Disclaimer:  I don’t own or profit from BtVS.

Remember When

Thanks so much to Obscurebookwyrm who has kindly agreed to take me to task for all my errors.  Her efforts will make reading more enjoyable for all of us!

Spoilers:  Ted

A/N:  I should mention that I actually like Joyce and sympathize with her.  I know it’s hard, especially early season Joyce.  She threw her daughter into a sanitarium and drank too much, but look.  If my fifteen year old daughter came home and said, “Hey Mom, I burned down the school gym because it was filled with vampires” I would think:

1)            My daughter is a creative genius, but not very bright if she thinks I’m going to swallow that whopper.

2)            I need to have her pee in a cup.  What’s the copay for rehab?

3)            She’s still going on about this?  Does she really believe in vampires?  Dammit, I knew I shouldn’t have dropped acid when I was pregnant!  I need to find a good therapist, STAT!

So you see, I think Joyce’s reaction was perfectly reasonable.  As for the drinking…  The woman just went through a divorce.  I drink just to make it through that damn seasonal choir crap at my kid’s school and quality time with the in-laws.  Her husband left her (reason unknown, but I can assume for a younger woman) with an unstable teenager who believes in vampires.  She had to move to a new city, start a new job, and has no adult friends.  I’d be drinking like a freakin’ fish.  I’d be surprised if she wasn’t on antidepressants.  Poor woman.

Chapter Nine

Buffy shifted her weight as the flow of kids out of Dawn’s junior high slowed to a trickle.  It wasn’t like Dawn to keep her waiting.  Especially during the winter when the shadows crept in earlier and vamps moved around easier.  She gnawed her lip, looking up and down the street.  The pick-up crush had lessened and there was only a smattering of parents left waiting for their children.

Buffy stepped off the curb where she usually waited for Dawn and sprinted across the street and up the steps to the junior high.  A quick survey showed Dawn’s classroom was empty and her locker abandoned.  To be thorough she checked the principal’s office.  Dawn had never been a troublemaker, but the incident last month with the note had thrown Buffy for a loop.  She irrevocably blamed Spike.  The menace was a horrible influence.

When it was clear Dawn wasn’t in school, Buffy loped down the street towards home, her mind racing faster than her legs.  It was broad daylight, but as she learned in the last few weeks Angelus could be diabolical in his planning.  Was it possible that he somehow got ahold of Dawn?  Was she his prisoner?  Was he torturing her? 

Was she dead?

The thought struck her as she reached her front yard, knocking her off balance.  She braced herself against the thick-trunked oak tree, her palm abrading on the rough bark.  She bent at the waist, one hand tucked into her kidneys as she dry-heaved at the image of her broken and bleeding sister lying on a dirty cement floor, Angelus crouched over her.

No!  Her sister wasn’t dead!  She would have felt it if something happened to her.  She would have!  They had a bond.  Something special between them.  Oh, God, Dawn!  Buffy dug deep, delving into her Slayer strength to control the panic rioting though her slight body.

She roughly swiped her forearm across her sweaty brow, chiding herself for wasting time.  If Dawn was out there somewhere, then she was relying on Buffy to find her and bring her home.  Resolute, Buffy pounded up the steps to her house, bursting inside, only to come up short like a dog on a choke chain.

Dawn was sitting on the couch, her thin, rayon windbreaker wrapped around her skinny little body, her hands trapped between her knees.  Dawn’s eyes flashed to hers, before hunching her shoulders against Joyce and Ted.

“What’s going on?”  Buffy cursed her breathlessness when she noticed Ted’s dark gaze flicker to her heaving chest.

“Your sister decided to cut school today,” her mother told her scathingly.  Joyce walked to the wet bar to pour herself a vodka and tonic.  Buffy eyed the clock on the wall.

“What?”  Buffy’s question was pointed at Dawn, but her little sister curled into herself more deeply.  Buffy took the time to really look at her.  There was something terribly wrong.  She could sense it.  Dawn didn’t look at anyone in the room.  She stared at the toes of her shoes with unnatural stillness.  When confronted with wrongdoing she usually was a spitfire of action as she vehemently denied any culpability, even if she was literally caught with her hand in the cookie jar.  Dawn’s silence was highly uncharacteristic, and deeply disturbing.

“I got a call from the school saying Dawn was absent today.  When I got home she was already here looking guilty as hell.”

Buffy drew closer to Dawn, and her sister lifted her head to meet her eyes.  Buffy caught her breath.  Anyone else looking on would only see a little girl upset at being caught out, but Buffy could see that something far more serious was going on.  Dawn was upset.  Deeply so.

“She was undoubtedly with those delinquents that frequent the mall.”  Ted explained with patient stoicism that set Buffy’s teeth on edge.

Buffy winged a finely arched brow at him.  “Why are you even here, Ted?”

Ted’s charming face darkened at her tone.  “I asked him here,” Joyce interjected.  “I needed help.  First the incident with the note, and now this.  She’s becoming a troublemaker just like you, Buffy.”  Joyce flung her empty hand into the air in a gesture of disgust.  “Who knows, maybe next she’ll burn down the school gym.”

Buffy inhaled sharply, hurt and betrayal stinging her chest.  She couldn’t see the horror on her mother’s face with tear-blurred eyes.

“Buffy, I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean it.”

Buffy waved her away.  “Don’t worry, Joyce.  I’m sure you aren’t gonna hafta ship her off to the nuthouse like me.  Dawn isn’t like that and you know it.  She’s a good girl.”  Joyce winced at the venom and deep-seated betrayal in her eldest daughter’s voice.  She tried to move closer to comfort her, but Buffy stepped away, her back and shoulders impossibly straight.  Joyce sighed, knowing she had lost her.  Buffy was going to punish her for at least a week, and by the time they made up, Joyce would have an even higher, impossible-to-pay down balance on her Visa. 

She wished she could take the thoughtless words back.  It seemed all she ever did was drive a wedge between her and her eldest.  Ever since the Event as she started to think of it.  It had been the catalyst for the separation between mother and daughter.  Buffy had burnt down a gym.  A gym!  At fifteen, the court wanted to charge Buffy as an adult and send her to prison.  Not juvenile detention.  Prison!  They wanted to put her baby in jail with a bunch of hardened adult criminals.  The best the court-appointed attorney could do was admit Buffy for psychological evaluation.  Joyce had felt terrible about it, but not completely.  Whatever had been going on, whether it was drugs or just bad company, her daughter needed help, and Joyce hadn’t been equipped to give it.

Besides, it was better that Buffy was away.  Joyce knew Buffy hated her for it, but there was no reason for her daughter to witness the fights she and Hank had over the situation.  There was no reason for Buffy to hear what her father said about his eldest daughter in fits of rage.  It was bad enough that he chose then to leave them for that woman, but to blame it on Buffy?  He was a coward.  She eyed Ted, who stood by the corner of the couch, his face passive in the face of teenage outrage.  Perhaps this was a man she could rely on to help her with her daughters.  Because she needed help.  Desperately.  She set down her unfinished drink and braced herself.

“Buffy, please understand.  Behavior like this just escalates.  I think we both want what’s best for Dawn.”

“I hardly think skipping school qualifies as ‘behavior.’”  Buffy curled her fingers into air quotes while flashing her a dirty look filled to the brim with teenage loathing.

“When I returned home last night, I found forty dollars missing from my wallet, and your mother is missing fifteen from her purse,” Ted spouted smugly. 

Buffy rolled her eyes.  “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I think it’s evident she stole it, then went to the mall to spend the money.  If she would tell us the truth we could return the items and her punishment would be less severe.”

“I don’t think you have any right to talk about punishing my sister, Ted,” Buffy growled.

“She deserves a good hiding with a belt.  That’s what my father would have done.”

Dawn whimpered and instinctively Buffy moved closer to shield her.  If Ted thought he was going to touch Dawn he had another thing coming.  Human or not, Buffy would put him down with extreme prejudice.  Yeah, that’s right.  Too many action films with Xander.  Sheesh.

“Now, I don’t think that’s necessary.  I don’t believe in corporal punishment, Ted,” Joyce interceded, but Buffy sensed the feebleness in her mother’s tone.  There was something about Ted that made their mother weaker than normal.  He dominated her.  Infantilized her.  It made Buffy very edgy.

“And that is why your children are out of control, Joyce.  You asked me here for a reason.  They need to be taken in hand.”

“Dawn is not out of control,” Buffy hissed.  Boy howdy did she want to punch him in the nose.  She bet he’d be a real gusher.

“So you admit, you’re out of control,” Ted condescended.  Buffy had to look away before she did something she would ---well not so much regret as get her into a butt-load of trouble.

Buffy couldn’t believe Dawn would steal anything.  She was such a goody-two-shoes most of the time.  She dared a quick glance at her sister, shocked when she saw a guilty flush edging Dawn’s cheeks.  Along with the guilt was fear.  Buffy reacted on instinct.

“Dawn didn’t steal the money.  I did.”  Buffy stood up straighter, glaring at Ted and her mother, daring them to call her a liar.

“Buffy, how could you?”  Joyce exploded.  Her cheeks bloomed red as she glanced at her boyfriend.  Perhaps calling him wasn’t the best idea.  She hated that he was seeing this side of her children.  She was humiliated and had no idea what to do with Buffy.  How did one punish a teenager who sneered at your authority?  Joyce picked up her drink and took another gulp.

“She didn’t cut school either,” Buffy continued, ignoring her mother’s outburst.  “She wasn’t feeling well after you left and I told her to stay home.  I just forgot to tell the school.”

Joyce looked startled, but Buffy was watching Ted.  His cheeks flushed florid, and she could see anger brewing deep in his brown eyes.  He flicked his gaze to Dawn, then back to her.  He didn’t believe her for one second.  She lifted her chin and stood her ground.

“Dawn, go upstairs.”

“Buffy!”  Joyce reprimanded.  “You are not the parent here.”

Buffy pinned her mother with a censuring gaze.  “Well, Ted sure as hell isn’t.  And you…”  Buffy glanced at Joyce’s drink, the implied insult lingering between them.  “Dawn, go.”

Dawn scampered up the stairs without a second look.  Buffy folded her arms and waited for her punishment with stoicism that would do a Biblical martyr proud.

Hours later, Buffy’s voice was hoarse from screaming and Joyce was weeping in the living room, a cold compress held to the back of her neck by Ted.  A few times Buffy thought she was going to have to defend herself from Ted, but the overbearing man managed to keep his threats of corporal punishment just that.  Threats.  Buffy climbed the stairs wondering where she was going to come up with the money, by tomorrow, to replace what had been stolen.  She told Ted and her mother that she had put some stuff on layaway, so she didn’t have the cash right then.  The dark glimmer in Ted’s eyes told her he had some idea on how to get his money’s worth from her before tomorrow.  She shuddered.  How her mother became entangled with such a disgusting man, Buffy had no idea.

She opened the door to her bedroom, not at all surprised to find her sister huddled on the bed.  Buffy slammed her door shut, jolting Dawn out of restless sleep.  Buffy had some very choice words to say to her sister, starting with a list of chores she would be taking over to pay off the debt, Buffy just took on for her.  Buffy was surprised when the adolescent scampered off the bed and straight into her arms with a ragged sob.  She had come up here with the full intention of reaming her sister good, because Buffy intuitively knew that whatever Dawnie had gotten up to was of the very bad.  She closed her arms around her sister in a tight hug, only to stumbled back when Dawn let out an agonized groan of pain.  Buffy held her at arm’s length, prying open the oversized windbreaker Dawn was wearing.  Beneath it, Dawn was hiding the scorched, ragged remains of her clothing.

Buffy gasped, quickly and efficiently stripping her sister down to her Disney Princess underwear.  She gentled her touch when she saw that Dawn’s stomach and upper thighs were bright red and blistered with burns.

“What the hell, Dawn?!  What happened?”

Dawn buried her face in her hands and cried hard enough to make her thin shoulders shake.  Buffy gulped and did something she never had to do before.  She pulled out the first aid kit to tend to Dawn’s wounds for once, instead of the other way around.  She was gentle and methodical, uttering soothing sounds whenever her sister flinched away from her touch.  Eventually, all the wounds were salved and bandaged, and Dawn’s sobbing had eased to pitiful whimpers.

Buffy dragged the throw off the foot of her bed and settled it around her sister’s shoulders.  She sat back on her heels on the floor with Dawn perched at the end of the bed, reaching out to take her sister’s hand in her own.  Her little sister sniffed a couple of times, lifting her red-rimmed eyes to meet Buffy’s concerned gaze. 

“Now, tell me,” she prompted.  She sat perfectly still and listened in horror as the story unfolded.

When Dawn dried her tears and Buffy was no longer in danger of hyperventilating, she tentatively broke the silence in awed wonder.

“So let me get this straight.  You gave Spike a friendship bracelet?”

Dawn stared at her older sister, her lashes wet and spiked with tears.  “I tell you I almost died, and this is what you focus on?”

Buffy blinked.  “Right.  Never mind.  So the burns?”

“Are from when he ran out into the sunlight.  I was still on his shoulder when he started to burn.”  Dawn looked uncertain, her boney fists shoved between her legs.  “Why would he do that, Buffy?  Why would he die to protect me?”

“I-I don’t know,” Buffy answered honestly.  There was no logic to the minion’s actions.  No reason she could see.  Unless it was because his love for Spike was so great he would sacrifice himself.  But it couldn’t be love, could it?  Vampires couldn’t love.  So was it loyalty?  Honor?  Could vampires feel those emotions?  If they could feel honor and loyalty, then why not love?

And what about Spike?  Why would Spike risk a minion for Dawn’s safety?  He hadn’t ordered the minion to go all kamikaze and run out into the sun, but the vamp obviously interpreted Spike’s request to see to Dawn’s safety as a mission to be completed at all costs.  Why did the minion think Dawn’s safety was of utmost importance to Spike?  What was it about Spike that inspired such loyalty?  Was it just a vampire thing?  Minions were made to live and die for their masters.  Perhaps the minion wasn’t all that bright and interpreted Spike’s request in the severest manner possible.  Maybe she would drive herself crazy just thinking about it.

Buffy leaned forward on her toes, brushing her fingers across the bruises on her sister’s throat.

“So Spike had you and he just let you go?”

Dawn’s pixie face scrunched with confusion at her sister’s question.  “Yeah.  Why wouldn’t he?”

“He’s starving,” Buffy murmured quietly, searching Dawn’s gaze.

“Totally.  I coulda counted his ribs, Buffy.  He looked like those mangy dogs you see in alleyways.  All beat up and starving.  Ready to eat any little scrap.”

“Right.  Ready to eat anything.”

Dawn blinked at Buffy uncomprehendingly.  Buffy shook her head slowly and just stared at her sister.  How had Spike passed up such a prime opportunity for a living, breathing meal?  Was Dawn actually telling her that Spike chose to drink pig’s blood instead of the sweet-smelling little girl he literally had in his arms?

“What do you mean, beat up?”  Buffy asked, pushing away the enigma of Spike for later consideration when she was alone in her bed.

“Oh,” Dawn gushed.  “He’s all bruised and scratched.  Some of them are really deep.  Like someone took one of those gardening tools to him.  You know?”  Dawn hooked three fingers and clawed them through the air.

“A hand rake?”  Buffy offered.

“Yeah,” Dawn nodded enthusiastically, before her eyes darkened.  “How do you suppose that happened?”

Buffy thought about Dru’s blood-red nails and shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Maybe he fell down trying to get to his wheelchair or something.”

“I guess.”  Dawn was unconvinced.

Buffy stood up and pulled one of her old nightgowns from her bureau drawer.  Dawn lifted her arms like she had when they were little and Buffy used to get her ready for bed.  Buffy settled the nightgown around her sister, flipping Dawn’s long, brown hair out of the collar, and smoothing it with gentle hands.

“I have to patrol, but I want you to stay here tonight.”  Buffy told her while turning down the sheets to her bed.  Wordlessly, Dawn crawled beneath them.  It was still early, but she was exhausted.  She settled in, curling on her side when Buffy drew the blankets up to her shoulders.

Buffy pressed a kiss to her forehead, and for the first time since the factory, Dawn felt herself relax.  She was safe.  Buffy wouldn’t let anything hurt her.  Dawn’s eyes fluttered closed, and behind her lids she saw Angelus’ sulfuric gaze as he rubbed his hand between his legs.  Her eyes shot open and she gripped Buffy’s wrist before she could withdraw.

“You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

Buffy’s face softened, and she ran her fingers through Dawn’s hair.  “Of course.  I’m the most safest slayer ever.  I’m all about the safety.  I’ll wear a hardhat and an orange vest, even.”

Dawn snorted and Buffy smiled.

“I---“ Dawn wavered.  “I think Angel wants to do more than just make a meal out of me,” she whispered.

Buffy’s fingers tightened in her sister’s hair.  What to say?  Everything in the last few months seemed to circle back around to sex.  The worst kind.  Not the loving kind, but the hurtful, power-hungry kind.  Even the magical night she shared with Angel had been turned into something twisted and evil.  Maybe the horror movies had it right.  Have sex and get skewered by the bad guy.  What about sweet, virginal little Dawnie?  How did Buffy keep her safe?  How could she prevent her from growing up, and learning about all the badness circling around?

“You know, Spike’s never looked at me like Angel does.”

“No,” Buffy said.  Spike didn’t look at Dawn like she was a sexual creature.  He looked at Dawn like she was a little girl who needed to be protected.  And maybe lessons on hugging etiquette.  “Spike doesn’t look at me like that, either.”  What was with the twirl of disappointment low in her stomach?

“No.  He looks at you differently,” Dawn replied knowingly.

“How so?”

Dawn turned to look Buffy in the eyes.  “Like, maybe you make him sad somehow.  Or maybe he’s just sad on the inside.  I think he’s lonely.”

Buffy shook her head.  “He’s not lonely.  He has Dru.”

“Yeah,” Dawn’s expression was wise beyond her years.  “And he just happened to fall on a hand rake.”

Buffy swallowed around the rawness in her throat and looked away.  She started to get up, but Dawn’s hand tightened on her wrist.

“You can’t go to the factory, Buffy.”  Dawn’s voice was tight, sad and scared.

“Me! Dawn Summers, if you ever do something so completely boneheaded again I’ll….I’ll…”  Was it above board for big sisters to give little sisters butt-whoopin’s?

Dawn yanked her closer.  “I won’t.  I swear I won’t.  I learned my lesson.  It was a stupid, stupid thing I did.  I know that now, but Buffy, you can’t go either.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Buffy replied softly, struck by the shadows of sadness and fear in her little sister’s big blue eyes.  When Buffy looked at her sister she saw a little girl, but when she gazed into her eyes she saw broken-hearted maturity that shouldn’t be there this young.

“Don’t do it,” Dawn whimpered.  “I don’t want you to die ever.”

Buffy leaned down and pressed her now clammy forehead to her sister’s.  Pinpricks of dread spread across her skin.

“I’m not gonna die, Dawnie,” Buffy vowed, trying her damndest to believe it.

“Then you better be able to kill Angel, ‘cause I don’t think he’s gonna stop until you’re dead.”

From the mouths of babes, thought Buffy.  “I know.  I can do it.  I can.”  She tried to convince herself.

Dawn’s fingers bit into Buffy’s wrist.  “Don’t go.  Not tonight.”

“I promise I won’t go to the factory tonight.”  Buffy pried her sister’s hand away and rose from her bedside.  She slid on her jacket and opened the window.

“Do you think Spike’s okay?”

Buffy perched on the windowsill, grimly staring out into starry night.  Angelus would be enraged at losing his prize.  A prize denied to him by Spike.

“Yeah, Dawnie.  I’m sure he’s fine,” Buffy lied.  “Vampire, remember?  They always land on their feet.”

She shoved off from the window and landed ten feet below on the soft grass.  She walked into the night, her back straight and her shoulders set.