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Thank you so much for the kind reviews. Really means a lot to me... going to update two chapters tonight, because you might not get another over the weekend.

[A/N: Standard disclaimers in effect. Quotes as attributed.]

Previously: Willow brought Buffy back from the dead. Spike brought her home. Giles was on his way to London, then turned right around to head back to Sunnydale after checking in with Spike and finding out what happened. This is the next morning/afternoon.

14. Sisters and nightmares.

Factum est illud, fieri infectum non potest.
Done is done, it cannot be made undone.
Plautus

Whatever you do, do wisely, and think of the consequences.
Gesta Romanorum



He sat and watched them, until utter exhaustion claimed him. The two girls were curled up together on the bed, long strands of brown and dark gold flung across the bedspread, Buffy’s arms wrapped around her sister. Tear tracks were visible on both their faces and neither girl’s face was content. Buffy’s features, though partially obscured by the fall of Dawn’s hair, reflected the ravages of her fate. Deep lines were etched there, indications of how long she’d been gone, and how difficult a journey coming back had been. He didn’t want to think of her being buried in the ground, hadn’t wanted to focus on that at all. Didn’t want to remember how hard it had been for himself. Dawn, on the other hand, had a look of relief on her features. Relief that Buffy was back. He had an inkling that she didn’t care, wouldn’t matter to her why Willow’d done what she did, or where Buffy had been, or how hard it had to be being here after so long. Dawn had the innocence of youth, not really understanding about the climb out of the grave. It was all so simple for her.

Hours he watched over them, noting the changes in their breathing, the twitches and spasms that were indications of deep fatigue. It hadn’t taken long for either girl to drift off into sleep, but neither one was sleeping peacefully. The sun had been up for a while, when Spike had finally given into his own fatigue.

When he woke at first he had no idea where he was or why he was sleeping sitting up. Realization came quickly, as his sense of smell returned. Buffy’s room. Looking around, he idly noted the time on the clock. Two bloody hours of sleep. Sniffing the air he tried to figure out what had woken him, when a muffled cry from the bed caught his attention. Buffy was crying in her sleep, her limbs twitching and her hands clutching and scratching at Dawn. Her ragged nails caught on Dawn’s exposed skin, raising welts and in some spots blood. Spike reacted instantly.

Grabbing at her as gently as possible, Spike eased Buffy’s hands away from the sleeping girl, though at the rate she was going, Dawn wouldn’t be asleep much longer. In fact, as he moved to get a better hold on Buffy, Dawn rolled over and woke up. Soft tears and incoherent mutterings broke the silence of their breathing. Her words were too low for Dawn to hear and for that Spike was grateful. It was enough to break his heart, the things she was saying and muttering, and most likely it would send Dawn off the deep end. There were some things she just didn’t need to hear.

“All right pet, its all right. You’re not there anymore, c’mon love, open your eyes.” Spike kept his voice soft and low, yet still speaking over Buffy’s cries. “C’mon open up your eyes.“

Dawn watched from her side of the bed, blue eyes wide with distress, unable to speak. Buffy’s fingers were frozen like claws, scratching at thin air, while Spike held her wrists in an unbreakable grip. His voice kept going, trying any way to reach her, his tone even and calm. He was beginning to think she was not ever going to respond to his voice when abruptly she broke down into a heap, crumpling and mewling his name. “Spike help me. Please, please Spike.”

Gulping sobs and hiccups sounded in the room, the only noise evident. Spike gathered her up in his arms, holding her close. “S’okay pet, I’ve got you. Its all right. “ he just kept repeating the words over and over, hoping to calm her tears.

Dawn reached out a tentative hand, hoping to just touch Buffy, but when the girl felt her touch, Buffy jumped and moved away. She shot a hurt look at Spike, almost in blame, but at his arched brow, Dawn relented, understanding that perhaps it wasn’t his fault, that it was the nightmare causing the problem.

“Sshhhh. Its all right pet. Hush your tears. I’m right here.” Gently rocking her back and forth, Spike rubbed soothing circles on her back. Dawn leaned her head against his other shoulder, needing the comfort she’d come to rely upon while Buffy had been gone. It took some time, but finally Buffy had stopped crying, her breath still hitching and gasping. Brushing his hand down her tangled hair, Spike wished he could find a way to ease her through this, make it easier on her somehow.

Shifting slightly on the bed, Spike leaned back against the headboard, both girls within the reach of his arms. Buffy was still curled up in his lap and Dawn had slipped her head under his arm, her head resting on his upper shoulder. The girls were facing each other, their warm breaths wafting over his chest. He was deliciously warm, the heat they were generating seeping into his bones. Believing they both had drifted off back to sleep, Spike sighed, thinking about the two of them. Buffy’s head picked up a little bit, the top of her head brushing against his chin. His hand drifted down her back, absently smoothing the cloth. Resting his head against the wall, Spike reveled in the moment. This was almost worth the pain of the last couple of months. Almost.

Her voice took him by surprise. “Thank you.”

“No worries pet.”

Dawn hugged him tighter, conveying her thoughts without words.

It wasn’t long before they all fell back to sleep.


******************************* *******************************


Giles was bleary-eyed and punchy. He’d been flying for nearly, looking down at his watch, he tried to calculate exactly how many hours he’d spent airborne in the last day, and couldn’t come up with an accurate number. His brain felt like mush. His legs were cramped, his posterior was numb, and he had a pounding headache from the forced air that blew constantly around his head. The solicitousness of the stewardesses was driving him insane. He’d made an instant turn around, not even bothering to clear customs after hanging up the phone with Spike. He’d managed to stop one of the ground personnel, conveying his urgent need to return to California. Citing a desperate family emergency, telling the ticket agent that his daughter had been in a fatal accident, they quickly by-passed all the necessary paperwork.

He’d boarded the twelve fifteen flight just as it was preparing to taxi down the runway, the flight attendants holding the plane for the clearly desperate man. And since then, they’d never left him alone. Giles was at his wit’s end.

The astounding news Spike had delivered bare hours ago still hadn’t truly registered in his brain. Willow had used magic to bring Buffy back. Just that alone was . . . Giles didn’t have the words to describe his current emotions. Like the rest of him, he imagined his emotions were, at the moment, numb and disconnected. Most likely, none of this would be real until he was back in Sunnydale, Buffy sitting next to him.

Still reeling from the news, Giles chafed at the delay. The plane was still somewhere over the Atlantic, hours from his destination. Even with the time, Giles thought he wouldn’t be able to process any of this. This was just some bizarrely surreal dream, some wickedly accurate waking nightmare, from which he currently couldn’t wake.


******************************** *******************************


Tara had heard the cries from downstairs, heard Spike’s soft voice calming the terrified girl. The noises had only increased her own agitation, making sleep completely elusive. Willow was still on the couch out cold. It was, at the moment, the best place for her. The ethics of what Willow had done were just – wrong. In every single sense of the word. And then, to violate both her free will and Dawn’s was another big no-no. The words of the Wiccan Rede kept circling round her head, coupled with the rule of three. Great gods above, what had Willow done?

The oppressive heat and the fall-out from the nights activities just . . . Tara was so completely at a loss, she just didn’t know what to do. She had no idea what was going to happen when Mr. Giles got back or when Spike recovered. And, oh no! No one had called Xander. Tara looked around, half expecting someone to come up with a decision about calling Xander and Anya. For a wild minute, Tara actually considered about waking Willow up to ask her what she thought, then realized what she’d just contemplated. Understanding there was no one but herself, she shook her head. Can’t ask Spike, won’t wake up Willow. Okay, girl, should you or shouldn’t you?

In the end, it came down to one thing really, would she want to know. And her answer was yes, she would. But not over the phone. She called the Magic Box, spoke briefly with Anya, requesting that they both come over for dinner after work.

That gave her enough time to do a couple of things. First and most important, was tell Spike about it and get his help in moving Willow up to their room. Second was filling him in about the specifics of the spell she’d currently woven about Willow. Lastly, she needed to shower and take a nap. With those ends in mind, Tara headed up the stairs to Buffy’s room.

The sight that greeted her re-ordered her priorities. Spike was sitting up, his head resting on the wall behind Buffy’s bed, the headboard flush against his back. Curled up practically on his lap, his left arm curled around her protectively, was Buffy. Lying on her side next to him, her head nestled somehow between Buffy and Spike was Dawn. All three of them were asleep. Dawn looked to be the most comfortable, her legs splayed out, her breathing deep and even. Buffy’s breathing was more shallow, broken by uneven hitching and occasional sniffles. Tara imagined it was because of the crying earlier. She had little doubt that the tears were nightmare induced. As she watched, Buffy’s fingers scrabbled and clawed at Spike’s shirt, then stilled as his hand almost automatically soothed her. His breathing, while completely unnecessary, was slow and even. Well, slow in that for every count of a hundred or so, Spike inhaled or exhaled.

Tara stifled a completely inappropriate giggle, settling instead on a genuine smile. She decided perhaps, having the nap first was the best course of action. Closing the door softly behind her, Tara went back downstairs securing all the locks, before heading back to her room.

It was only ten in the morning. Tara did a double take at the alarm clock. Was that right? It felt like hours later. Setting the alarm for two, Tara climbed under the covers and tried to rest.

Her last coherent thought was to wonder who was going to get Mr. Giles from the airport.


******************************* *******************************


There was no air. She couldn’t breathe. There was no escape. She had to get out . . . Had to escape. No air. Scrambling at the fabric covering her face, she tried punching through the wood. No air. No air. NO AIR. She screamed, pounding against the wood. No . . . it wouldn’t give. No air. Desperate now, she tried again to punch through the wood, scratching and clawing at it in her desperation to escape. Out. Need to get out. Please help me out. No air. No air. Whimpers and moans escaped from her clenched teeth. No air. No escape. No . . . she couldn’t stay here. To stay was to die. Swinging her fist, she pounded against the wood.

The first indication he had that something was wrong again was the small fist battering his chest. Coming awake in a rush, Spike had barely enough time to bring up his hand to ward off a blow to his nose. His first and last instinct was to lash out in retaliation but when the hand was clasped in his struck hard, he woke fully. It was Buffy, in the throes of a doozy of a nightmare, still sound asleep.

This he could control. Untangling his arms, Spike gently but firmly grasped her flailing arms. Thankfully, her feet were still tucked up underneath her, otherwise this would be a helluva lot harder. Momentarily distracted while he made certain her feet were trapped, he let slip one of her fists, which promptly caught the side of her sister’s head. Dawn came to with a start, all set to do battle and strike back, until the sleep cleared from her eyes and she realized what was happening.

Poor Buffy was her only thought. Deep in the grip of the nightmare, Buffy wasn’t responding to Spike’s voice at all. Curling up as far away from them that she could get, yet still remaining on the bed, Dawn finally realized just how bad it was. Buffy was wild, uncontrollable and absolutely bone-deep terrified.

She didn’t think anything could ever scare her sister. Didn’t think the monster existed that Buffy couldn’t beat. Until now. This was horrible. Dawn finally discovered that her sister wasn’t invulnerable, wasn’t super-hero girl and it shook her to the core.

What amazed her though, was Spike’s patience. He held her, protected her from herself, captured her wild fists and never once lost his temper or let her get to him. It seemed to go on forever, the crying and trying to get out of the imaginary box her sister’s mind told her she was trapped inside. Her own tears slid unnoticed down her cheeks, her hand covering her mouth. Dawn didn’t know what, if anything she should try to do. And she didn’t dare ask Spike, because he needed to concentrate on calming Buffy.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when Tara’s hand dropped down on her shoulder. Tara leaned down, whispering softly, “come help me sweetie.”

Silently she crawled off the bed, her eyes still focused on the two still there.

Spike was not having fun. Nothing he said or did seemed to reach through to Buffy. His voice never hesitated, never stopped, his hands constantly trying to soothe her. He’d run out of things to say, and for once at a loss, started humming some old lullabies. There was a split second hesitation, a mere hitch in her harsh breathing, but Spike sensed it. Figuring it had as good a chance of working as anything else he’d done, Spike started humming, even though he felt ridiculous for doing so.

And, miracle of miracles, Buffy’s sobs slowed down, her fists stopped trying to escape his hold and she eventually collapsed against his chest.

Long, long minutes they stayed like that.





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