Six
He could hear everyone stirring, the usual morning noises striking him as strange, alien. Spike listened as the girls yawned and murmured sleepily, a wry smile on his features. Buffy hadn’t stirred. He’d thought he wouldn’t sleep, but an hour or so into her slumber, he’d drifted off. She was still curled against him, her head resting comfortably on his chest.
A soft knock caught his attention, and without waiting for a response, Dawn slid inside the door. “Hey, you guys awake yet?”
“Just barely.” Spike shifted his weight, dislodging Buffy just enough to slide the pillow beneath her head. “Sis is still sleeping.”
The girl in question grumbled, protesting the noise disturbing her.
“Did she sleep all night?” Dawn plopped down on the bed, narrowly missing Buffy’s feet. “She hasn’t gotten a lot of sleep since she came back.”
“Figured that was happening. ‘S hard for her.” Spike eased into a sitting position, reaching for his shirt.
“You weren’t surprised when Buffy sang about being in heaven.” Dawn’s eyes were focused on Buffy, but he could hear the accusation easily.
Before Spike could answer, Buffy’s sleep-roughened voice interrupted. “Because he already knew. Now can you go someplace else so I can go back to sleep?” Buffy rolled over, pulling the comforter up over her head. “Sleep is good.”
The other two shared a look, Spike recognizing the rebellion brewing on the teen’s features. Grasping her wrist, he gently pulled her from the bed. “C’mon, Bit, let’s get some nosh.”
They left Buffy alone, her head still buried beneath the covers.
Cyd was at the end of his patience. Xander had refused to come out of the closet, hiding behind all the clothing like a small child. He’d spent the remainder of the night there, singing obnoxious melodies in order to keep himself from falling asleep. His voice was raw, his mouth and throat dry, but he kept on singing.
The sound of his voice was driving Cyd mad.
Any moment he was going to break, pound his head against the closet door until he was unconscious. The droning was enough to turn his stomach. Right now, Xander was working through his third rendition of Ninety-nine bottles of beer, a song the demon had never heard until now. He wished he’d never heard it.
It was grating.
It was annoying.
It offended every single sensibility Cyd possessed.
It had . . . stopped.
Xander’s voice finally gave out – that or he’d fallen asleep. Either way it was bliss, because the noise had stopped.
Cyd cautiously opened the door, hoping Xander’s foot wasn’t aimed at his head. When no foot caught his chin, Cyd motioned to the other demons to pull Xander from the closet.
Muttering softly under his breath, Cyd watched while the demons placed Xander on the bed. “He’s not going to be happy about this.”
Whether Cyd was talking about Xander or Sweet, neither of the minions asked.
It was obvious to everyone that Tara hadn’t slept in the bedroom with Willow. Dawn and Anya had found her sleeping on the couch shortly before they went to bed, and she was still there when Giles woke.
She was just stirring when Dawn hauled Spike out of the bedroom. He paused, catching sight of the pained look in her eyes and motioned Dawn ahead. “You all right, Glinda?”
Rubbing away the sleep, Tara made a face. “I guess.”
“What’s wrong?” Had it been any of the others, Spike wouldn’t have bothered, but something about the girl made him want to help.
Startled by his question, Tara hung her head, refusing to meet his intense gaze. “–nothing.”
“Not nothing when you’re sleepin’ out here an’ not snuggled in with your honey.” He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, as if he didn’t know what to do with himself, or why he was worried about her.
He’d thought he was being nice, asking how she was, and he wasn’t prepared at all for her reaction. Tara shook her head, darting a glance up at him and Spike caught the glimmer of tears. “Hey, ducks, why the tears?”
“What we did was w-wrong. P-pulling B-Buffy out of h-heaven and Willow’s –not s-sorry.” More tears slid down her cheeks, though when Spike took a step forward to comfort her, Tara held up a hand. “A-and I think s-she’s —messing with my —mind. Doing spells to make – to keep me calm.”
“What?” Spike yelped, the volume startling them both. “You sure ‘bout this, Glinda?”
“P-pretty sure. My memory’s all messed up from the last couple of days.” Tara rocked back and forth, her arms wrapped around her middle. “Why would she abuse me? What did she hope to gain? Why does she use me?”
The melody was soft, echoing Tara’s pain, and Spike listened as she poured her heart out, trying hard to keep from joining her. “If I should lose her, how shall I regain the heart she has won from me?”
Tara couldn’t look at Spike, didn’t want to see the pity swimming in his eyes, but she couldn’t stop singing, couldn’t stem the tide of words surging from her mouth. “Agony! Beyond power of speech, when the one thing you want, is the only thing out of your reach.”
“High in her tower she sits by the hour maintaining her hair.” Spike looked at Tara, a strange look on his face, trying to figure out why he’d sung anything, much less those words. He didn’t think Buffy spent hours on her hair, but maybe this was just some kind of strange metaphor even he couldn’t figure out. “Blithe and becoming and frequently humming a lighthearted air. Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-Agony!”
Tara looked back, disbelief mixed with the tears she’d been shedding. Spike kept on singing, though, his voice low and as pain-filled as hers had been. “Far more painful than yours, when you know she would go with you, if there weren’t doors.
Together they sang the next few lines. “Agony! Oh, the torture they teach!”
Both of them had strange looks on their faces, neither one able to stop the singing.
“What's as intriguing,” Spike sang. His smirking smile finally reached his eyes, and he waited a half-beat while Tara countered him.
“Or half so fatiguing – ” For her part, Tara couldn’t resist answering Spike’s smile and the words finally began to register with her.
Once again, they sang the next line together, “As what's out of reach.”
Finally getting into the absurdity of the whole moment, Tara hid her laughter behind her hand, singing once more, “Am I not sensitive, clever, well-mannered, considerate, passionate, charming, as kind as I'm handsome, and hair to my waist?
Spike laughed at her antics, exclaiming, “You are everything maidens could wish for!”
The moment was broken then, when Tara asked him plaintively, “Then why no– ?”
“Do I know?” He reached out for her hand, clasping it briefly before letting go, then assuring her, “The girl must be mad!”
Without taking a break, he broke into song again. “You know nothing of madness, till you're climbing her stairs, and you see her up there, as you're nearing her, all the while hearing her: Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah–“
They both sang the next words together, “Agony! Misery! Woe! Though it's different for each.”
Realizing just how hopeless it was, Tara’s voice filled with tears and she was barely able to choke out the next words, “Always ten steps behind – “
“Always ten feet below – “ Picking up on Tara’s change in emotion, and for once admitting to himself just how hopeless his own situation was, Spike tried not to let his own emotions overflow.
For the last time, their voices blended together, the words, soft and heartbroken. “And she's just out of reach. Agony! That can cut like a knife!”
Tara couldn’t sing any longer, so she just listened as Spike sung the last line in a near whisper. “I’d give anything to make her my wife.”
Unable to keep from comforting him, Tara grabbed him hard around the waist and hugged him. Spike hugged her back awkwardly, though when he smelled her tears, he tightened his hold on her. “It’s gonna be all right, pet.”
Though he really wasn’t sure himself. . .
Dawn slipped back inside the room her sister had shared with her favorite vampire. This time, it was clear Buffy was awake, as her eyes narrowed at Dawn’s entrance.
“What?” There was enough belligerence in Buffy’s question for Dawn’s attitude to match hers.
“Geez. Bitch much? What the heck is wrong with you?” The younger Summers started to flounce from the room, then stopped in her tracks. “You know. . . I’m sorry, Buffy.”
“For what?” Pushing herself up on her elbows, Buffy stared at her sister.
She deflated completely. “I didn’t know what they were doing.”
A sigh ripped from her. Buffy threw off the comforter, wishing there were some way she could avoid this discussion. “I didn’t think you had.”
“So how come you’re such a bitch all the time? How come you act like you don’t wanna be around me?” Dawn whirled on her, hair flaring all around. “How come you told Spike where you were?”
If Buffy hadn’t been looking so hard, she would have missed the wounded, tearful look her sister was trying so hard to hide.
“Because he didn’t look at me. . . he doesn’t look at me differently. He – “ Buffy caught at Dawn’s hand. “Dawnie, don’t, please?”
“How come you told him?”
“I trust him.” It was the only answer she could give her sister, the only answer that made some sort of sense.
She hadn’t wanted anyone to know, was almost afraid to speak of it in fear of screaming endlessly at everyone – Dawn included. Until this moment, when her sister denied all knowledge, Buffy thought she knew. It all made sense though, that her friends left Dawn out.
Dawn and Spike.
Dawn’s soft question interrupted her musings. “What are you going to do now?”
“Huh?”
“Are you sorry you came back?” When Buffy didn’t answer, Dawn asked her again. “Are you?”
“I don’t know. I . . . Dawnie.” Buffy bit her lip and stared off at nothing, refusing to meet her sister’s gaze.
“How long are you going to be this way?” The question was heartbreaking, and Buffy finally glanced at her sister.
“Why?”
“Because you have to start living for yourself, not for anyone else. You have to start living. . .”
Her voice dropped away for a moment, then picked up, soft and sweet. “Oh, it's time to start livin', time to take a little from this world we're given. . . Time to take time, cause spring will turn to fall, in just no time at all....”
When Buffy made a face, Dawn’s voice got stronger, less girlish. “What good is a field on a fine summer night, when you sit all alone with the weeds? Or a succulent pear if with each juicy bite, you spit out your heart with the seeds?”
Dawn wagged a finger at her older sister. “ Before it's too late stop trying to wait, for fortune and fate you're secure of, for there's one thing to be sure of, mate – There's nothing to be sure of!”
Once more her words rang through the room, much stronger than the first time. “Oh, it's time to start livin', time to take a little from this world we're given. . . Time to take time, cause spring will turn to fall, in just no time at all....”
The younger Summers girl danced around a bit, shaking her hands in the air and acting crazy, hoping to get a smile or some reaction from her sister. When it appeared to be working, Dawn kept on singing. “Now when the drearies do attack, and a siege of the sads begins – just throw those noble shoulders back, don’t worry about the might have beens!”
She was laughing now, knowing the next words would wring some reaction from her sister, because she could hide from herself, but there was no way Dawn missed what was going on between her and Spike – she’d seen that kiss the other night, outside the Bronze. She knew what was happening. “You’ve got a man who is handsome and strong. Someone who's stalwart and steady.”
A sly look came over Dawn’s features and she got very close to her sister, staring intently. The bawdiest voice she could muster came out, seemingly from her toes. “So have a night that's romantic and long – and give me a month to get ready! That’ll be enough time to get out of the way!”
Barely able to contain her laughter at Buffy’s expression, Dawn kept singing. “So stop looking for reason and rhyme, because really it’s alright, it’s okay, if you just live for yourself this time!”
Grabbing her sister’s hand, Dawn swung her into a crazy dance step. “Oh, it's time to start livin', time to take a little from this world we're given. . . Time to take time, cause spring will turn to fall, in just no time at all....”
They danced around while Dawn kept singing, until finally the laughter rang clear and true. The two Summers girls collapsed in a heap on the bed, breathless and, for once, carefree. When the laughter died off, Dawn sat up, leaning on her elbow, watching Buffy. “Seriously, you need to start living again. Not for me, or any of the others. But for you, Buffy. Just for you.”
Liner Notes:
Ninety-nine bottles of beer; Anonymous drinking song, performed by infinite numbers of people, mostly on insanely long road trips.
Agony: from the musical Into The Woods, music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, originally performed by Chuck Wagner and Robert Westernberg (Broadway production).
No Time At All; from the musical Pippin, music and lyrics by Stephen Schwartz, originally performed by Irene Ryan (Broadway production) (betcha don’t know who Irene Ryan is. . . . )
I know! You all thought I'd abandoned this poor little orphan story. Well, no. I didn't. So I've got this chapter all done, and another one waiting for a beta -- and a bit of the next after that all written up. Plus I've got two Chapters of Jungle, and another one shot. . . and I might even be persuaded to add another chapter of something else. . . though I really don't deserve them, any kind words would be greatly appreciated.