Buffy hadn’t said a word since Dawn had left; as she sat she tried to form a lie. God knows where Giles was, but eventually he would want to know what had happened, and now that Dawn had found out and all her worst fears were realised she knew she couldn’t tell Giles the truth as well.
However Spike was trying to think of ways to fix everything, not hide it. He knew Dawn needed her space and that going after her would be a bad idea. It was too soon now, but eventually when she came home he would need to say something to her. He was trying to think what, and how they could avoid all this when they told Giles.
And if they’d talked instead of sitting there in silence thinking in their own heads, they would have known how differently they were reacting. Sat side by side they didn’t realise the ocean that swam between them.
Buffy felt her guilt eating away at her insides, like if it didn’t stop there would be nothing left. How could she do this to Dawn? How could she do something that would alienate her this way, abandon her when she had no one?
She imagined what Dawn was going through, the confusion. It would be confusing, because from her side it would seem like incest, especially with the way Buffy and Spike had been playing happy families. She would never understand how for months they had been the furthest from siblings, because they had hidden that from her.
Dawn would be angry too; she might see it as shaming Joyce’s memory, or a personal slight to do something so taboo behind the family’s back. It was all done in secret, so of course she would be feeling betrayed. After the other night Buffy had made a new link with her, an unspoken promise and she had broken it. She had lied and deceived her ever since. She didn’t blame Dawn for leaving.
In a way maybe Spike had been right all this time, maybe she should have been told sooner. Although deep down Buffy doubted it would have gone any differently she could have been spared the betrayal. Either way it was too late to explain, too late to justify anything. It had been done wrong and there would be no going back.
Dawn walked all the way to Janice’s, she tried not to think about it, but her mind wouldn’t let her think about anything else. The sick feeling was still there, but mostly she was angry; the rage inside her was too much to bear. Every step she took made her angrier, as if every second she filled up with more repulsion; it made her footsteps heavy.
Stopping she felt like she was going to scream, but when Janice opened the door something else swept over Dawn. She couldn’t quite label it, but whatever it was forced the tears out. They weren’t angry tears, she didn’t know what they were but they wouldn’t stop.
She stepped inside and Janice put her arms around her. Janice’s mom popped her head out of the kitchen and on seeing Dawn and the state she was in she stepped into the hallway, concern in her eyes. She put a hand on Dawn’s back, steadying her as she cried.
Dawn’s plan had been to tell them everything. She didn’t know if it was a need for revenge, to air the dirty laundry and spill the secret they were obviously trying so hard to keep; just to make them feel a sliver of what she felt right now, but in the end the words wouldn’t come. She hated them.
Spike did feel sympathy, because not in a million years had he wanted his little sister to see him that way, but unlike Buffy his main feeling wasn’t guilt, it was disappointment. After all the progress they had made he thought Dawn had seen how her recent actions were selfish. Once Buffy had acknowledged but still laid to rest her fears about their mother she had been thinking of others a lot more. After that how could she not even try and see things from their side?
It wasn’t entirely his fault to think this way, because he’d spent too much time rationalising the situation to himself. He’d forgotten how it had been at the start for them, how difficult it had been to admit their feelings to each other, to shelve them in a place that was considered okay. He’d forgotten that to the outside world what they were doing needed a better explanation than love, that a story needed to be told, that even that might not be enough.
It was like the child’s theory of mind, how children under a certain age can’t comprehend any state, thoughts or feelings other than their own, even if at one time in the past they’d experienced them themselves. He couldn’t understand her point, and he couldn’t empathise with her pain.
He just kept thinking she was selfish, because right now was his and Buffy’s time. They had had their conflict, they had experienced enough guilt and enough troubles, and they had pushed through it all. He and Buffy were finally happy and now Dawn was in the way. He never thought he would resent his own sister.
Dawn didn’t have anything with her apart from the clothes she wore, nothing for school if she did decide to go, nothing to sleep in or wear tomorrow. She couldn’t brush her teeth in the morning, or comb her hair. But nothing would make her go back to that house.
Janice’s mom changed the sheets on Janice’s bed and they both put her to sleep. Janice made do with a sleeping bag on the floor, feeling that Dawn would need her close. She didn’t ask her why she was here, she thought she already knew.
Dawn had made up some excuse to Janice’s mother; the lie that eventually came out was about her feeling like a burden at home. She didn’t want to talk about it she’d said, but she just needed some space. It was clear Janice’s mother wanted to pry a little, but she never would and Dawn knew it. She even got her to promise not to ring her house.
It might have been shame that made her lie about why she was here. Part of her couldn’t admit what she had seen; it was just too much to process. She felt shame for herself, for their mother, and for their family as a whole.
“I should have known Dawn would react like this.” Buffy said breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” Spike agreed, “We should have told her sooner.”
Buffy inwardly flinched at that idea. She’d thought about it, but if they had told her sooner this would have just happened sooner.
“Really?” she asked him, trying to gauge where he was in his head, as it seemed so different to where she was.
“Of course,” he replied, “then she wouldn’t have had to find out that way. She wouldn’t have had to see and then that wouldn’t have blinded her when we tried to explain…” He corrected himself remembering Buffy’s frustrating silence throughout the whole ordeal, “When I tried to explain.” He added, “She would have understood.”
“She would have understood.” Buffy repeated, as if it was the silliest thing she’d ever heard, and it offended him.
“Buffy,” he gaped, “this doesn’t change anything between us.”
Buffy didn’t acknowledge that with a response. It changed everything.
He saw thoughts going through her mind, she was struggling with something. He didn’t know what to say to her, so he stood up and hugged her, but he felt her pull back almost immediately.
“I think we should cool things, Spike.” she said.
“What?” he asked a little too loudly. “‘Cool things?’ We’re not 15.”
“Just until Dawn’s over everything.” she sighed. “Don’t you see? It’s the only way. She’s never going to come home, not like this.” To her it was as simple as that. They couldn’t be together now, maybe one day, but now she needed to be here for Dawn.
“She’s never going to be over it.” Spike said breathily, “She might never fully understand, you always knew that was a possibility.”
Buffy didn’t deny it.
“I think you were right,” he said desperately, “I think you were right when you said this thing between us wasn’t something that could be left and picked up whenever we wanted. So if you do this, if you do this we’re not going to ever have a chance.”
“You’re giving me an ultimatum?” she stated calmly and paused, not so much waiting for an answer, simply turning over the thought in her own mind.
She felt like an earthquake had started in her knees, the kind of earthquake that’s all consuming once it builds momentum, so she tucked it away the best she could. She tensed her body to stop herself from shaking until she could be alone, but the pressure squeezed the tears from her eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Spike.” she said, “But you’re not just asking me to choose now or never, you’re asking me to choose you over Dawn.”
“I’m not.” he said, but even as he said it he knew she was right.
“You are,” she sighed, “Dawn’s not going to talk to either of us while we’re together, and she has no one else. I can’t abandon her, so if you want me to make a choice, it’s made.”
“And that’s that?” he asked finitely.
She nodded.
He screwed his eyes shut and pushed past her, no longer able to look at her or even be in the same room as her. Once he left she let the quake take over. She shook with the force of her grief, now not only for her mother but for them, and she didn’t stop shaking for hours.
He sat in his room mulling over his options, but there was only one thing he could do now. He phoned Oz and told him to expect him back in New York by the end of the week.