Dawn and Willow exchanged a nervous glance as they approached the Summers’ kitchen, inside they could hear Buffy reorganising her date with the wedding caterers for the following Monday.
Stealing themselves they walked in just as Buffy hung up the phone. “Hi guys” she greeted perkily, “Aren’t you way early Wills?” she questioned as she busied herself clearing the remains of her sandwich “And I thought you had a date Dawnie?”
The awkward silence and furtive glances the girls shared where not lost on the Slayer. “What’s up guys?”
It was Dawn who, with a steadying breath, took up the responsibility. “Buffy, sit down. Willow… we, have to tell you something” As she spoke she guided her bemused sister to one of the high stools that stood at the breakfast bar.
“Willow saved a girl last night from a vamp attack” Dawn faltered, God she knew this was going to be hard, but, how in the hell was she supposed to actually say the words to her sister.
“And?” Buffy prompted “I’m guessing there’s more too it than that”
“Yeah” Willow agreed softly. “You see it wasn’t just any vamp, I knew him. It was…” It was Willows turn to fail under the weight of this information her eyes dropping to the tiled floor.
“It was? Come on guys you’re freaking me out, who was it?” Buffy’s impatience was evident in the tenor of her voice, but still neither girl found the courage to answer. Silence hung heavy and suffocating around the three of them. It was Buffy who shattered it with a nervous laugh, “come on guys. Spit it out, how bad can it be?”
“It was Spike” Dawn honestly didn’t know how she did it, how she forced those three doom laden words passed her lips. She held her breath and waited for the Slayers reaction.
“No” Buffy replied, simply, her voice unnaturally calm. She rose from her chair and continued tidying the kitchen.
Looking over at Willow, Dawn saw her own confused expression mirrored on the Wicca’s delicate features. “Buffy” Willow probed gently “Did you hear her? I saw Spike last night. Here. Hunting in your town”
Buffy didn’t break the rhythm of her work or spare the girls a glance as she replied, “I heard you. You’re wrong” That same unnerving calm coupled with all the dangerous certainty of denial.
Willow squared her shoulders and pressed on bravely “ I’m sorry Buffy. I know this is hard. But it was him. I couldn’t be mistaken about this. He even spoke to me. This is real Buffy and its dangerous, he doesn’t have a soul, and he’s out for blood”
When the Slayer refused to acknowledge her words the witch looked to the younger girl for assistance. Nodding almost imperceptibly Dawn took up the baton.
“Buffy.” She spoke softly, her voice sympathetic. “Willow’s right, we need to decide what to do about this. If Spike...”
Neither girl saw the slayer turn, neither saw her raise her hand to slam it down on the counter with preternatural speed and strength. Willow gave a startled yelp, and Dawn froze eyes wide, mouth forming a surprised o.
“You. Are. Wrong” Each word was both a denial and a command. Willow could feel the untempered power of the Slayer buzzing in the ether. Dawn saw it burning in her sisters hazel eyes.
The doorbell rang causing both girls to jump slightly. Buffy gave them a hard look, driving the point home. Then she straightened, shook her head slightly, as if clearing it and bounced over to the door, opening it with a cheery “Come on in. I have snacks”
Disbelief hung tangibly in the air between them. Dawn shook her head dejectedly looking at the counter top. Maybe Xander would be able to repair it. “I have to go Wills, I can’t be near her when she’s like this. I’ll call you in the morning we’ll have a rethink, ‘kay?”
“Okay Dawnie.” The shell-shocked redhead replied, as she watched the young brunette exit through the back door.
………….
Spike had been watching the house since sunset. He had watched the Slayer potter about doing mundane domestic tasks, nothing very interesting in terms of a spectator sport, and still he had watched her.
A dream had woken him just before, tangled, flashing, images of blond hair and honeyed skin. He had lain still, and tense in the twilight, tangled in cheap polyester sheets. He had clutched at the images, trying to decipher their meaning, but as with all things ethereal they were reticent and had fled. The unease, that had been his constant companion since he entered this god forsaken town, however refused to depart so easily. Even turning his mind to thoughts of Drusilla’s impending resurrection had not been able to banish it entirely.
His senses tingled. He felt her unmistakable power signature charging the night air with white magic. The scene played out before him, like one of those silent movies Dru had loved so much, a story told in worried frowns and nervous glances.
The sound of the Slayer destroying her kitchen furniture, reached his ears and he gave an amused chuckle “Taking the news well are we Slayer?” he asked the shadows around him.
That seemed to be an end to the discussion. Buffy retreated into another part of the house, follow shortly after by the witch, while the leggy brunette that had caught his eye earlier came out through the backdoor. Abandoning her usual poise she flopped gracelessly down onto the back step, burying her head in her hands. The action made her look like a coltish adolescent, almost gangly. A sense of familiarity hit him head on head on and he took and involuntary step back.
She was up again after a moment, walking slowly away down the empty street, he followed, keeping to the shadows, moving silently in the still night. This was better, this stalking of prey, this he knew. She led him off the main street, turning to cross a small deserted park
His lips curved into a cruel smirk, they just didn’t get any brighter did they. He quickened his pace, moving closer.
Dawn didn’t know what had possessed her to short cut through the park, just hadn’t been thinking straight she guesses. Buffy’s reaction had her stomach churning with vexed disquiet. Then she felt it, that distant yet still familiar feeling of being followed. For a moment she felt like she was in Sunnydale again, a frightened teenager in a town full of evil.
The sound of a snapping twig behind her had her wheeling round, heart pounding, eyes straining uselessly in the dark.
She didn’t even have time to squeal in surprise. Unnaturally strong arms held in a vice like grip, one hand holding something over her nose and mouth. She recognised the feeling, that brief moment of light-headedness as blackness overtook, chloroform.
……….
Willow was aware that she hadn’t contributed a single thing to the Scooby meeting in which she sat. She was aware that Giles and Xander where giving her increasingly worried looks. Angel had tried asking her opinion directly but she had merely shrugged and mumbled that she wasn’t sure. She was also painfully aware that Buffy had not asked her opinion, nor had looked at her for the entirety of the meeting.
Buffy was talking again, cheerfully lamenting their spectacular lack of progress. She was agreeing with Giles that Angel should travel to the hellmouth to support the Faith in organising the slayers gathered there. She was discussing the possibility of bringing the other slayer groups to North America. She had offered snacks and talked to Xander about his work with the council, but she had not said a single word about the resurrection of William the Bloody.
Buffy resolutely refused to meet Willow’s worried eyes. If she did she knew she would break, knew that the strength of will which fortified her would crumple, and she would break. If she looked at the redhead, she would see the truth in her, would not be able to deny that Willow would not lie, and could not be wrong, about this. And Buffy wanted to deny. Denial after all was Buffy Summers’ most cherished stalwart.
“So we’re agreed” Willow tried desperately to focus on the Watchers words. “Angel will travel to the hellmouth to assist Faith, in the meantime I will have the council to begin moving the Slayers to the agreed strategic locations.” He paused and looked at the Slayer. “You’re sure we would not be better employed to move all the Slayers to a single location?”
Buffy shook her head, blond hair bouncing around her determined face. “No they’d make to inviting a target. And we’re not even certain Marcus will move at the hellmouth. Plus according to you’re patterns of death and mayhem chart, all of these towns are on the main routes the demons are taking. Maybe the girls can take a few of them out before they even get to Marcus. “
With that the meeting was over, Angel said his goodbyes and left quickly, determined to make good distance before dawn. Giles left with him, returning to his motel to begin making the necessary arrangements.
That left the three friends, the original scoobies, sitting in awkward silence in the Slayers living room. Xander fingered the strap of his eye patch, a nervous habit he had developed since Sunydale “So” he began, leaning forward and clapping his hands together “You two gonna tell me what all this is about?”
………
Spike was half way drunk, he swayed violently as he made his way across the room towards the unconscious figure on the bed, no make that Spike was very drunk indeed. And why the hell wouldn’t this girl wake up already. He dropped to his knees beside the bed and studied her relaxed face. She was beautiful really, not in the same way that Buffy was beautiful, not so fiery and fierce, more refined. Wait stop, did he just call the Slayer Buffy? Did he just call the Slayer beautiful? Ok he was so far past drunk now it was getting worrying.
She murmured softly in her sleep bringing his unfocused attention back to her face, unbidden his hand reached out and tenderly brushed some stray strands of hair from her face, his fingertips lingering on her warm skin. “Shit” he slurred softly retracting his hand quickly, too quickly in fact, the violent action upset his already suspect balance and he fell back heavily on his backside, glaring accusingly at his treacherous hand.
Anger and confusion surged through his inebriated mind. He rose quickly grabbing the girl roughly, pulling her up so that she was half sitting on the bed. He shook her one handed, bringing the other down in a hard slap across her pretty face. “Wake up!” he demanded angrily.
Dawn felt consciousness returning, her face stung painfully and her teeth rattled as she was shaken again. She opened her eyes, blue met blue, and everything stilled. It was him, she had believed Willow of course, but knowing and seeing are worlds apart, and it was really him. She couldn’t look away his eyes where so blue, bluer even than she remembered. Recognition flashed briefly in his eyes, before shocked confusion took its place.
“Spike” she breathed his name so softly human ears would have struggled to determine the sound even at this close range. She was pressed against him and he was here and he was real and solid and, drunk? Boy did he reek, whisky and cigarette smoke. The smell would have repulsed her in any other situation, but it was all so totally Spike that she found herself inhaling it deeply.
Spike felt the world tilt uncontrollably as she met his gaze. Her eyes, which should have be full of fear and tears, shone with wonder and affection? He heard her breath his name in an awe filled whisper before she breathed deeply through her nose, eyes falling half shut. Shit, was she sniffing him? He pushed her back down on to the bed and stumbled back reaching a hand out to steady himself against the wall.
He watched her horrified, gasping for airs his lungs seemed to forget he didn’t need. “Spike?” she questioned softly pushing herself up into a sitting position “Spike are you okay?”
He growled, disorientated and confused, strange sensations overwhelmed him, at the sound of her concern. Anger surged through is veins, taking the edge of his drunkenness, and then he was on her pinning her beneath him. Her arms and legs pinned painfully beneath his weight.
“Who the hell are you?” he growled, his eyes flashing golden with the force of his rage. “What the bloody hell is going on here?”
He had her trapped, his feral eyes flashing with contempt, and he didn’t recognise her as his friend, and yet she could not summon any fear. He was after all Spike and his role as protector was ingrained deeply in her consciousness. She was Dawn and he was still Spike, and Spike did not hurt Dawn, it was a simple fundamental truth of her world.
“Spike it’s me, Dawn” her voice was calm and reasoning and it served to fuel his anger. How dare she presume to be unafraid? Even now, here, when the intoxication scent of terror should have been rolling off her in waves she was calm, how dare she?
“Sorry love don’t know any Dawn” He sneered at her his voice dripping malice. “But I do know that you’re all matey with the Slayer, which… well lets just say than ain’t gonna work out too well for you”
Clasping both of her hands in one of his, he let his eyes run lavishly over her breasts. “You see me and little Buffy we got ourselves a bit of history. Now she hurt someone real special to me, and now I’m returning the favour. ‘s nothing personal luv” He leered at her, and bring his free hand up with preternatural speed ripped her cotton blouse clean from her body.
He growled in satisfaction as her body screamed out in fear. She fought him now struggling futilely to free herself, body writhing enticingly against his.
“Please Spike, please Spike it’s me Dawn. Please stop! Oh God Spike please stop, stop” he laughed at her pleas and moved his hand down to push up the hem of her silk skirt.
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