***A/N: Welcome, gentle readers, to part two of 'The Way Things Should Be': Can't Go Home Again. As you know (if you read the last chapter), the story was on hiatus - and still is. But I've been working hard on this chapter all through break, cuz I figured I'd give everyone a Christmas present. Now, I only have four classes this semester, so maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to update...oh, once a month? Ish? Hopefully! *crosses fingers* Enjoy!!***
Clouds rolled by the window, close enough to touch. Like delicate pillows or downy hair they float, untouchable, untouched. To dip one's hand into them would be not only a travesty of something so naturally perfect, but the realization of every child's fantasy; what do they feel like? Are they as soft as they look?
Staring out the window, Rupert Giles did not think on this. His mouth was set in a tight line, his glasses tossed carelessly to the side, and in fact, he did not see the clouds at all, but rather a replay of moments that danced across his eyes like a moving picture.
'What does all this mean?' Giles asked himself, ruminating on the last day's events while soaring above endless water; a prophecy handed down through the generations and two strange new misfits additions to his Frankenstein family.
Dawn arriving home with traces of blood on her hands, a new potential, a prophet, an angel, a vampire and a Slayer following in her wake, bloodied but not broken, weary but not rundown. Explanations understandable and cryptic and nauseating so late at night before the seemingly unending flight to Heathrow and then the connecting flight to his ultimate destination.
When did everything get so out of control? Bloody buggering Powers that Be…
The stewardess paused at his side, offering coffee. He asked for Earl Grey and another pillow. Momentarily, he eyed the briefcase lying in the window seat before lifting it into his lap and popping the latches.
Pages and pages of notes, referenced translations, copies of maps and spells. A four page printout of descriptive and organized instructions in Willow's familiar hand. On and on it went; there was no room for interpretation here, no margin for error.
'Only Andrew would be able to bollocks this up,' thought Giles. The stewardess arrived with his tea and pillow, not a second glance given to the questionable contents of his belongings.
He sighed, snapping closed his briefcase and resigning himself to the sleep that had begun to tug at his eyelids. Propping his pillow behind his head, his eyes slid closed and for those precious few moments while his mind was completely unbiased and reflective, he thought that perhaps he had underestimated Spike all this time…
****
When Willow had arrived with the Potentials in tow, Giles had known something was wrong. Kennedy was dusty, Willow looked shaken, and Buffy was nowhere in sight.
"Where is she?" he'd asked, and he'd been presented with six simultaneous retellings of what transpired in the graveyard.
Now they all waited in strained silence, arguments finished, course of action decided.
"We should go help them!"
"No, Xander. If she'd wanted help she would have asked for it."
"Buffy can be extremely rash, Willow. Perhaps Xander's right…"
"She thought it was a trap. She was torn between saving her sister and protecting the girls. She did what she had to do."
"But what if she's wrong?"
They'd been silent since Anya's voicing of their innermost fears. What if Buffy was wrong? What if she'd chosen the wrong path and it ended in her death? Again?
But they stayed, immobile in their uncertainties, until they heard the voices outside. The front door opened - the room held it's breath.
"…and then, Wham! Fire shot everywhere and the guy was burning! You should've seen it, Buffy; Dawn was amazing."
Spike, his arm draped across the younger Summer's shoulder, gave her a squeeze. "Just like her sis and mum, she is. Ain't that right, luv?"
Buffy smiled at them and nodded affectionately. "She's getting real good at fighting, considering she has no super-powers to help her."
The inhabitants of the house slowly leaked into the foyer to watch the easy and open conversation unfold. The mysterious boy was there, bringing up the rear, closing the door softly behind him. Two girls they'd never seen before were giving the Slayer and Vampire an account of their apparent battle against the First Evil's harbingers.
Willow cocked her head as she felt the waves of power emanating from the different people. One of the girls was clearly a Potential; half-realized strength coursing through her body, lingering beneath the surface. Dawn was resonating all sorts of strange auras, strength and intelligence and courage, too. The other girl reminded her of Tara, with her earthy blend of wiccan magic and raw power, but something of an unnatural mystic flavour came through as well. And that boy…Willow wasn't sure what to make of him. He was unlike anything she had seen before, both golden light and cloudy ferocity woven into a wicked blend of power. She shuddered lightly before Buffy caught her eye, effectively ending the silent observation.
"Hey," Buffy said, nodding towards them in greeting. Most nodded back, some did nothing, and Andrew, in all his nerd glory, excitedly waved in greeting.
"What happened?" Xander asked. Dawn rushed to tell her version of the story, but the other two girls quickly began interjecting and overriding with comments of their own.
"No, no! She was all with the plan-making, don't believe how she tells it."
"Oh, come on! I so could've kicked his ass!"
"No, there were more. There must have been! They were everywhere, hundreds of them!"
"Hundreds? Give me a break, Amanda. More like fifty."
"Nuh-uh! I counted, and I'm telling you there were 75, including the ones that Buffy and Spike and Zeke took out before they found us."
The girl they called Amanda and the still unnamed one rolled their eyes at Dawn, though Buffy nodded in agreement. "That sounds about right, Dawnie."
"75 Bringers! Are you joking! The six of you took out 75 Bringers…" Chloe looked about ready to pass out, but Vi jumped right in asking questions.
"How did you do it? Did you get hurt? Are there bodies or do they dust like vamps? Are there more? Can we go kill them?"
Giles pushed the inquisitive girl behind him and turned a wary eye to the newcomers. "Buffy, I'm glad to see you and Dawn are all right…" Spike's exclusion wasn't lost on her, and she folded her arms defensively across her chest, preparing for some long-winded speech about how careless she'd been, protecting vampires, inviting people of questionable loyalties into their fold, blah blah blabbity blah.
"…but I do wish you would have taken back up."
Her eyes narrowed. "I did." She gestured to Spike and Zeke. "Witness my backup, Giles."
He removed his glasses and began polishing them - Spike took it as his cue to head to the basement. The non-Scoobies felt the tension level in the room rise to considerable heights and felt extremely uncomfortable.
"Guys," Dawn began, but immediately an argument broke out between the adults in the room.
"It's not wise for you to be battling the First's minions on your own."
"I wasn't on my own. Spike was with me. He's always with me."
"What's that supposed to mean? That we're not there for you? Cuz we are Buffy, you just won't let us."
"Xander, let's not turn this into an attack on Buffy."
"Oh, so now there's something wrong with me? Again?"
"That's not fair Buffy…"
"I think it's very fair. You've been trying to fix everyone else's lives to your own liking without consulting them, demon or otherwise. I don't like it. It makes me twitchy."
"Well, geez. Sorry I make you twitchy Anya. Would it help if I conjured up a bunny for you?"
"That isn't funny! Xander, tell her how not funny that is!"
"Don't attack Anya, Will. That won't get us anywhere."
"So now you're siding with her? I thought you were my best friend?"
"Yes, yes!" Spike bellowed from the basement. "He saved the world with a bloody crayon! Now can you gits stop being so self-involved and get to solving the real problem here!"
The Scoobies glanced at each other guiltily. Dawn cleared her throat.
"The Bringers attacked the school, Amanda's a Potential, Jade's the Prophet and, apparently, Zeke is the fallen angel."
"Protector, actually," he corrected, before disappearing into the woodwork again.
"I don't think they were after me. Or Jade, even. But Amanda was definitely a target. We barely escaped with our lives. Thanks to Spike and Zeke, not just Buffy." Dawn copied her sister's defensive stance, daring the others to question her judgment on this.
****
Spike was hungry; sitting in the basement, trying to catch snippets of The Conversation, and he had nothing else to distract him but the rumblings of his stomach and the moaning of his demon. He sighed wearily and rose from the cot.
Upstairs, Dawn had her ear pressed to the kitchen door, trying to hear everything Jade and Zeke were telling the others. She heard Spike clomping up the stairs and almost panicked at the thought of being caught before she realized that this is Spike and he's probably wanting to know what they're saying too.
The basement door opened. Their eyes met - he nodded in greeting. He made his way to the refrigerator and pulled out a bag of blood. Keeping his curious eyes on Dawn, he reached sightlessly into the cupboard and unfalteringly pulled out Spike's Mug, the one Joyce had given him that night she comforted him after Dru left.
"Can you hear much from there?" he asked with a cock of his head. Dawn waved frantic hands of silence at him. They both paused, waiting for…
"What?" he demanded. She sighed.
"You totally made me miss something!" she whispered angrily before climbing onto one of the stools and starting one of the patented Summers pout sessions. Spike ran a hand through his hair and tried not to look at her fat bottom lip.
"Sorry Niblet. Didn't mean to ruin your fun."
"'S not fun…it's just I'll never find out otherwise, you know? If Buffy wanted me to hear everything she would've invited me to the meeting."
He eyed her askance. "Maybe it's not her that disapproves of you hearing all that nasty stuff, eh? I mean, look at me - I wasn't invited either. But anything important gets said in there, she'll tell me. She'll tell you too, I suspect."
Dawn's face brightened with hope. "Really?" she asked.
"Really." He handed her a mug. "How 'bout some cocoa then?"
****
Buffy set out to walk Jade home, and Zeke had just…left. No one was really sure where he was going. Willow was already upstairs getting Amanda settled in - it had been a unanimous decision that the girl should stay there now, since it was obvious that she was known to the First.
Giles rubbed at his sleep weary eyes. Too much stress for an old man, I think. He pushed himself heavily from the table, deciding on a cup of tea. Should he make a whole pot or just a cup? Perhaps Willow would like some when she comes downstairs…
He paused at the door to the kitchen as voices floated out to him.
"…it's just this little piece of metal, you know? It shouldn't be enough to stop William the Bloody, now should it? But it did. Well, that and falling for your sister, but that last part just made me a ponce."
"What's a 'ponce' anyway?"
"Loser. Pathetic. Um…well, I'm not a walking thesaurus. You want more, look it up."
"I will."
A gap in the conversation. Then;
"What was it like?"
"What was what like?"
"Your first kill."
Giles could picture the scene in his mind. Dawn would be sitting at the island, two hands wrapped around a mug of cocoa, staring into it's depths as if she was posing the question to some indefinable point within, rather than to the other person, the man leaning against the counter with an empty cup dancing between hands too active to put it in the sink.
And in fact, the image was picture perfect, except for one thing. The look of both horror and intrigue that had found residence in Spike's features.
For a time he did nothing, simply stared at his precious girl while she nervously awaited some form of answer. He wasn't sure what to say. He'd always been horrible with words, he knew that, mincing them and stretching them and contorting them into something unrecognizable. So he decided on the truth.
"It was wonderful. Amazing. I was filled with excitement and wonder and it made me more than a little hor-…happy! Made me very happy. It was a beggar, on the streets of London. Wasn't very tasty, mind you, but it sated something inside me."
"The demon," she whispered.
"Yeh, that's right. The demon. That thing inside me that screams for violent release. All the time. Every moment." He paused for dramatic effect, to make sure he had her attention.
Giles, on the other side of the door, was waiting on bated breath for him to continue his story. Though he was torn between barging in there and putting an end to a tale that would surely give the young girl nightmares, he couldn't help but be excited to finally learn something about William the Bloody, scourge of Europe. There was virtually nothing written about him, and it would be a bit of prestige for him to be the Watcher to land a chunk of Spike's biography.
"Even now," Spike continued, "even with the soul, sometimes…sometimes I want to lose control to the demon. It would be easier, not having to fight it anymore. It's a constant struggle - a tug-of-war.
"My first kill had no name; at least no name that I enquired after. I drank his blood, I tore apart his body, because I was hungry. Hungry for blood, hungry for carnage."
With supernatural speed he reached a hand across the counter and gripped Dawn's wrist. She gasped in panic and tried to pull away, but he had a grip of iron.
"Look at me," he demanded. Dawn met his eyes, and he saw the fear there, bordering on betrayal. But he didn't let go.
"What you did tonight…that wasn't murder." Dawn's eyes widened. Had she been that transparent? Did he know her that well?
"It was slaying. What your sister does every night to protect the world from evil. You saved my life tonight, Dawn. No one else was around to. No one else could have. You did what you felt you had to do. It was instinct, yeah?"
She nodded, still wide-eyed, and tears began to spill down her cheeks. With his free hand he wiped them away, smearing her make-up a little, getting mascara smudged onto his thumb.
Her throat began to choke up, and she didn't know if she could speak. "They look so human, though," she whispered hoarsely, a hiccup of sorrow marring her voice.
"So do I - but I'm still a demon."
Dawn was now sobbing. Spike pulled her into his cool embrace, muttering hushes and comforts as he stroked her hair and back. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, and they remained that way until her tears subsided.
Giles was…well, he supposed he was in awe. Of what, he wasn't entirely sure yet. And probably wouldn't be until he had a few healthy doses of scotch. He decided against the tea for the time being - he'd allow Spike to console Dawn a little while longer.
****
Guess what? The next chapter's Spuffy!!! Bet you can't wait now! Mwahahahahaha!...