The knock on the door woke Dawn immediately with a sudden jolt, as she sat upright in her bed, her wide blue eyes focused on the door. A bit slower to rise, Joyce mumbled something in half-sleep, before slowly sitting up and looking toward the door as well.
Dawn rose from the bed and cautiously approached the door. It could only be one of two people at the door, as far as she was concerned – or perhaps both – and she knew that even if the worst case scenario were true, and it was her sister, under the Slayer’s control – the flimsy motel door would not stop her from entering if she really wanted to.
“Dawnie – wait!” Joyce whispered urgently from the bed, her eyes wide with fear. “We don’t know…”
But Dawn’s hand was already on the doorknob, her jaw set with steely determination, as she opened the door. There was no sense in putting it off, or simply waiting for the Slayer to attack first.
After all, if it *was* the evil Slayer at the door – who better to subdue her than Dawn?
When the door opened, it revealed not her sister, but Spike, standing there, looking weary and a bit battered, but not badly hurt. Dawn felt an overwhelming sense of relief at the sight of him, as she automatically stepped back to allow him into the room.
Spike knew that if she had seen him only an hour earlier, her reaction to his appearance would have been much different. Half-draining a Slayer twice in the space of a couple of hours had had a remarkable impact on his health, and he now bore hardly any visible injuries, besides a few nearly faded bruises and almost-healed burns.
But none of that was on his mind at the moment.
“That was bloody stupid,” he informed her, his eyes flashing with protective anger as he reached across the table near the door to turn on the light, while Dawn closed the door quietly behind him. “What were you thinkin’, Bit? Just opening the door like that without looking to see who it was?”
“If it’d been Buffy, I’m the only one who can stop her anyway,” she reminded him with a careless shrug that the blonde vampire found infuriating. “And anyway, it *wasn’t* her – it was you.”
“And if it’d been neither?” Spike countered, turning to meet her eyes, his eyebrows raised in challenge over a look of smoldering anger. “There’s more than your big sis for a little girl to be scared of in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere like this!”
Dawn’s careless mood faded into a serious expression, as she heard the slight catch in Spike’s voice, saw the haunted, pained expression that was almost successfully covered by the anger in his eyes – but not quite.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, not wanting to argue with her friend – not when something was so clearly upsetting him – something more than her careless actions.
“And anyway,” he went on, sinking into the chair behind the table wearily, one hand across his brow as he rested his elbow on the table in exhaustion. “You *can’t* stop her – not anymore.”
Joyce rose from the bed and started slowly toward him, alarm in her eyes. “What do you mean?” she asked with concern. Before, Dawn had been the *only* one who could stop the Slayer. If even *she* could not defeat her now…
“It’s a long story, love,” Spike sighed. “But one I’ve got to tell you. Got to fill you two in on what’s been going on over there.”
“I thought you two wanted to – um – wait until morning,” Dawn frowned, after suppressing an awkward smile of embarrassment at the thought of what Buffy had insinuated to her that she and Spike had intended to spend the night doing. “What happened? Where’s Buffy?”
“That’s another long, difficult story, pet,” he replied, his voice betraying his emotional exhaustion, now that he was here in the safest place he could imagine, surrounded by the people who loved him, with the cruel Slayer chained up in the next room and unable to harm him at the moment.
As Joyce neared him, and saw the nearly healed, but still visible marks on his face and body, heard the raw, painful emotion in his voice at the question of where her daughter was at the moment, she – quite understandably – misinterpreted the situation, and stopped short, a few feet away from him. She surprised both Spike and Dawn when she took the girl’s arm and pulled her back slightly away from Spike as well – behind her.
“Spike – where is Buffy?” she asked, a certain hardness creeping into her voice as she studied the vampire’s face intently, with a cool control that covered a rising fear within her – and covered it well.
“*Mom*!” Dawn gasped, indignant at the veiled almost-accusation in her mother’s voice.
Spike’s eyes shot up to those of the older woman; he had not missed the sound of uncertainty and reluctant mistrust in Joyce’s voice. The look of hurt and betrayal in his wide, stunned blue eyes was almost physically painful to Joyce to look at – and she knew in the very next instant that her fears were unfounded, even before the vampire spoke in a voice that trembled with the power of the unreleased emotion that had been building in him for the past few days, and was now finding its way to the surface despite his intentions.
“She’s safe,” he replied, a pleading note to his voice as he held Joyce’s gaze, hurt and desperation in his eyes. “She’s safe, I promise you. I just – I have to explain it – it’s – it’s bloody confusing – just – just…”
His voice trailed off, as the sharp ache building in his chest at the sight of his adoptive family, standing at a distance from him, regarding him with suspicion, as a thing to be feared – just when he needed them near him most – became overwhelmingly painful for him…even as Joyce’s suspicion softened to compassion and concern.
Spike lowered his head into his hands, as he managed to get his next words out, just barely, with a sound that was almost a sob of anguish and desolation, “…just don’t – don’t turn away from me, Joyce – please – I don’t think I could – I mean – I need…”
Joyce could only guess at the trauma Spike had been through that night – but by his broken, pleading words, and the way his body was shaking with the release of his repressed emotions, she knew that more had gone on that night than he had intended. But she also knew that he was telling the truth – Buffy *was* safe – and that what he needed from her right then was love and compassion, rather than the caution and reserve that had come with her fears.
She went to him without hesitation, wrapping her arms around him and pulling his head in to cradle against her chest, as she had done that first day, when she had come home to find him battered and broken by Buffy’s abuse, long before they had discovered what was really happening. He turned toward her, leaning into and accepting her embrace, his body trembling slightly as he tried to hold back his overwhelming emotions.
Dawn obeyed her mother’s silent gesture to bring her a chair, taking one of the other chairs around the table and setting it behind her mother, so that she could sit down next to the shaken vampire. Joyce did not release her comforting hold on Spike as she sat down, just rocking slightly as she held him close to her.
“How could you think that I would – I could *never* -- even after she – I’d *never* hurt Buffy, don’t you know that, Joyce?” he insisted in a voice that was thick with tears.
“Shhh,” she whispered soothingly, gently cutting off his heart-wrenching words. “I know – it’s all right – I’m sorry, Sweetie – I’m sorry…”
He just allowed her to hold him for a few minutes, grateful for the comfort and support that he had felt the painful lack of for so long – the mother’s love that Joyce had given back to him, after more than a century bereft of it. The thought of, after all he had been through that night, losing Joyce and Dawn’s trust and support as well, had simply been more than he could handle.
Once he had managed to regain control, she pulled back slowly, her hands on his shoulders as he met her eyes with a tentative, sheepish smile.
“Right bloody ponce, I am,” he muttered quietly. “Letting m’self get so – so soddin’ emotional…”
“There’s gotta be a reason for it, though – right?” Joyce guessed, her tone serious and concerned, as she gently stroked back his blonde curls with soft fingertips. Her eyes shone with compassion as they searched his for the answers to the questions in her mind.
What had happened in the past few hours in the next room to make Spike so emotionally vulnerable and on edge?
“There is,” he admitted – having little other choice. It was not as if she would have believed him if he had denied it. “But nothing I need to talk about.”
Joyce opened her mouth to protest; she was certain from his reaction that Spike *did* need to talk about it. But before she could say a word, he finished quietly.
“Leastwise – not in front of Nibblet.”
He glanced past her at Dawn, and Joyce’s gaze followed his, as she realized that he had to be right. If it was enough to bring a powerful master vampire to tears, and it involved her older sister – it was nothing that Dawn needed to know about.
“Oh, come on!” Dawn objected in annoyance. “I’m not a child! You can tell me…”
“Dawn,” Joyce cut her off, a bit sharply, “please go listen to your headphones, or watch TV or something. Spike needs to…”
“No,” Spike interrupted softly, shaking his head as he met Joyce’s eyes. “No – don’t send her away. We – we kind of need to talk to her.”
“ ‘We’do?” Joyce echoed dubiously, one eyebrow arched in a question, her look telling him that he had lost her.
“See – that’s the thing,” Spike said slowly, pulling back away from her and drawing in a deep breath as he tried to think of the best way to even begin to explain the situation. “Not ‘we’ you and me – ‘we’ – me and *Buffy*.” He paused for a moment before going on, “You asked where Buffy is – actually – she’s -- *here*.”
“In this room?” Dawn asked, wide-eyed as she scanned the room for her apparently invisible sister.
“In this -- *body*,” Spike clarified cautiously, searching their faces to be sure that they were understanding.
His strange words were, not surprisingly, met with utter silence.
“She – she jumped into me – to try to beat the Slayer demon. It was – the only way we could do it…” he began to explain, his words slightly tentative.
He could not really blame them if they did not exactly take this well.
“Say *what*?” Dawn said in a dubious voice, falling down into a chair across the table from Spike and her mother, staring at him in disbelief.
“It’s hard to explain – the demon taking over her body and merging with her essence and such made it possible – it’s this whole big *thing* -- but – just suffice it to say that Buffy and I are momentarily cohabitating in my body – and the Slayer demon is alone in hers,” Spike explained.
“Why?” Joyce asked, shaking her head slightly, alarm in her eyes. Then, after a pause, “*Where*?”
“In our room…” Spike hesitated before adding, “…chained to the bed…” It took him a moment to work up the nerve to look at Joyce again, but when he did, he saw no anger in her eyes. “I – I had to, Joyce – there was no other way…she…she…”
Her soft blue eyes regarded him with compassion and understanding. “I understand, Spike,” she assured him. “You haven’t got a lot of options here. But – Buffy’s in you, so…what good does that do again?”
“I can do the dominance ritual with no chance of actually dominating Buffy, or having the Slayer get away free because of being joined with Buffy – I can – do what I have to, to get her to accept my claim – without worrying about hurting Buffy,” he went on, cautiously, glancing uncertainly at Joyce at his last words.
Her expression had darkened somewhat, but she nodded slowly, accepting the difficult necessity of what he was saying. “But – how does she get back in her own body? Once the dominance ritual is done?”
“That’s why we’re here,” Spike said, taking a deep breath as he looked at Dawn. “You’re the only one who can help us with that, Bit, once the Slayer demon is back where she belongs.”
“Me?” Dawn echoed in a small voice, before staring down at the table, thinking hard about the whole thing.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “See – Buffy wants to explain it to you – what she came up with…she’s actually learned a lot from pickin’ this nasty’s brain so to speak, while they’ve been joined up – and it seems you’ve got some powers of your own you haven’t known about, Bit…but – she can probably explain it better than I can…”
Dawn’s eyes widened as she looked back up at him. “You mean – I can talk to *Buffy* while she’s in there?”
“Well – yeah,” Spike nodded with a little self-conscious shrug. “But only through your minds. It works kinda like when she was in her *own* body, and the Slayer was in control? How if you touched her, you’d draw her to the surface? She’s got some answers for you on that, too, by the way – but that’s how it works now. You’ve just gotta – touch me – and reach for her, like you did before…and the two of you will be able to communicate…okay?”
Dawn glanced at her mother, who looked away, not wanting to influence her daughter with her own apprehension. She looked back at Spike, her jaw setting with resolution.
“Looks like we don’t have a choice. Okay. Let’s do this.”
Spike nodded. “K. Gimme a second.”
*Buffy, love? You ready?* he asked her in his mind, realizing suddenly that she had been very quiet throughout his whole conversation with Joyce and Dawn.
When she did speak, her mental voice was very small and a little sad. *Yes. I’m ready, Spike,* she assured him.
He still did not feel quite inclined to comfort her, although something was clearly bothering her. Still, he could tell that she was hurting, and he wanted to at least make the effort to try to be supportive.
*Buffy?* he repeated hesitantly.
*I’m ready,* she insisted, clearly trying to change the subject. *Let’s do this.*
She thought she was covering it up, brushing away his inquiries and protecting her shame from his sight – but she was not. He could feel her emotions as easily as she could feel his – and in her voice, he could hear her guilt and remorse for the pain she had caused him.
Suddenly, he realized that it must have been quite difficult for Buffy, watching his emotional reaction in her mother’s arms, feeling his pain and confusion and knowing that she had put it there – realizing that the comfort she had offered him earlier had been good, well-intentioned, and well-received...but not quite enough – simply because it had come from *her*.
Because no matter what the situation, no matter how hard they tried to tell themselves that it was not Buffy’s fault, she was still, in a sense, his *abuser*.
*Buffy, love – don’t…*
*Spike – not now, okay?* she insisted softly, and there was a pleading note to her words in his head. *Let’s just – do this, okay?*
Spike relented, not wanting to push her too hard.
*Okay,* he agreed, looking up expectantly at Dawn.
“Come on, pet – she’s ready,” he nodded encouragingly, beckoning Dawn nearer as she rose and came around the table, reaching out with a nervous, trembling hand to take his arm.
And for Dawn, in an instant -- *everything* changed.
[Reviews - 1135]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 2191 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +