Title: A Time To Mourn
Author:
Roxane
Feedback: Send to roxsedai@nycap.rr.com
Archive:
Sure, take it…just let me know where.
Spoilers:
Up to and including the Gift
Rating:
PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I make nothing. Here to
write, wanna have fun.
Summary: A sequel to my story "Aftermath", which shall
henceforth be called "A Time to Weep."
This will be an ongoing series…who knows how long it will last…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dawn expelled one last shuddering breath and relaxed
against him, but she made no move to leave the security of Spike's arms. He continued to hold her until he felt her
stifling a yawn against his shoulder.
"That's
it, Niblet, time for bed."
She
shook her head and clung tighter to him, but he used gentle force to push her
away. She stood swaying before him,
barely able to keep her swollen eyes open.
With an exasperated click of his tongue, he swept her into his arms and
carried her out of the living room and up the stairs to her bedroom. He eased her onto the bed, covering her with
a blanket when she rolled over onto her side.
"Don't
leave," she commanded sleepily.
He
sighed. "I'll be downstairs."
She
nodded and he could tell she was asleep midway through the movement. He watched her sleeping form for a minute
then quietly let himself out of the room, leaving the door ajar. He went into
the living room and flung himself into the armchair, shoving his hand into his
pocket to find his cigarettes. He was
just taking a long draft when Giles wandered into the room, teacup in hand.
"Where's
Dawn?" the Watcher asked.
Spike
waved the cigarette towards the ceiling without speaking, blowing the smoke out
in one long stream.
"Is
she asleep then?" Spike nodded in response. "With all she's been through, I'm
sure she'll sleep a good while. There's
really no need for you to stay."
"I'm
staying."
Giles
blinked, his brow wrinkling as he contemplated the vampire, who very studiously
ignored him. Giles set his cup on the
coffee table and settled onto the couch.
Spike sighed and shook his head when Giles spoke.
"I
find it rather fascinating to observe a vampire who, to all intents and
purposes, appears to have genuine feelings for humans."
"Certain
humans," Spike muttered.
"Nevertheless,
it's unheard of for a vampire to care, to love. Of course, there was Angel – "
"Bloody
hell, twice in one night!"
Giles,
lost in his analysis of the situation, ignored Spike's frustrated
outburst. "But then, Angel has a
soul. It begs the question, does love
emanate from the soul? Is it possible
to love without a soul? Are these
feelings real or merely a twisted manifestation of desire and lust?"
"You
do realize that I'm still in the room, don't you?" Giles's eyes came back into focus as Spike added, "Feel free to
keep the blathering to yourself."
"Sorry."
Spike
began a mental count and had only reached nine when Giles spoke again. The vampire sighed and slouched deeper into
the armchair, wondering how long the pain would last if he knocked the Watcher
silly.
"I
can't help feeling there must be some higher purpose to all of this." Giles took a sip of his tea, then waved the
cup in the air as he continued. "Why
are you different from all other vampires?
Even Angel, once returned to his soulless self, abhorred Buffy, yet you
love her. That chip cannot make you
love, it merely prevents you from harming humans."
"Wish
I didn't have the bloody thing right now, let me tell you," Spike said under
his breath.
"Vampires
have been known to have what we would term human emotions, " Giles went
on. "The strange loyalty that a vampire
has for his sire, for instance. I
suppose one could say that has something to do with a pack mentality, the
respect an animal has for the alpha male, or female, as it were, but then
again, Angel killed his sire for Buffy, and you were prepared to do the same to
Drusilla."
"Fat
lot of good that would have done me."
"Well,
no, I should think not." Giles's eyes
narrowed as he thought. "You loved
Drusilla, therefore the capacity to love has always been in you. Vampires have been known to take mates, but
it has always been more of a possessive thing, a melding of strengths, while
you seemed to genuinely care for her."
"Care
for her? I bloody worshipped her."
Giles
regarded the vampire with a puzzled look on his face. "How is it that you could love two women who are the absolute
antithesis of each other?"
"Just
lucky, I guess."
Ignoring
the sarcasm, Giles rose to his feet, circling the room at a slow pace as he
mulled over the possibilities. "You
were with Drusilla for over a hundred years.
What changed? Could it be the
chip? Does preventing you from doing
harm somehow allow your human side to resurface? Has your human side merely
been dormant for all this time? Did the demon not possess all of you to begin
with? Could a portion of your soul
still be intact?"
"Could
you be any more dense?" Spike surged to
his feet and stepped into the Watcher's path. "You don't need a soul to
love. That's something you humans cling
to to keep you warm at night. Look at
Dawn. Doubt she has a soul, yet she
loves and cares and hurts as much as any of you."
Giles
stared at Spike, an arrested expression on his face.
"I
loved Drusilla with everything that I was, everything she made me. I embraced the
evil, and her along with it."
"Then
why – "
"It
was Buffy, you bloody moron! She
changed everyone around her. Look at
Willow. Do you think she would have
ever discovered her powers without Buffy?
Or the Harris boy, a complete and total loser, who now wades straight
into battle without hesitation, without benefit of superior strength or powers
of any sort."
A
small smile played about Giles's mouth.
"And you?"
"Oh,
well, with me she did the complete opposite.
Took me from being gloriously evil to being a bloody mooning
milksop. I expect she's laughing about
it right now…"
Pain
flickered across his face and Spike turned away, lifting his cigarette to his
mouth and inhaling deeply. He let his
head fall back, closing his eyes and letting the smoke out on a long, deep sigh.
"Dru
made me want to be a better monster.
Buffy…"
He
turned back to face Giles, meeting his eyes with unflinching honesty.
"Buffy
made me want to be a better man."
~~~~~~~~~~~
As
morning neared, Spike moved around the silent house pulling the drapes
closed. Giles had finally, blessedly,
fallen asleep on the sofa an hour before, and Spike found himself alone with
his thoughts, unable to sleep. As the
pastel rays of first light began to creep over the horizon, he battled a fierce
urge to just leave, to get as far away from all humans as he possibly
could. Not only did they all tend to
yammer on, but caring for mortals was unbearably hard on a vampire.
Life
- or unlife – used to be so simple. You
hunted, you fed, you shagged. Yes, he'd
adored Dru, but it had been so uncomplicated compared to this…this horrible
aching shell he was left with. And he
couldn't even end the suffering, no, that would be too simple. Even without his
promise to Buffy, he didn't think he could have left Dawn to fend for
herself. There was no telling what kind
of trouble the sister of a Slayer might find herself in. Many a demon might be looking to exact some
sort of revenge now that the way seemed to be clear.
The
girl had spirit, though. Had to give her that.
Summers women were nothing if not strong and resourceful. Still, she felt she needed him, and that
tugged at his heartstrings like nothing else could. He'd promised Buffy, and now he'd promised her as well.
And
this time he wouldn't fail them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spike heard the knock at the front door and ignored it,
not particularly wanting to deal with any of the Scoobies just now. Unfortunately, whoever was there was persistent
and from his vantage point in the armchair in the living room, he saw Willow
step through and ease the door shut behind her. She stood uncertainly in
the foyer until Spike took a drag on his cigarette, and she started when she
saw the tip flare.
"Oh. Spike. Hi."
"Will."
"I...What are you doing here?"
He blew the smoke out, regarding her through the haze with narrowed eyes.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to see how Dawn was doing."
"Me, too. Fancy that."
"Is she..." She sat in the other armchair, lowering her voice when
she
noticed Giles sleeping on the sofa. "How is she?"
"How would you think she is?"
She flinched slightly at his harsh tone. He
shook his head with a tired sigh and softened his voice. "She's
scared.
She's feeling guilty. She's ...lost."
Willow looked down at her hands, nodding. She clasped her hands together
to
keep them from trembling, but she couldn't keep a slight quake out of her
voice.
"What's going to happen now?"
"How the bloody hell should I know?"
He stood and flicked his used cigarette butt into the teacup on the
coffee table.
"Will
there be a new Slayer?"
He stood with his back to her, closing his eyes and bowing his head.
"Does
it matter?"
"Yes, it matters."
The answer came quietly from Giles. He sat up when Spike and Willow
looked at him and answered the unspoken question in their eyes.
"The world is without a Slayer now. Glory may be gone, but there is
still
all manner of evil to be fought."
"Won't another, I mean, doesn't this mean a new Slayer will be
called?"
Willow asked.
"Kendra was called when Buffy..." He paused, swallowing the painful
words. "...the last time. For a new Slayer to be called, Faith would
have to die. Therefore, for the first time in centuries, there is no Slayer to
protect the world. Buffy should have
thought of that."
Spike
snorted. "Yes, God forbid the Slayer think of anything other than the bloody
world. The Slayer should be nothing
more than a fighting machine, uncaring and unthinking, doing her duty and nothing
else."
"It's
a sacred duty, Spike. A Slayer is
created to serve the world."
"The
world above all else, is it? And she
gets no choice in this? Tell me, how is it that you humans can place so much
stock in heart and soul and yet expect your Slayer not to have any?"
"It was her heart that got her killed."
Spike
stepped in front of Giles, speaking in a low yet forceful voice. "It was her
heart that kept her alive as long as she was."
Willow
angled her head towards the stairs.
"Uh…guys..."
Spike
ignored her. "Don't you understand that she was more than just a demon
exterminator? That her very capacity to
love was what made her so much greater than any other Slayer before her? Take that away, and she's really no better
than the demons she was fighting."
"I
beg to – "
"Beg
all you like, you – "
"Hey!"
They turned as Willow stood and gave them a chiding look before heading for the
stairs. "I hear something."
Spike
abruptly became aware of sounds coming from above, muffled whimpering
cries. With a stifled curse, he rushed
past Willow, taking the stairs three at a time, Willow and Giles following as
fast as their bruised human bodies would allow. The sounds, cries of fear and pain, grew louder as he neared
Dawn's room, and though he couldn't detect any signs of struggle, his eyes
swept the room for possible intruders as soon as he shoved her door open. Relief coursed through him to find no one
but Dawn in the room, but that quickly faded as he saw her tossing fitfully in
her bed, obviously struggling against the captors in her nightmare.
"No! Let me go!"
"Dawn."
He sat next to her on the bed and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking
gently. She tried to jerk away from
him, arms flailing, and he gripped her tighter, giving her a brisk shake. "Dawn!
Wake up."
Willow
sat on the opposite side of the bed.
"Don't hurt her."
Still
holding Dawn, he shot Willow a dark look.
"I'm not hurting her, I'm trying to wake her before she hurts
herself."
With
a sudden gasp, Dawn's body stiffened and her eyes flew wide. "Buffy!"
Spike
let go of her shoulders and rose to his feet, and Willow reached a hand over to
give her hair a reassuring pat. "It's
okay, Dawnie, it was just a dream."
Dawn
looked from Willow to Spike, her breath coming in soft pants. Pain filled her
eyes and, drawing in a deep breath, she turned on her side and closed her eyes,
shutting the two of them out. "Yeah,
right, just a dream."
Helpless
to figure out how to comfort the girl, Willow looked at Spike. He shrugged. She sighed and tried to inject
as much cheer in her voice as possible.
"Hey,
would you like some breakfast, Dawnie?
I could – "
"I'm
not hungry."
"Are
you sure? I could make pancakes and
…" Her face brightened. "Strawberries! I bet you'd like some – "
"I
said I'm not hungry."
"But
– "
Spike
broke in. "She's not hungry. Leave her be."
Willow
looked from Dawn to Spike to Giles, who was hovering in the doorway. Giles gave a slight shake of his head and
Willow sighed.
"Okay,
well, if you change your mind, I could make it in a snap. Well, not a real snap, like snapping the
fingers or anything magicky, but snappy quickness would be involved." She saw
the look Spike was giving her and shut her mouth. "Going now."
Spike
watched Giles and Willow leave and heaved a dramatic sigh. "Well, Little Bit, I hope you don't expect
me to hang about down there with just those two for company. I know I've done some evil things in my life,
but no one deserves that torture."
She
opened her eyes and graced him with the tiniest of smiles, and he answered with
a slight smile of his own. He turned
and walked towards the door, pausing to throw an inquiring glance over his
shoulder.
"Coming?"
She
nodded and slowly rose from the bed, wincing as her wounds pulled at her.
"Actually,
could you send Willow back up here? The
doctor told me to change the bandages every day, and I don't think I can reach
all the way around."
"Will
do."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Willow
knocked on the closed door then poked her head into the room with a tentative
smile.
"Dawnie? You need me?"
"Yeah. Could you help me change my bandages?"
Willow
stepped in, her smile broadening. "Sure
I can. Be glad to."
Dawn
eased her shirt over her head, revealing stark white bandages covering her
torso. She unfastened the tape holding
the bandages in place and began to peel the white gauze away. She looked up when she heard a sharp intake
of breath from Willow to see the witch staring in horror at the long gashes in
her flesh.
"Oh,
Dawnie."
She
shrugged. "I'll live."
Immediately,
a mix of pain, guilt and confusion crossed her face and she looked down,
removing the last of the gauze. Willow
picked up a package of fresh bandaging and opened it, trying desperately to
think of something deep and meaningful to tell Dawn, something that would wipe
away all the hurt and fear she was feeling.
She
held out the white roll. "Here."
Okay,
not quite the level of profound she had been looking for.
"Dawn
– "
"Don't." Dawn shook her bowed head. "I know what you're going to say. 'It's what she would have wanted' or 'She
wouldn't want you to feel guilty' or 'It's not your fault'. I know all
that. It doesn't help."
"Okay. Then…will it help at all if I say I'm here
if you need me? I know, I'm not Buffy,
or your mom - I could never take their place - and I wouldn't want to, not
really trying even, but I'm here. If
you, you know, need someone. To talk
to."
Dawn's
eyes flicked up to Willow's compassionate ones, before she looked back down at
the roll she was unwinding.
"Yeah. Thanks."
"And
Dawnie?" Willow waited for Dawn to meet
her eyes. "It is what Buffy
wanted, Buffy wouldn't want you to feel guilty, and it's not your
fault. Okay?"
Dawn's
lips twisted, but she nodded. "Okay."
She
held one end of the gauze in place as Willow began winding it around her.
"Willow?"
"Hmm?"
"Where
is she now?"
Willow
paused. "She's at the same place they
took your mom."
"Can
I go see her?"
"Dawn
– "
"I
want to see her. Besides, it's up to me
to pick out a coffin this time, isn't it?
And – and all those things Buffy did for Mom, right?"
"I'm
sure Giles would – "
"No. I want to do it." She looked at Willow, her jaw clenched. "I have to."
Willow
met her eyes, impressed by the girl's newfound maturity, and saddened that it
was necessary for one so young to grow up so fast.
"All
right. But Tara and I will come with
you, okay?"
Dawn
released a tense breath. "Yes. Thank you."
Willow
nodded and went back to the bandaging.
She taped the gauze into place and gave it a satisfied pat. "There.
All done." She rose and headed
for the door. "I'll see you
downstairs. I want to make sure Giles
and Spike are behaving."
"Willow?"
She
turned back, and she could tell by the look on Dawn's face that she was going
to ask something she didn't know how to answer. And she was right.
"What's
going to happen to me now?"
She tried to sound much more sure and
optimistic than she felt. "Hey, you're
going to be fine! You've got all the
Scoobies looking out for you. How many
teenage girls can say that?"
"What
about my dad?"
Another
wonderful question. Willow had quite
the struggle to keep the scorn from her voice.
"Well, so far, we haven't managed to contact him, but I'm sure he'll
come as soon as we do."
"They
can't make me go live with him, can they?"
"I
– "
"I
hardly even know him any more. Can't I
live with you and Tara or something?
You guys could even move in here."
"Dawn,
Tara and I'd would love to have you, but I'm thinking Social Services won't
care for the idea of two…" She paused.
" um…well, you know, two college
students taking care of a young girl."
"They
let Buffy take me. And I promise I'll
be good."
"Oh,
I know you would, sweetie, but Buffy was your sister. It's not the same thing…for them, I mean."
"Couldn't you talk to them?"
Willow
met Dawn's pleading eyes, and she didn't have the heart to deny the girl some
bit of hope. She lifted one hand,
giving a lock of Dawn's hair a gentle tug.
"We'll
figure something out. We Scoobies stick
together!" She paused, suddenly not
sure if they would still be the Scoobies anymore, but she shrugged that
depressing thought away for the moment.
"I'll talk to Giles and the others, okay?"
"Okay." Dawn gave a satisfied nod, but then a
thought occurred to her. "But maybe you
should wait until after - after the funeral."
Willow
stared at Dawn, once again impressed.
She nodded.
"After
the funeral."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It
was over.
The
Slayer had been put to rest.
Surprisingly
enough, the funeral had been attended by a large number of people. Though she had had only a few close friends,
many more had apparently appreciated her efforts to keep Sunnydale safe. People had foregone for one day their denial
of the strange events that happened here to pay last respects to the woman who
had protected them for five years. They
had quietly filed by the Slayer's sister, expressing their sorrow for her loss
as well as their gratitude for all the Slayer had done. Beneath the cover of the trees surrounding
the gravesite, and with the added protection of a heavy blanket, Spike had
watched her, marveling at her courage, admiring the way that, through it all,
Dawn had remained gracious, accepting their wishes, thanking them in turn. All
in all, she had displayed a strength that, in retrospect, was unsurprising.
The
only crack in the wall had come when Dawn had had to sprinkle the first handful
of soil onto the coffin. She had held
the dirt in her hand, and Spike had seen her lips start to tremble, but plucky
thing that she was, she held it together and slowly lifted her arm and let the
dirt drift onto the coffin. She had
allowed Tara and Willow to lead her away, but only after once again extracting
a promise from Spike to come see her.
That
had been hours ago, the sky was dark now, and Spike still had been unable to
make himself leave. He stared at the bare mound of earth covering the Slayer's
grave. As a vampire, death had nothing
of finality to it, but he knew that Buffy would not rise, there would be no
more fights, no more quips, no more…her.
But something in him simply could not accept that she was gone.
He
had no idea how long he stood there before he felt someone approaching behind
him. He took a puff on the cigarette in
his hand, and though he appeared unaware, all his senses went on alert and
trained on that unseen presence, his muscles tensing in preparation for a
possible attack. He felt whoever it was
lunge at him, and he swiftly stepped to the side, just as a dark shape came
flying by, landing with a grunt on the fresh grave. He watched as the black-clad figure scrambled to its feet,
swiveling around to face him in a stiff, crouching stance, and seething
features came into view.
"Spike,"
the other spat.
"Well,
well, well," Spike drawled.
With
a casual air, he dropped his cigarette on the ground, mashing it into the grass
with the toe of one booted foot before looking up to regard the new arrival
with utter disdain.
"Angel."