“Buffy?” Dawn’s voice was increasingly uncertain, bordering on actual fear, when neither of the two adults in the room seemed inclined to answer her questions. “What’s going on? You guys are really starting to scare me.”
Her deep searching eyes met Spike’s – and he had to look away.
He wanted to ease her fears, to tell her that everything was all right – but he knew that she would see through that lie in an instant. He wanted to tell her everything – but knew that it was far too much for a girl her age to be expected to take in. And it was not as if she could actually do anything about it, anyway. And that was not even considering the reaction Buffy might have if he dared to reveal the secret to anyone else, especially her little sister.
But then – it was odd that Dawn’s presence seemed to have brought a sudden halt to Buffy’s out of control rage, instantly bringing her back to herself. It was possible that the simple fact that her little sister was present had been a call back to reality for the Slayer, who would certainly not want Dawnie to see the violence and disturbing darkness of her recent behavior.
Or – it was possible that it was something more.
“Spike?” Dawn pressed, calling him back to the current moment, and out of his pensive wonderings.
He opened his mouth to respond before remembering that he had absolutely no idea how – then closed it again, shaking his head and looking away.
After one more look between the two silent warriors, Dawn crossed her arms over her chest and let out a little huff of frustration. “Fine!” she snapped. “Don’t tell me anything! Spike’s hurt, and you’re both obviously pretty freaked – but neither one of you can think of anything to say? Come on, I’m not a child, you know! Pardon me for caring!”
Spike wanted to stop her as she stalked toward the stairs, and not only because she seemed to be the stabilizing factor that was keeping Buffy from smacking the crap out of him at the moment. Dawn was his friend, and he hated to leave her thinking that he was deliberately shutting her out.
But as far as Buffy knew, they were virtual strangers, and it would not seem to be his place to call after her, to attempt to stop her angry retreat.
That was Buffy’s place.
“Dawnie,” she called weakly, not really wanting her sister to respond. Like Spike, she had absolutely no idea how to begin to explain what was going on. And to her relief, Dawn did not respond, just continued up the stairs. A moment later the sound of her bedroom door slamming was heard.
There was a heavy moment of silence between them, neither knowing what to say in the wake of the evening’s events.
“Spike,” Buffy finally said, in a hesitant, heavy voice.
“Don’t,” Spike cut her off, his voice low and trembling, his eyes still downcast, avoiding her gaze. After a moment, he clarified softly, “Don’t say you’re sorry, Buffy. If you say it every time, you’ll be saying it for the rest of your life.”
It was not the note of sarcasm, but the flat resignation in his voice that stung her. “No,” she objected, moving cautiously toward him, stopping suddenly when he backed away from her, still without looking at her. Deliberately softening her voice, ignoring the guilty pang that struck her at his apprehensive actions, Buffy repeated firmly, “No. It’s not going to always be like this. We’re going to find a way to stop it…”
“Not if you keep lying to them, Buffy. Not if you – this – this *other* you – keeps trying to sabotage any source of help you might have,” Spike protested, finally raising his eyes to meet hers, troubled and serious. “And that’s what you did in there, tonight, Buffy. They wanted to help you, and you tried to sabotage it.”
“I did not…”
“Yes, you bloody well did!” he snapped, his voice trembling with anger. “Anytime Anya or I tried to tell them anything useful, you tried to shut us up!”
“Well, excuse me if I don’t want the whole world knowing about this!” Buffy shot back, her own eyes blazing with angry tears. “Forgive me if I don’t feel like announcing to all my friends that I had sex with you – that I *bit* you! Excuse me if I don’t feel like sharing how now I can’t be around you for five seconds without wanting to just…”
Her words broke off abruptly, as her emotions overwhelmed her. She looked away, shaking her head, but not before he saw the clear look of shame in her eyes.
It was more than he could take. He wanted to tell her that if that was how she felt, if she was so bloody ashamed of him, of having any sort of desire or feelings for him, then he would just make her happy and leave. He could do without the threats and the beatings and the general all around misery that went along with her claim, if that was what she wanted!
But he couldn’t.
Because in spite of it all – he simply could not bring himself to leave her.
“Look,” Buffy said in a quiet voice of exhaustion. “I can’t do this. I – I’m just going to go to bed. You can sleep on the couch – or wherever. I don’t care, just make yourself comfortable. But I just can’t deal with this right now. I’m so tired I can’t even think straight…”
*Yeah, ‘cause you were up all bloody night shaggin’ me senseless…*
The words were spoken only in his head, but Buffy’s explanation suddenly cut off, her mouth setting in a hard line of repressed anger. She turned suddenly and headed for the stairs without another word – and he was stunned at the desolate, bereft feeling that came over him with her unspoken dismissal.
He barely had time to register it before she was suddenly back, frighteningly close, pressing in close to him so that he quickly backpedaled into the door, his heart in his throat with fear at her unexpected nearness.
But he realized the next moment that this was still Buffy. She was still in control of herself, just deadly serious, as she reached a hand to press down on the mark on his throat, giving him that odd sensation he had felt a few times before that was not pleasure, not pain – simply a powerful pressure that demanded his attention to her.
“You will not leave this house,” she ordered quietly, firmly, with unquestionable authority – but there was no threat in her words. “And you will not touch my sister. I am not possessed, I am not out of control at the moment, but I am telling you, if you even think of hurting Dawn, I will find the slowest possible method of staking, and I will use it on you. Is that clear?”
Okay – definite threat that time.
Her command had carried the weight of her claim, and he could not have disobeyed it if he had wanted to – but it hurt him that she thought he might want to.
Of course, reason dictated that she had no reason to think otherwise. She knew nothing of the secret friendship that he had carried on with her mother and sister over the past few months. All she knew that he was a dangerous, currently unchipped master vampire who had only a couple of weeks ago attempted to kill her and her best friend. For all she knew, the emphatic command she had just given him was the only thing keeping him from hurting the vulnerable little girl upstairs.
She had no way of knowing how far from the truth that really was, he reminded himself.
Still – it hurt.
“I wouldn’t,” he said quietly, his voice low and his eyes averted in a struggle not to show his emotions. “I would never…” His words trailed off, as he was unable to go on.
But Buffy understood – or thought she did. It made sense to her that if the claim made him care for her, it might extend to those dear to her, at least in so far as to keep him from attempting to harm them. But she was not going to gamble with Dawn’s life, on that educated guess.
“Just making sure,” she said with unusual gentleness, as she released him, regarding him with a solemn sadness for a moment before returning to the stairs, and disappearing up them. A moment later, he heard her bedroom door quietly shut.
Feeling sad, afraid, and utterly alone, Spike walked into the living room and sat down slowly on the edge of the sofa, leaning forward with his head in his hands. He was trapped, completely and hopelessly. An eternal trap, from which there was no escape.
*What the bleedin’ hell am I going to do?* he wondered with a sense of despair.
Suddenly, he felt a light, soft touch on his shoulder, and jumped, startled, wondering even as he looked up to see the person who had touched him, why he had not been aware of the girl’s approach.
*Careful, mate,* he reprimanded himself grimly. *No matter how bad things get, won’t do to get that distracted.*
Dawn sat down beside him, her eyes focused on his with a calm concern that made her seem far more mature than her fourteen years. “Okay,” she said in a casual, matter-of-fact voice. “So how about you tell me what the heck is going on here?”
Automatically Spike’s eyes turned toward the stairs where he had last seen Buffy, anxious and a bit hesitant.
“Don’t worry,” Dawn assured him with a knowing smile. “Her Bitchiness has gone to bed. Her door’s locked and her radio’s on, and I’m pretty sure she won’t be coming out again tonight.”
Spike cocked an eyebrow at her in surprise at her perception.
“Come on,” she laughed softly. “I’m not stupid. You wanted to tell me before, didn’t you? But she didn’t want you to. Well, she’s gone now, and I won’t be telling her anything. So spill.”
“Sorry, pet,” he acknowledged the accuracy of her assessment with an apologetic little grimace. “ ‘S just that she’s pretty serious about nobody knowing about this. If she were to find out…”
Dawn’s eyes widened with stunned realization, quickly shifting to horror, as she took in his already nearly healed split lip, and the dark bruises that had faded some even since she had first seen them.
“Spike – did *Buffy* do that?” she asked in a hushed whisper of indignation and disbelief.
He looked away from her, suddenly uncomfortable. He shrugged too casually, as he replied evasively, “Not – not *Buffy* exactly…See, that’s the thing, pet. Your sis has got a – a bit of a problem. She’s not exactly herself lately. Not since – well – something happened, pet…”
“You two boinked each other,” Dawn stated flatly, without a hint of surprise. “Right?”
Now it was Spike’s turn to experience disbelieving horror. “Observant is one thing, but that’s just bloody scary, Niblet…how did you…?”
“I was listening at the top of the stairs,” she admitted readily without a trace of guilt. “So you two did it, and she liked it so much that now she wants it all the time – got that,” she went on, oblivious to the increasing dismay of the vampire beside her. “I mean, if it was me…” Her voice broke off, her eyes widening slightly before she attempted to recover, “…if I’d just done it with…with someone I really liked…I’m sure I’d like it, and – and wanna do it some more, too…because, you know…”
“Dawn!” Spike finally found the strength to protest. When she gave him an expectant, questioning look, he went on in a slightly shaken voice, “If I’m going to tell you this – it’s gonna be on one bloody condition, and that’s that you *never* talk about that sort of thing with me again!”
“Okay,” Dawn agreed with a shrug, more than happy to change the subject.
“Unless of course you’re actually *considering* it with some bloke – in which case I want to hear all about it including the little prat’s name and address so I can break his bloody willy clean off before it has a chance to touch you!” Spike amended darkly.
“Whatever,” Dawn rolled her eyes at his overprotective ramblings, though they secretly warmed her in a way she could not quite put into words. “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about my sister, and why I’m gonna have to beat the crap out of her for beating the crap out of you. Why *did* she, anyway?”
“See, that’s the thing, pet,” Spike went on softly. “She’s – she’s not quite herself when she does – when she did it.”
“There’s been more than once?” Dawn’s voice darkened, her eyes narrowing with anger.
“There’s something,” Spike went on, ignoring the comment deliberately. “that’s been taking her over – making her do things that are beyond her control. And it’s only since…”
“You two made like bunnies,” Dawn finished for him.
He nodded grimly.
“There’s one thing I don’t get, though,” Dawn frowned thoughtfully. “Buffy said she – she *bit* you?”
Spike took a deep breath. This bit was going to be a little harder to explain. But he did his best to tell Dawn what they knew about the ritual and the claim, which really wasn’t a lot, as there was clearly more to it than they knew.
Dawn was furious when he finished. “This is all Buffy’s fault,” she fumed. “I can’t believe she had the nerve to think she was just going to *control* you like that! If she hadn’t tried that whole control spell thingy in the first place, none of it would have happened!”
Spike did not respond, silently acknowledging that she was right.
“So – she’s just gonna have these psychotic episodes or whatever, until we can figure out what went wrong with the ritual?” Dawn guessed with a little grimace of displeasure at the idea. When Spike nodded glumly, she added in dismay, “That could take forever.”
“But,” Spike remembered, his eyes widening as he looked up at her. “There’s something – whenever we came in here, and she heard your voice – knew you were here – something changed, Bit.” There was a note of hopeful excitement in his voice as he recalled it. “Something about – about you being there – seemed to make her – come back. Made this other – thing – retreat, somehow.”
“Me?” Dawn’s eyebrows raised dubiously. “*I* scared off this weird demon thingy?”
“I don’t know if ‘scared’ is the right word,” Spike gave an uncertain little half-shrug. “It was just sort of like – your being there put Buffy – back in control of herself.” He paused, and they were both silent, thinking it over. “It’s something to tell the Watcher,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’ll make a difference. If I’m actually allowed to open my bloody mouth next time I see them again.”
He frowned, remembering Buffy’s command not to leave the house, that she had just given him – hoping it was just for that night. “*If* I bloody see them again.”
Dawn’s eyes widened with alarm at that suggestion. “Of course you will,” she assured him. “We’re gonna figure this out. And if something about me keeps Buffy from hurting you,” she shrugged easily. “I’ll just have to stay around so that you’re not alone with her.”
He laughed softly, a dark, unpleasant sound to it that worried her. “That’s gonna be a bit easier said than done, pet,” he warned her with a sad smile. “The very nature of this claim makes her want – well, to be alone with me – quite a bit, Niblet.”
“Well, Miss High-and-Mighty Big Bad Slayer’s gonna have to learn that she can’t always *get* what she…”
“Shh!” Spike suddenly hushed her, one hand upraised, his eyes fastened on the top of the stairs, listening for the soft sound he had just heard – of a door opening and closing. Then, they both heard soft footsteps from upstairs, padding toward the stairs.
On the edge of panic, Spike hissed, “Go!” to Dawn, gesturing toward the kitchen.
“But…” she whispered back, shaking her head.
“She’s gonna know I told you if she sees you here, Bit,” he hurriedly informed her in a whisper. “And she’s gonna be bloody well pissed off with me for it…”
“But maybe I can…”
“I’m not taking the chance with you’re safety, Bit,” he insisted firmly. “She went after Xander, and Anya – I don’t want her deciding she should be jealous of *you* -- now go!”
Reluctantly, Dawn slipped off the couch and into the kitchen, closing the door behind her, as Buffy’s footsteps started down the stairs.
He looked up at her uncertainly from the couch, swallowing back a hard lump of fear in his throat, not having the faintest idea what to expect from her at this point. Buffy stopped at the bottom of the stairs, just looking at him with a calm, sort of sad look on her face. She slowly approached him, reaching down a hand to gently touch his face, the sadness in her eyes deepening when he flinched away.
He tensed, his eyes focused on the floor, preparing for the fury he was sure he would experience for his small defiance – it seemed to take less and less to anger her all the time.
He was startled to find her suddenly kneeling in front of him, between his slightly parted legs, bringing herself to eye level with him. He stared at her, wide eyes searching, trying to understand what she was doing. Her eyes were uncharacteristically gentle, holding his gaze as she leaned in to softly, tenderly kiss his bruised mouth, her hand rising to the back of his neck to pull him in closer.
As the kiss deepened, he felt his hunger for her growing in spite of his determination to suppress it, and he slid his arms around her, remembering a moment later that he was not supposed to.
But there was no reproof, as she slid her arm around his waist, tenderly caressing her mark on his throat with her other hand – and this time, the touch told him in a way that her words could not, how truly sorry she was, how much she regretted hurting him.
Finally, she pulled back from the kiss, breathless and gasping, resting her forehead against his for a moment as she caught her breath.
“Spike,” she whispered finally, a desperation in her voice. “Come upstairs with me. I – I want you – please come upstairs with me…”
There were so many reasons why he should have said no – but he was afraid to, afraid of shattering this tender, beautiful moment that had come out of nowhere – and the truth was…
He didn’t *want* to say no.
Silently he nodded, and let her take his hand as she rose to her feet, let her lead him up the stairs to her bedroom.
In the kitchen, the teenage girl listened to the quiet exchange, not seeing, but aware of what was going on. An uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, she made a quick decision and headed for the phone, dialing a number she knew by heart.
She waited through several rings until a very familiar voice picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Mommy?” Dawn said in a small, hushed voice, suddenly feeling about five years old again. “Um – I really think you need to come home.”
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