sniffed. “They do, actually. They mean a lot.” She hesitated only a moment and added, “Buffy appreciates words, too.”

“I don’t know about that, Bit. My moment’s passed.”

That’s it. He officially reregistered for his idiot card. “No, it hasn’t. She cries at night over you. You should really talk to her because if she finds out that you’ve been talking with Andrew all this time and even came to Italy without telling us, your moment might as well have passed.”

“How did you get the boy’s phone?”

She bit her lip. “I sort of stole it.”

“Back to the klepto bit again, eh?”

Dawn decided he was teasing. “You know me.”

“But really. How did you figure it out?”

“He left his phone out. He got a text message from ‘Her Vampyre.’” Dawn almost laughed while typing that last part because she could picture Spike’s face when he read her message.

“Bloody hell.”

“And a bunch of other expletives, right?”

“Right.” A few seconds went by. “Do you think she’d even want to see me?”

Dawn knew Buffy would be pissed at her for telling Spike anything, but Dawn was the little sister. Little sisters were supposed to do stuff like this. “Yes. She totally would.” She poked around on the keyboard, searching for the italics button. “I want to see you, too.”

“Does that mean you forgive me?”

Dawn didn’t even have to think about her reply. “Already did a long time ago.” She smiled and added, “Though jury’s out on your latest shenanigans.”

Buffy

When Buffy arrived at the Galleria and finally managed to find a parking spot without having to put up too much of a fight, she noticed that something was different about Dawn. Her sister was very cheerful, more cheerful than Buffy had known her to be in days. No, more like weeks. Dawn tucked her hand in the crook of Buffy’s arm and dragged her to the ice skating rink to see the Christmas tree and then to the Cheesecake Factory where she insisted they have lunch together.

After they split a lunch portion of the Asian chicken salad, Buffy ordered a slice of white chocolate raspberry cheesecake to share. As they took small bites of the decadent dessert, Dawn chattered on about the holiday season and the spirit of giving.

“You do realize we don’t have money for presents, right?” Buffy hated reminding her sister of their lack of funds. Most of the time, she hoped that Giles would figure out the financial situation before her two credit cards were maxed out. At least, Giles’s name was on the accounts, too, so she wasn’t alone with the burden. Her Watcher was paying her, Willow, and Xander’s bills out of his own funds, which Buffy tried not to feel guilty about. They were all working incredibly hard.

“I know that,” Dawn said, still with the exuberance. “But we should do something to celebrate even if it’s small. Like buy a little Charlie Brown-type Christmas tree or something. Mom would want us to, especially now that we’re not in imminent crisis.”

Buffy found herself smiling at their mother’s insistence that they always mark the holidays with something special. “You’re right. How’s your day off been so far?”

Dawn licked a trace of cheesecake off her fork. “So relaxing. I mostly window shopped and treated myself to a hot chocolate. Best idea I’ve had in ages. You should try it sometime. The day off part, that is.”

Buffy noticed that her sister’s words came out a little too fast. She was definitely hiding something. Not wanting to disturb the moment, Buffy decided not to call her on it. “Maybe I should.”

“How was your day so far?” More eye contact avoid-age.

Buffy followed the obvious deflection, “Same old. Claudia is still being a diva. You’d think she’d be a little bit humble about her calling.” The Houston slayer was extremely demanding despite her humble background. What was it with slayers like Claudia and Faith?

Dawn smirked. “You should just leave her alone in the cemetery one night.”

Buffy remembered when she and Spike shut all the little girls in the crypt with the vampire in Sunnydale. A small smile played about her lips. “Maybe I should.”

“Want me to talk with her?” Buffy knew that Dawn could tell her a thing or two about the slaying business and the danger therein. Maybe the girl would listen to someone closer to her age.

Buffy sighed and poked her fork at the mound of whipped cream. “I don’t know. I’m considering having Giles assign different slayers here. Claudia belongs somewhere else and not in a city the size of Houston.”

“I thought she grew up here.”

“She did, but she can’t handle the intensity and scope of slaying in the city. I’m thinking she might need a small town with only a few cemeteries.”

“Houston needs like three slayers.” Dawn took a sip of water.

Houston was really sprawling. “Three at the very least.”

A light shone in Dawn’s eyes. “Let me try. I’ll suggest a sleepover at her place. Give you a night off.” To Buffy’s surprise, Dawn touched her hand. “You need a night off. It’ll be like. . . like your Christmas present.”

Buffy studied Dawn’s face. Her little sister was serious. “All right, but let me talk to her first.”

Dawn grinned. “Deal.” Then, she took a huge bite of cheesecake.

“Hey! Thought we were savoring it.”

“Savoring, schmavoring.”

* * *

After another week of Claudia’s constant complaints, Buffy took Dawn up on her offer and agreed to take an evening off. As soon as Buffy drove Dawn to the slayer’s apartment and said slayer opened her mouth, Dawn not-so-surreptitiously widened her eyes at Buffy. Then, with a set of her jaw, Dawn virtually pushed Buffy out the door, waving off Buffy’s silent offer to leave.

Buffy stared at the closed door for a moment and then heard the lock slide into place. A weight slowly lifted off her shoulders, and she smiled.

The drive home was leisurely, the sunset painting the sky in brilliant streaks of pinks and oranges. She even stopped at the grocery store around the corner for a pint of pistachio almond. She surprisingly liked the Bluebell. It was the right-colored green and wasn’t skimpy on the nuts.

Minutes later, she entered the quiet apartment, dropping her keys on the table by the door and her bag on the end table by the sofa. Swinging the plastic bag in a jaunty little way, she headed to the kitchen, intent on stowing her ice cream in the freezer and then taking a long shower, preferably until the hot water ran out because she didn’t have to worry about saving any for her sister or Andrew.

She was about to shut the freezer when a bright color caught her eye from the direction of the dining area. Slowly turning, she saw a red gift bag on the oak surface. Her eyebrows moving together, she approached the large bag, running her fingers over the curled ribbon on the handles. The tag read, “Open me. This is not a Christmas present. Love, Dawn.” The “not” was underlined three times.

Buffy smiled again, and she pulled the tissue out and set it aside, peering inside. She discovered a small jar of what turned out to be some sort of probably-expensive bubble bath that was a swirly mix of blue and green. It supposedly smelled like lavender. Interesting.

Buffy reached in for the next item and drew out what at first glance seemed to be a bottle of wine. She immediately felt a mix of anger and worry, but then, she read the label and breathed out a sigh of relief. Dawn had purchased a bottle of nonalcoholic wine. Now, Buffy snorted in amusement.

Her hand found the final item, which was merely a slip of paper. She recognized Dawn’s writing again before she even unfolded the creased note.

“Dear Buffy,
Enjoy the bubble bath and faux-wine. (It’s the best I could do given that I’m under 21 and no longer a klepto.) I want you to enjoy this evening. You get so few lately. Once you run your bath and pour yourself a glass, I need you to text the number below. I love you!
Love,
Dawn”

Buffy was thoroughly confused by this message. She stared at the number Dawn had written. Buffy wished she could call Dawn, but her sister didn’t have a cell phone anymore. (Buffy would have to remedy that and soon.) Claudia had a cell, but Buffy didn’t know the number. Damn.

Buffy stood next to the dining table for a long time, chewing her lower lip. Then, she decided that maybe she shouldn’t waste her evening being broody, uncertain girl.

Scooping up the bubble bath, she entered the bathroom and started the water in the large garden tub. The jets didn’t work anymore, and Buffy didn’t have time to wait around for maintenance, so they’d remained inert. She kept meaning to ask Dawn to do it and promptly forgetting.

Mental note written, Buffy perched on the edge of the tub and focused on the steady stream of water, adjusting the temperature until it was just right. Then, she unscrewed the jar of bubble bath and poured half of it into the flow. The bubbles sprang up and quickly infiltrated the water until they formed a thick layer over the clear liquid. The scent of lavender filled the small space.

She stood and shed her clothing before adjusting the light in the bathroom to the dimmest setting. Then, relishing the freedom, she walked naked through the apartment to the kitchen to pour the “wine.” Full glass in hand, she re-entered the living room to head back to the bathroom. Halfway there, she hesitated and then retrieved Dawn’s note and her cell phone.

Buffy’s heart rate picked up for some unknown reason, and she tried not to examine the reasons why too closely. Instead, she found her way into the now deep water and slid down into the tub, allowing the fluid and bubbles to slip over her shoulders like a warm blanket.

She laid there with her eyes closed, hair half-immersed, for several minutes until the bathtub was completely full. Turning off the faucet with her foot and shaking the water off one hand, she picked up her phone and stared at the damp note underneath. She didn’t recognize the number, but then again, she really didn’t know any numbers anymore. Her head was too filled with other important life details that she kept forgetting.

“Dawnie, this better not be linked to some magic spell,” Buffy murmured. That said, she wiped her other hand on the towel hanging from the rack over her head. Adding the number to her phone, she typed a simple message, “Hello?”

When nothing immediately happened and her world didn’t explode, she set the phone aside and took a sip of the grape juice. She tried to pretend the beverage had alcohol in it, but that was a massive fail. She sighed. Not that she liked alcohol anyway.

A few minutes passed and then her phone beeped. Buffy didn’t generally text anyone, so the unfamiliar trill startled her.

Not bothering to sit up, she dried off both hands again, bubbles running down her arms. Then, she opened the message.

“Who is this?”

A flash of annoyance flitted through her. Well, hello to you, too. She was just doing what she was told. “Who are you?”

“You must have the wrong number.”

She frowned and remained vague in her next text. “Actually, no. I was told to text this number.”

“By who?”

Not wanting to name names, Buffy replied, “By my sister.” She held onto the phone this time, but there was no reply for what felt like an ocean of time.

Then, the next message took her breath away. “Slayer?”

No one called her that except for one person. Well, a lot of vampires called her that, but they were usually in cemeteries, and they certainly weren’t dragging cell phones out of their grave and texting her. She sat up, water rushing over her body with the abrupt motion. She honestly felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest, and she almost gasped but didn’t.

It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t.

He was dead. She’d seen him start to disintegrate in that cavern in Sunnydale when she told him that she loved him and he didn’t believe her. Her stomach churned with acid. She thought she might throw up.

Fingers trembling, she typed one word, “Spike?”

Then, she began criticizing herself and thinking that she’d completely lost it and was crazy-cakes. Might as well buy her a one-way ticket back to the asylum.

There was no response, so she hurriedly wrote the next message before she chickened out. “Dawn gave me this number. Who are you really? It’s not funny. Really not funny.”

As soon as Buffy pushed enter, she realized that Dawn wouldn’t do this to her because she knew how much Spike meant to her. . . didn’t she? Buffy swallowed past the lump in her throat. She hadn’t really talked with Dawn about it, not since Sunnydale and L.A. when Giles was documenting what happened and they were all in mourning for various reasons.

“Oh, pet. I’m so sorry you found out this way.”

Buffy’s anxiety was so high that her stomach heaved then, and she scrambled out of the tub and slipped on the tile, catching herself on the edge of the toilet where she proceeded to throw up the juice she just drank. The sobs came rolling in as soon as her stomach was empty, and she sank back against the wall with her head in her hands. She cried until she could cry no more, and then, her cell rang, the old-fashioned phone ringtone strident on her ears. The phone switched over to voicemail, and she was grateful for the quiet.

Then, as soon as she felt like she could breathe again, the tone resounded again. Her fingers scrabbling for the device that had landed on the bathmat, she pushed the green symbol to answer the call.

She slowly put the phone to her ear and waited.

His familiar voice was deep and gentle, “Buffy? Pet?” She hiccupped into the receiver. “This is why I didn’t reach out before.”

The tears flowed freely again, hot and swift, over her cheeks. Anger flared anew. “What is why?” Her voice cracked on the “why.” Too weak sounding. Her brain feeling heavy, she shifted the words around, forcing them to sound clearer and stronger, “Explain the why, Spike.”

There was a long silence and then, Spike replied, “There were a lot of reasons. One of which was not wanting to upset you.”

“Oh, you think I’m upset, do you?” she retorted, sounding more hurt than pissed. Damn it.

“Yeah but – ”

“No buts. H-how long?”

“How long wh –?”

“Since you’ve been back. How long?” She hugged her knees to her chest. She’d never felt so exposed. More questions spilled out before she could stop them, “Where are you? What happened? Are you hurt? Why didn’t you come find us?” She meant her and Dawn.

“I didn’t think –”

She kept cutting him off, but she didn’t care. “Damn right, you didn’t think. I love you, you asshole.”

The connection went dead as Spike ended the call, and Buffy’s heart shattered. She thought her heart was broken before, but she really had no concept of how much damage it could take. She threw the phone. It landed with a soft splash in the bath water. She didn’t care. She sat there unmoving, her heart feeling like someone had stabbed it with a crudely-carved stake, splinters haphazardly digging their way into her flesh.

There was a soft knock on the door, but her muscles wouldn’t work. She had no energy to stand, much less put clothes on the way a person did when he or she answered the door.

The knock became more insistent, and Buffy worried about the neighbors complaining. She and Dawn couldn’t afford to lose their apartment, especially so close to Christmas.

Bracing herself on the wall, Buffy stood on wobbly, coltish legs, a wave of dizziness giving her pause. Then, she snagged her fluffy robe off the back of the bathroom door and haphazardly tied it on. She gained strength as she approached the source of the knocking and threw open the door with hopelessness in her heart.

Spike was standing there dressed all in black sans his duster, his hair the same bleached shock as always, his blue eyes bright with worry and sadness. She almost slammed the door in his face, but then, she noticed the tears on his cheeks. That broke her will, and another sob escaped her lips before she could stop it.

“Please invite me in, love.” He looked so defenseless and helpless standing there on the other side of the invisible barrier that was between them.

Her words came out in a whisper, “Come in, Spike.”

He immediately gathered her up in his arms, and she crashed against him before wrapping her arms around him so tightly that he grunted. He swung the door closed behind him and locked it, and they slid to the ground in a heap. She snuggled closer to him, her head tucked under his chin, and he held onto her, stroking the length of her back with one hand.

They stayed that way for an indeterminable amount of time.

Then, Buffy found her voice, “If you were here, why were you acting so weird earlier?”

“What do you mean?” He brushed a half-dry, half-wet strand of hair off her forehead where it was covering one of her eyes.

“When I texted you, you were acting like you didn’t know it was me.”

“S’pose I was afraid.”

Buffy could hear the slight edge of uncertainty in his voice, and she chose levity, lifting her head up to raise both eyebrows at him. “You? Afraid?”

“Of course. Not much scares me anymore ‘cept how vulnerable I feel with you.”

“Me either,” she admitted, laying her head on his chest again. She liked the solid weight of him beneath her. It made him more tangible and real.

“I’ve been with Angel.”

This surprised her. . . the fact that one of his first sentences to her after so long was about her ex. “With Angel?”

“At first, it was because I couldn’t leave. I was a bit of a ghostie.”

She decided to go with whatever direction he wanted to lead her. “A ghost? Wait. How did you come back?” She stroked his forearm. Still solid.

He leaned his cheek on her warmer forehead. “Turned out I was trapped in the bloody amulet. I honestly think it was meant for Angel.”

Buffy considered this. “Makes sense.”

“And Angel’s crew tried to help me become corporeal again, only it was a dismal failure. I was stuck being go-through-able and unable to leave L.A. until one day a package arrived and poof! I was myself again.”

The hurt rose again but less sharply than before. “And yet, you still didn’t call or come find us.”

Spike held her closer but remained quiet. “I’m sorry, pet. I had a lot of reasons, but now that I’m here with you, they all seem – ”

Buffy couldn’t help but interrupt him again, “Ridiculous?”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling in her ear. “Yeah.”

She hit him lightly on his mid-section. “I was a mess without you. No one knew it. . .” She considered something, “except maybe Dawn. I’m good at hiding things as you know. But I grieved for you every day. I-I didn’t count the days like you did, but every day without you was a weight on my heart. I couldn’t get the image of you out of my head. . . of you dying.” His words echoed in her mind, “Every night I save you.” Her heart ached at the irony of their two positions, so she said, “We lost each other.”

He pushed his hand up under hers and laced their fingers together. “But we found our way back again.” With his other hand, he rubbed the tension out of her arm. “I-I was afraid that if I came to you, you wouldn’t want me around. Maybe you would be ready for me to not be there, and I would go because that’s what you needed.”

Buffy realized in that moment that she still held his heart in her hands, the way she always had, but she was grateful because this time, he had hers, too. She shifted slightly, so she could see his eyes again. “I’m never not going to want you to be here.” She kissed him then, and his familiar, responsive lips slid tenderly over hers. She felt like she had found her way home. Not letting herself get completely lost – not yet, she turned more to face him more fully, relishing the movement of his hands over her hips. With her legs loose around his waist, she held his face her hands, her thumb running over his cooler skin. “Stay? Please.”

His blue eyes were lit with love but not the disbelief that used to linger when she was nice to him in times gone by. “As you wish, pet.”

Buffy nuzzled his nose with hers. “We have a lot to catch up on. But for now, I just have one question.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. “What’s that, love?”

“How did Dawn find you?”

Dawn

When Buffy told Dawn that Claudia was a whiner, Dawn didn’t know what to believe. She’d gone through her own phase that she still cringed about if she thought about it too hard. But honestly, nothing took the cake like Claudia. Dawn knew that Buffy needed the time with Spike, but holy geez, she didn’t know how much longer she could stand it.

Claudia whined about how Houston was way too humid, how slaying didn’t allow her to get her beauty rest, how her boyfriend wasn’t a good kisser, how her clothes were always dirty, and how Buffy was exasperating. That was the word she used: “exasperating.” Talk about pot calling the kettle black.

When Claudia brought up Buffy in negative terms, Dawn literally felt like she might scream at the slayer, so she excused herself and locked herself in the bathroom for way longer than anyone actually had to use the restroom even if they were sick.

“Dawn? Are you coming out?” Claudia asked at one point, petulance in her tone.

In reply, Dawn dropped some raisins into the toilet and made some moaning sounds. (Claudia only had oatmeal raisin cookies, and Dawn hated raisins, so she’d picked them out.) She hoped raisin-plopping was gross enough that Claudia would leave her alone. Dawn heard Claudia gagging and held back a giggle. Once the slayer was gone, Dawn sat on the cool tiles with her back on the wooden cabinets.

She opened up her history book and thought of Spike because her online class was covering 19th century British history. She smiled, hoping that Buffy asked him to stay. If he did, Dawn hoped that she could ask him how things actually were during the time period he grew up. She had a feeling it was way different than what was portrayed in the books. She was also interested in what Spike was like as a human. What had his family been like? She had no idea. The only thing she could think was that they were probably decent people. He learned how to be nurturing somewhere, and it certainly wasn’t from Drusilla. . . or Darla or Angel, for that matter.

Before she got too bogged down in the reading, Andrew’s phone beeped in her bag and then it beeped again two more times in rapid succession.

Dawn retrieved the phone and jogged it on before the annoying slayer could come nose around and see what was up.

There were three text messages.

One was from an unknown number, and two were from “Her Vampyre.”

Dawn smiled and opened the ones from “Her Vampyre” first. “Little Bit, all is good here.” A later text read, “Do you mind staying there for the evening?” Earlier, Spike had been nervous and asked her to come home just in case things were rough with Buffy. Now, he’d apparently changed his mind. Well, crap. Crappity crap. Dawn might have hide in the bathroom all night. Maybe there were towels she could use to make the bathtub a little softer and more comfy?

Before she responded to Spike, she checked the message from the unknown caller. It read, “Dawn! It’s Andrew!!!!! Do you have my phone?!?!? It’s an EMERGENCY. Do not! I repeat: DO NOT look at any of the messages!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Dawn laughed but tried to muffle the sound in her sleeve. Too late, Andrew.

Claudia stomped over. Damn it. “Dawn? Are you feeling better? I heard you laughing or something!”

Dawn groaned and tried to turn her aggravation into a sound of sickness. “Ohhhh.”

The slayer left again and quickly.

Then, Dawn turned back to the message from Andrew. She decided to ignore it. Instead, she texted Spike back, “Um, I really don’t think I can stay here any longer. Please? Tell Buffy. She’ll understand.”

There was a long period of silence in which Dawn stared at the screen and willed Spike to text her back. Then, he did.

“On our way. Buffy said to say she’s sorry.”

Dawn let out a rush of air in relief. “OMG. Thank you!”

“Heard the slayer there is right annoying.”

“Oh yeah. Major understatement.”

“Pigeon, can I ask you something?”

Dawn smiled. “Anything.”

“Mind if I stay with you birds for a while?”

Dawn let out a whoop of happiness and jumped up, doing a little jig in a circle and not caring how loud she was. Then, a bit out of breath, she smiled at herself in the mirror. She texted back, “Staying is of the good.”

The end.