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AN: We apologize profusely for the delay in chapters. We have both good news and bad to blame, I (Barbie Girl) have had to deal with some loss in my family and some illness, while Tuesday has been blessed and is expecting her second child. We are planning to continue this story and hope you, our readers, will stay the course with us.
~Barbie Girl & Tuesday~



Chapter Eight


At those words, Dawn’s happiness popped like a needle to a balloon. Her smile vanished. “Favor?” She repeated, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“Yeah, sunshine. The favor you owe me?” Janice reminded her with a smirk. At Dawn’s startled look, she softened a bit. “Look, I’m not going to ask you to do anything illegal, alright? You don’t have to have that ‘deer-in-the-headlights’ look.” She said.

Dawn managed a nervous smile. “I-I know that. I just…was wondering what it was, that’s all.” Dawn said with a tilt of her chin. The lie sounded pathetic, even to her. Truth be told, she kept getting a nagging feeling in the back of her mind when it came to Janice. She wasn’t sure if she could trust her yet.

Janice stared at her, contemplating her next words carefully. Wouldn’t do to say the wrong thing and scare the girl off completely. She decided to initiate a stall tactic. “What do you think I want?”

Dawn was beginning to squirm under her friend’s unwavering stare. At the abrupt question, she began to ramble nervously. “Well, I don’t know! I don’t have any money, or any jewelry that’s worth anything….No car, no nothing. So, I’m guessing you want me to write you a poem?” She joked feebly.

Janice smiled at Dawn’s ramblings. Looking over to Manx, she nodded. Nodding back, he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Dawn looked from the closed door to Janice then back again. “What is it you want, Janice?” She said seriously.

Janice sauntered closer, swinging her hips. “Why, Dawnie, you haven’t guessed yet?” She purred, sticking her lower lip out.

Dawn swallowed hard, shaking her head negatively. She backed up against the counter, watching Janice advance.

Janice stopped right in front of her, not touching, but close enough to. Leaning forward, she whispered in her ear, “You.”


*****


Buffy dropped her bags, her new purchases landing with a soft plop in the sewer gunk, as she twisted away from Spike’s attack. He hit the slime-covered wall, his palm connecting hard as turned his head to snarl at his foe, yellow eyes blazing. Buffy cautiously took another step back, assuming a fighting stance, legs spread slightly, and her hands held close to her body, ready to battle. She wanted to twist her head, to gauge her surrounding, to find out what the real danger was, but her instincts knew better. They were alone; Spike was the danger.

“Spike?” There was an edge of slight hysteria in her voice that she hated but could not rid herself of. Her nerves were raw and frayed, strung too tight, ready to snap at the slightest movement. Mentally she had spent the trip alternating between preparing herself for the worst and hoping for the best. She had let images of Dawn play out in her mind, hurt, injured, or worse. But throughout those horrific visions Spike had been beside her. He was there to hold her up, to give her strength, to comfort her. She had never given her mind over to the thought that Spike could be a danger. The reality of the attack hit hard and without warning, knocking the wind out of her sails.

Spike snarled again, rising and stretching gracefully to his full height. He adjusted his shoulders, squaring them, and the move, one Buffy had seen on the nights he had patrolled with her, made a wave of nausea surge within her. And she knew that there would be no words; that reasoning would not come into play.

He lunged quickly and Buffy shot her leg up, turning and putting her body into the fluid movement. Her foot contacted hard with his jaw, snapping Spike’s head to the side with a sickening smack. Buffy winced as she witnessed him flail backwards, but the momentary concern was just that, momentary. Spike regained his footing with lightening fast reflexes and lunged again. Buffy ducked, striking out a low leg so he sailed over top of her. She heard the thump of his body against the wall and went to flip to her feet. But Spike used the move to his advantage, grabbing her one leg and twisting, causing sharp pains to shoot down her spine as she contorted her body to free her trapped appendage. She hit the filthy water, her hands scraping against the concrete bottom.

Spike shouted, grabbing his head as the chip did its damage. His chipped-black fingernails dug into his skull as he stood shrieking. Buffy looked up at the man she had made her life with for the past two years; this wasn’t a man, this was a monster. There was nothing now, nothing but pain and adrenaline racing through her veins, filling her body and numbing her mind till only one thing stood clear. First rule of slaying: Don’t die. With a sharp kick, she trusted her leg at Spike’s heavily booted ankles, and swept her leg forward, knocking him to the ground with a thud.

Spike landed hard on his back, the soiled water splashing across Buffy’s exposed skin as she flipped to her feet. Her back protested at such brutal treatment, sending pain shocks down her back, causing the slayer to wince slightly. She hovered over Spike, ready for another attack, her words simple. “I’m gonna give you one chance. What the hell was that?”

Spike sat sprawled out in the foul water, his human face emerging. The concrete scrapped against his leather duster and he blinked hard. His head was swimming, images, broken, and unconnected flashed in from of him. Dawn. Glory. Buffy. Glory. A motion picture with no rhyme or reason that wouldn’t still. He struggled to sit up, his arms quivering under his weight. “Not gonna let you…”

“What, Spike?”

He stood on shaking legs, fumbling with the slime-covered wall behind him. “Not gonna let you hurt her.”

“Who?” Buffy asked confused. “Dru? Is that what this is ab-”

The last word got cut as Spike launched himself at Buffy. The wind was knocked from her as she landed hard against the gunk-covered rung that was cemented to the wall and led to the manhole cover above. She took a deep pain laden breath, filling her lungs as Spike hollered. Buffy twisted her head to see Spike’s one hand tearing at his forehead and his other hand twisting her arm painfully behind her body. Buffy gritted her teeth and closed her eyes readying herself. She forced her head back, her skull colliding with Spike’s clawing hand. She had envisioned using this moment to free her arm from Spike’s grasp but Spike yanked hard on her forearm and the insuring pop made Buffy shout as tears stung her eyes. Spike’s hand dropped from her arm as it hung uselessly at her side and backed away a step, eyes darting nervously as if reality of his actions had just hit home.

Buffy turned slowly, cradling her dislocated appendage close to her body, eyes burning. She approached Spike calmly, her body smooth and swift. Spike backed up against the sewer wall, head shaking, eyes blinking, like a frightened animal. His voice was small and confused, “Buffy?”

Without a word Buffy flung her good arm forward, landing a punch square across his jaw. Spike’s cheek burned but he forced himself to look at her with the word ‘why’ imprinted on his lips. Buffy rained down a series of blows pummeling his face as her injured arm dangled at her side, catching in the movement and causing pain to wrack her tiny body with each punch she landed against Spike’s flesh. With a grunt she brought her fist up from her gut and landed the last strike, shattering Spike’s nose. And as he slid unconscious to the ground she turned away.

Buffy walked over to where the rungs were welded to the wall. She looked up, judging how strong they were and the weight of the manhole cover as she held her injured arm tightly to her body. Tears cascaded down her cheeks in endless flowing bands but there was no sound that escaped her lips except for the slight hitch to her breathing, as she silently struggled to force air in and out of her lungs. She let go of her wounded arm and her right hand reached up for the rung just above her head. Grunting, she pulled herself up, her feet pushing against the wall and finally connecting with the rung that had been chest level when she had been standing. Up another rung she went, refusing to look at Spike below as she ascended, she knew what she had to do.

One more rung further, just to be sure, and she stood with shaking legs, leaning into a rung that cut across her stomach as she let go. Carefully and quickly she pulled her dislocated arm around the rung, the wall scraping her flesh. It was a tight pinch but it would have to do. With her right hand wrapped tightly around her left wrist, she stepped away from the makeshift ladder. The counterweight and force snapped her arm back into place as Buffy gritted her teeth, trying to keep in a scream that was eventually let loose to reverberate in the small space and hurt her ears. She found her footing quickly and pulled her arm free, jolts of pain streaking down from her collarbone to her fingertips.

The descent was agonizingly slow, each step down sent waves of pain induced nausea through her tiny body. Finally her feet hit the ground and the wetness barely registered; her socks already soggy from the previous battle. Her purchases lay strewn about but she made no move to collect them, the whole thing seemed like a world away. Instead she approached Spike. She gauged the space between his unconscious form and herself sharply. Vampire’s rarely slept soundly, or if they did Spike wasn’t among them. Sometimes he would feign sleep, like when Dawn wanted to drag him to a movie but his eyebrows would always inch up ever so slightly, his tell. Buffy kicked his booted foot. His eyebrows didn’t move, but she didn’t even notice.

Her voice was oddly calm and collected, almost with an indifferent sort of air and even to her own ears it sounded foreign. “Get up.” There was no movement. Again she kicked his foot, leaning a bit closer to him. “I said, ‘Get. Up’.”

It was then that she noticed the blood. She had witnessed on several occasions Spike’s nose being broken, even twice by her and it had always bled bright red buckets-full that would stain her jacket and the carpet if they weren’t careful. But this time there was only a thin trickle that ended at the top of his lip. And something else was off… She leaned in closer, hovering over him so near that her short hair brushed against his body. The coloring was odd. It was not the bright cherry red of fresh wounds or the plum color of an old injury. It was almost a gray color, a strange hue less tint, like red meat that had been left to rot on a counter.

“Spike?” Gone was the cool air her voice held before. “Spike? This isn’t funny…” She warned him, inching her body away, almost tempting him to leap up and grab her and shove her concern in her face. But he didn’t move, his body stayed slumped against the sewer wall, half sprawled in the contaminated water.

She tried a different tacit, an open palm slap across his face, not too harsh but definitely felt. His body didn’t even twitch. Buffy retreated back, her eyes darting from her stinging hand to his motionless face. And an odd sense overcame her, something surreal and undesirable that harked back to her mother’s death. The body laying there, the horrible sound of her ribs cracking as Buffy fumbled through the motions of CPR. Spike seemed very far off, like her mother had, and without any movement his pale flesh became just flesh, a body, one already dead.

She turned away and shook her head, attempting to push through the haze that filled her mind. Instead she closed her eyes and concentrated on the pain, something concrete in a hazy world. And fumbling for her stake, she knew what she had to do.

*****


Dawn gulped, unnerved by the new vibes her friend was suddenly sending. “Me?” She said, just managing to keep her voice steady.

Just as suddenly Janice pulled back, as though nothing strange had happened. “Of course you!” She bubbled cheerfully. “You are, like, my best friend! Having you here on a more permanent basis would be the best!” She twisted her hands together, thinking of the right words to say. Dawn was skittish at best, and when cornered…well, she’d just have to be careful. “Wouldn’t it be so great? No big sis to boss you around? I could get you a fake ID and everything! We could do whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted!”

Dawn fingered her new auburn tresses, thinking. It would be nice to just pretend to be a normal girl for awhile and not be the key a merciless hell-god was seeking. To not be in hiding with a slayer and a vampire who pretended to be a couple for her sake, when it was obvious that they were barely restraining themselves from a real relationship. Pulling herself away from her thoughts, she addressed her friend. “I don’t know, Janice. I don’t have any money or any clothes or anything.” Dawn said.

“Don’t worry about it! Fake ID, remember? I can totally get you a job at the club I work at! My boss is way cool. He’ll hire you on the spot.” Janice said, feeling Dawn beginning to waver.

Dawn smiled hesitantly. “That does sound like fun…” She said. Mind made up, she gave Janice a determined look. “Okay, I’ll stay. No promises though. I need to get to Sunnydale eventually.”

Janice jumped up and down squealing. “This is going to be so great! We can stay up all night, and live on ice cream and pizza!”

Janice’s happiness was contagious, and Dawn soon joined her, jumping up and down while holding hands. “I can’t wait!” She said, eyes shining. Suddenly, the clasp to her necklace slipped, and the cross she wore under her shirt tumbled to the ground.

Janice abruptly let go of her hands, pointing to the fallen piece of jewelry. “What is that?!” She spat disdainfully, slowly inching away from it.

“This?” Dawn asked, picking up the treasured item. She was confused and a little hurt by her friends’ reaction. “It’s my cross. Buffy gave it to me about a year after she was—I mean, after we moved to Sunnydale.” Revelation dawned on her, and she eyed her friend warily, knowing full well the only kind of creature that would have that kind of reaction to her cross.

Seeing Dawn’s suspicions arise, Janice covered quickly. “Sorry ‘bout that, Dawnie.” She said gently. “It’s just that me and religion don’t jive well. It’s a really pretty cross. Maybe I could wear it sometime?”

Dawn relaxed visibly. “Don’t worry about it.” She said, shrugging. “I promised Buffy I’d never take it off, though.”

Janice just smiled, while inwardly fuming. That could prove a problem in the near future.

Dawn smiled back. Her suspicions about Janice were wrong. After all, she had offered to wear it didn’t she? Dawn’s smile faltered. That meant everything was okay….wasn’t it?



AN: Look for Chapter Nine on 5/16/05 and biweekly updates from then on.





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