Spike pulled up in front of the Summers residence at a quarter to midnight. The car rolled smoothly to a halt and he unbuckled his seatbelt before slumping down in the chair and burying his face in his hands. He stayed like that for a moment, letting the tension of the long day leech out of his muscles sluggishly. He scrubbed his hands tiredly over his face and ran them through his hair, undoing the rigid hold of the gel so it flipped into its natural curls.
Sighing, he pushed the door open and heaved himself out, giving the DeSoto a last affectionate pat before closing the door behind him. He was unsurprised to see a lone light on downstairs, though he stopped short when Dawn opened the door for him, her face pale and her eyes downcast. She blinked tiredly at him, a deep relief seeming to drain the energy from her body so that she suddenly looked beyond exhausted. Frowning, he crouched to match her height, but she stepped back and avoided his eyes.
“‘Bit?” He saw something, some wistful trace of a smile, flicker across her lips art the name, but she didn’t reply. “C’mon pidge, tell me what’s up. Where’s Dru?”
“She’s staying the night at Harmony’s.” Her voice was little more than a whisper and she still wouldn’t look at him. He gently lifted two cool fingers underneath her chin and raised her face, noticing the sore redness of her eyes. Something cold tightened in his belly, icy tendrils of fear uncurling in his body as his gut churned. He swallowed, willing away the roughness of his voice.
“Where’s Buffy? How come you’re down here on your own?”
Fear now, dancing across her tired little face and darkening her eyes as they dipped away to look over his shoulder, anywhere but at him. “Buffy’s in bed. I had to wait up for you.”
He smiled to reassure her, giving an inner sigh of relief when she began to relax and her eyes met his again. He kept his voice soft, affectionate. “You didn’t need to stay up ‘til this time, Nibblet. I’ll take you up to bed and we’ll go check on Buffy, yeah? Make sure big sis is okay before we go to sleep.”
Spike was surprised when she suddenly tensed again, her eyes welling up as she backed up. She shook her head, looking down and twisting her little fingers together. To see her so agitated pulled at the William in him, his heart contracting painfully when a single tear ran down her face and fell onto her hands. He frowned, his instinct telling him to stay low, to stay on her level and he heeded it; it was that intuition that made him such a good psychologist.
Her voice shook as she spoke, her face calm and only her eyes showing the depths of her misery. “Buffy’s asleep. You can’t see her.”
He smiled, watching her carefully for her reaction. “We’ll be quiet as mice, pet. Promise.”
She shook her head firmly, long hair flying in all directions. When she looked up at him, finally meeting his eyes, she looked as stubborn as he’d ever seen her. “No. I won’t let you.”
He put up his hands in surrender, ignoring his protesting limbs as he rose to his feet and held out a hand in invitation. She hesitated for a moment, glancing around furtively before taking it. He smiled and bent, scooping her effortlessly into his arms. She didn’t say anything, merely snuggled into his neck and clutched his shirt. He felt a tender warmth welling in him, even as the professional part of his mind kicked in with a warning.
A twelve-year-old girl wouldn’t normally let themselves be treated like a child of eight or nine without a fuss, but Dawn had seemed to enjoy the attention, crave more of it. Was it the lack of a parental authority figure when she was growing up? Had she never been given the opportunity of being pampered and babied? He stroked a hand over her head, hearing her heavy, rhythmic breathing. Poor thing, she’s exhausted. Spike carried her into her room, gently settling her on the bed while he unfolded the pyjamas that had been neatly stowed under her pillow.
He shook her gently and she murmured in objection. With a muffled grunt, she snatched the nightclothes from him and he dutifully turned around, waiting for her to finish dressing before coming over and pulling the thick duvet up over her body. He settled it under her chin, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. She smiled drowsily, her whole face lighting up with contentment so pure it was almost painful to behold.
He rose, padding quietly to the door. He turned, giving her a soft smile and a low whisper. “Night ‘Bit.”
“Night Spike.” Her voice was already heavy with sleep and as he watched, her eyes closed and her breathing evened out as she surrendered herself to sleep.
Exiting the room, he closed the door behind him and paused. Stepping over the creaky floorboard with a triumphant smirk of satisfaction, he went towards his room. He was about to pass Buffy’s bedroom when he noticed the faint light spilling from underneath the doorway. Frowning, he knocked on the door, then knocked again when it didn’t open immediately.
“Buffy?” He kept his voice low so as not to wake Dawn, but something in his tone must have gotten to the teenager, because the door opened a crack and one brilliantly green eye appeared to him. Her voice was quiet and almost fearful.
“I’m sorry, did you need something?”
He put a hand on the door and gently pushed. Buffy, surprised when the door began to swing inwards, jumped. He took advantage of the moment when the door was unguarded, stepping carefully into her room. She looked down, seeming to shrink into herself as she cringed back, turning her face away. He frowned, reaching out and gently turning her to face him. His hand fell limply to his side as he saw what she’d been hiding.
****
Buffy tried not to groan when she heard the knock on her door. She knew who it was, could almost feel him through the door, but the sting of his rejection, only worsened by Dru’s attack on them, was still strong. Momentarily defiant, she ignored the tapping on her door. When he knocked again, louder and more persistently this time, she wrapped herself in a hug, her face draining of its colour as she realised that he might tell her sister about her ignoring him. What if he needed something and complained to Dru when he didn’t get it?
Biting her lip, she rushed as silently as she could to the door and pulled it open a crack. Peering through, she tried not to catch her breath at the sight of him. He looked tired, his face pale and his eyes heavy-lidded with fatigue, but his hair formed soft curls and his lips were pulled upwards into a soothing smile. He was gorgeous. He leaned slightly to one side and, mesmerised by his beautiful eyes, she didn’t notice the movement until the door swung towards her. She jumped back, turning away, ashamed of the blatant reminder of her weakness.
She winced inwardly when her head was gently pulled around. Keeping her eyes averted, she pushed her arms behind her back and gripped the new cut hard enough to reopen it. The pain cleared her mind of the panic and shame it had been wallowing in and she looked up to meet his gaze.
He was staring at her cheek, and she knew he had a good reason. The side of her face from her eye to the corner of her mouth was a mottled bruise, blue-black in the center and slowly lightening to red around the edges. Buffy wished she could say that it looked worse than it felt, but it didn’t. The swollen skin felt tight and hot over her cheekbone and any attempt at smiling made the affected area throb painfully. Her eye was swollen half shut, limiting her visibility. She was just glad that the bruising had spread enough to cover the tell-tale finger marks she’d thought would be evident on her cheek.
Braving another look up at him, she almost whimpered in fear, shrinking back away from him and jerking her chin from his grasp. His eyes were almost black with anger, his jaw rigid as his pulse pounded, a vein in his temple writhing in response. She took a careful step back, waiting for the cutting voice, the cruel put-downs. The heated venom in his tone, however, was obviously not directed at her, and she looked up, confused.
“Who did this to you?”
She gulped. His eyes bored into her and she knew she couldn’t lie outright, but maybe she could bend the truth a little. “It’s alright. I just jumped…” in front of Dawn to stop this from happening to her “…and ran into something.” Dru’s hand. She waited a moment before trying a tiny, hesitant smile, careful not to move anything but one corner of her mouth. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”
She could see the suspicion in his eyes and she straightened, brushing back a strand of hair with a nonchalance she didn’t feel. If he found out about Dru’s abuse… He’d leave again, and then we’d have nothing to protect us. She found a bitter irony in the situation. In order to shield Dawnie from the worst of her sister’s punishment, she had to suffer the torture of seeing Dru and Spike together, day in day out. It pained her that someone as cruel and twisted as her sister would end up with someone as good and benevolent as Spike, but she would do anything to save Dawn any more pain.
She was drawn from her thoughts when the platinum blonde gently traced a finger down her injured cheek, the touch so light it didn’t even twinge. She froze as heat raced from his fingertip against her skin down through her body, flooding her with the unfamiliar burn of desire. She pulled away, frantically trying to hide the flush rising to her cheeks. When she looked up again, he was giving her a strange look, a mixture of anger and lust and something more.
He nodded perfunctorily and turned his back on her, his muscles tight with tension. He began to stride from the room, stopping abruptly in the doorway. He looked back over his shoulder, catching her off guard, her defences lowered. For a moment their eyes met in silent communication, his desperately hoping to ease her pain, hers heavy and dull with the knowledge that in order to let him help, she had to shut him out.
She turned away, waiting for the soft click of the door to announce his exit before collapsing back on the bed. She remembered his soul-searching gaze and the desire to help revealed there. She tossed and turned for what felt like hours but was only minutes, his beautiful, sad eyes staying ever-present in her mind and then haunting her dreams in her fitful moments of restless peace. Sleep didn’t come easy that night.
Spike paced back and forth in his room, hearing faintly the continuous rustling from Buffy’s room next door. He remembered the fear he’d seen on her face when he’d seen her bruise, the sheer, animal terror that had flashed across her face when he realised he’d overhead her telephone conversation with Willow. It was a look that he never wanted to see on her face again, especially if it was directed at him. Fierce anger filled him, bubbling resentfully next to his festering frustration. He was missing something, but what?
Sighing, he shook his head before rolling it, cracking his neck. He was too tired to figure anything out tonight. He dimly remembered to strip down to his boxers before sliding between the cool, silky sheets. His body relaxed into a wonderfully soft mattress and he closed his eyes with a groan of relief, but his head buzzed with questions. He tossed and turned for what felt like hours but was only minutes, her beautiful, pained eyes staying ever-present in his mind and then haunting his dreams in his fitful moments of restless peace. Sleep didn’t come easy that night.
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