CH 6
If there was one thing Spike knew how to do it was keep a low profile. Not that he liked to, mind, but he could do it if there was a good enough reason. Had done it often enough for Dru. Hell, he'd done it not two months ago while looking for the gem of Amarra, and he'd had to put up with that airhead Harm while doing it.
Keeping a low profile didn't necessarily mean holing up every moment of every bloody day. Bloke still had to eat, had to be able to move, to breathe (figuratively if not literally). Had to hunt. Or, in his case now, go to the bloody butcher's. And he could do that without the Slayer knowing he was about.
Had taken a good round of argument, but he'd managed to convince the Bit of that as well. Though that may have had something to do with the fact that he'd also given her an enormous wad of cash at the time of the conversation. Her cash –first portion of her share of the treasure profits– but still. And even then he had to promise to avoid the campus, the Bronze, the Espresso Pump, the mall, the far tunnels near campus and in the woods on the edge of town, Willie's, and pretty much all the other demon haunts— Right, so he pretty much had to avoid everywhere, but he could go to the butcher's to get his blood, and the hospital for the same, the corner mart for booze and smokes, and the local Wally World for digs for his crypt. Made sense the Slayer wouldn't step foot in that joint, prissy little valley girl. Good thing, too, as it was run by demons and the world over would hardly thank her for its demise. Though perhaps they should.
Still, it was better than the dump. Almost as cheap too. And the appliances were guaranteed to work.
Even with his newfound wealth it wasn't easy getting working electric and plumbing in the crypt, but with a little ingenuity and a lot of manual labor he'd managed it. Not like he had anything better to do and he knew it was possible. Bit had told him the other him, well, him in her original "past", had done it. Wasn't going to lose to some alternate version of himself.
Already had a nice flat screen telly, a fridge, and a microwave all hooked up. Everything a vamp could want, so far as modern conveniences went. Got a couple of chairs too. Plump, comfy ones, in front of the telly. Might get a couch as well, but that could wait. Had a bed frame and mattress all boxed up waiting for him to finish the downstairs. Was making good progress at that. Probably be finished if there hadn't been that X-Files marathon all night Tuesday. Was good for a laugh, that show.
Thursday morning, Spike crawled into his makeshift bed on the upstairs sarcophagus confident that it would be the last day he slept there.
Which might have proven true if he'd actually been left to sleep. Unfortunately, he'd barely settled in for the morning when the crypt door inched open and a cheerful Dawn crept in.
Had they not had this conversation about vampire sleep cycles?
What was she doing here, anyway? Had her own place now, didn't she? Nice place too. She'd shown it to him and invited him in, just in case he ever needed to find her. He'd stopped being surprised by her overwhelming trust in him. Had to or he'd go barmy. Besides, was kinda nice to have someone around who believed in him, who actually liked him. He'd never had that before, not living or dead. Didn't mean he didn't still occasionally want to tear her throat out though.
Like now. Now when after a busy night of carting rubble and digging at walls all he wanted was sleep, and she was preventing that.
Least she'd remembered about the door this time. And she was trying to be quiet.
He pushed himself up on one elbow slightly, watching through squinted eyes as she bustled about his make-shift kitchen. What was all that junk? And how had that slip of a thing managed to lug it all here? More importantly: how had she done it without being seen? Cause if anything was going to get him caught out it was a chit hauling groceries to the crypt in the middle of the soddin' day.
"Oi, Bit, leave a bloke in peace, won't you?"
She turned, genuine remorse on her face. "I'm sorry, did I wake you? You usually sleep like the dead, pun definitely intended. I was just gonna set up while you slept."
Choosing to ignore for now the fact that she knew how he slept, and also not to admit that he'd only woken because he'd not quite been asleep yet, he instead focused on the last thing she said.
"Set up? For what?"
She grinned, holding up what appeared to be a store-bought pie. "Thanksgiving!"
It was Thanksgiving today? Bloody hell! He should have waited another few days to buy his kit. He briefly considered taking them back, but then decided it would raise unnecessary suspicions. The telly and the microwave fit in the Desoto, but he'd had to have the rest delivered to the edge of the cemetery. He could only imagine what the delivery man had thought. Though being from Sunydale he might be used to it.
"You want to help?" Dawn asked, turning back to her groceries.
"Uh, no. I want to sleep."
She pouted. "But you're awake now. Come on, it'll be fun."
He was seriously tempted to throttle her at the moment.
"Creature of the night here, remember? Besides, I'm British, we don't celebrate Thanksgiving." Not to mention vampires didn't celebrate any holiday. 'Cept maybe New Year's Eve and St. Patty's day. Could feed right out in the open when people were that drunk.
"Yeah, well, I'm not, and I want to celebrate."
His gaze narrowed in sudden suspicion. "This isn't about me stayin' in, is it? Because I wasn't kidding. I don't need a babysitter."
She held up her hands in a gesture of defense and maybe placation too, hard to tell with this one. "I know and I'm not keeping an eye on you, I swear. I just don't have anywhere else to go."
Looking into her face he suddenly knew he wasn't going to win this. When had he ever? He'd always been love's bitch, but apparently he was going to have to revise that: Love's bitch and friendship's whipping boy? Not quite the same ring, that, but probably true enough.
Sighing, Spike pushed himself up and braced himself with his arms. Sleep obviously was not in the cards today. "Got a place now, yeah? Go there. Don't see why you're spending so much time here if you're not afraid I'll slip my leash."
Dawn laughed. "Make up your mind, Spike – first you're a baby, now you're a dog. Which is it?"
"'M a sleep-deprived master vampire, and you'd best not forget it, little girl," he growled.
Immediately she was contrite, though not afraid. "Sorry," she said quietly. "I'm just kinda lonely. Everyone I love doesn't know I exist."
And that clinched it. If there was one thing Spike knew and loathed it was being alone. He wasn't built for it and neither was this sweet thing. Right now all they had was each other and he'd be doubly damned if he pushed her away.
Not that he was keen on letting her know that.
"Right, you can stay. But I'm not havin' any of this Thanksgiving rot. Put that mess down and we'll watch some telly."
She contemplated a moment and he almost thought she'd go home, because she certainly wasn't moving toward the telly, but then she brightened.
"I'll make you a deal. You help me with Thanksgiving and we'll take a field trip later today." He scowled and she hurried on. "No, seriously, you'll love this. Buffy gets attacked by vengeful Indian spirits."
"What?" Spike shook his head. Pansy soft touches, still all turned about because of something that happened four hundred years ago. An' it wasn't as though it was unusual back then. Hell, for most of human history nations had warred over land. Didn't see the Huns apologizin' for invading China, or the Romans for overthrowing the Persians and turning the whole damn world near inside-out.
"'Cause of the taking their land and giving them smallpox thing?" He snorted. "You won. All right? You came in and you killed them and you took their land. That's what conquering nations do. It's what Caesar did and he's not going around saying, 'I came, I conquered, I felt really bad about it.' The history of the world isn't people making friends. You had better weapons and you massacred them. End of story. The Indian spirits had better well get over it."
Dawn waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, it's not because of the holiday, it's because the new construction at the university disturbed an ancient burial site."
"So they come after the Slayer?"
"Because she's the warrior leader of Sunnydale or something. Although Buffy's gonna think they're after the school board."
He snorted. Yeah, Slayerettes would think that, especially with the watcher in the lead. Thought it was all about who had a pretty title. But they should know better. Of course the spirits were gonna go after Buffy – they were only interested in real power, and the slayer had that in spades.
"Anyway, there's this whole thing with warriors and an old knife. Oh! And Angel. I have to get rid of Angel. We probably shouldn't let him see you, but if you're lucky you might get to see Buffy chew him out. What do you say?"
She tilted a pie at him, brows raised invitingly.
He almost said no, just to wipe that smug look off her face, but then he'd be stuck with Thanksgiving and no promise of entertainment. "Alright," he acquiesced. "But I'm still turnin' on the telly."
"You know there's nothing but sports and holiday specials on today, right?"
He ignored her, flipping on the screen on his way to join her and pocketing the remote just in case.
And bugger all if she wasn't right. A packet of instant potatoes and four revolutions through his pathetic basic cable package later he was forced to concede defeat. He clicked the bloody thing off, stirring the potatoes with more force than was necessary.
This thing with the Slayer had better be entertaining.
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She really hadn't meant to wake Spike. It was just that sitting in her new apartment by herself all she kept thinking was that her mother was here. Well, not here here. She wasn't in Sunnydale. Somehow the fact that her mother was visiting Aunt Darlene made the idea all the more tempting. She could go, she had money now. And no one would ever know.
The Scoobies were all at Giles' having their perfect Thanksgiving ruined by icky old-timey STDs and mystic Indian bears – whoops, that'd be mystic Native-American bears. She'd already left Buffy and Giles a note. It was the kind that would make more sense after the event than before, but it might cause Buffy to have the Indian knife on hand rather than having to run for it and spare Xander an hour or so of syphilis. She knew Buffy could handle this one, but she needed to prove the notes' trustworthiness right from the get-go, as this was her first opportunity to send one. It was the only way she could think of to get them to trust her, so that when she finally needed to send something important they would actually listen.
After some hesitation she also included a brief, if highly cryptic, mention of Angel at the end. She knew he'd be around today; remembered Buffy had been so upset that they'd all snuck around behind her back, as if she couldn't handle it. Not that it lasted long. Buffy was always too quick to forgive Angel, especially when he didn't deserve it. He caused her nothing but pain and confusion: all souled up and still playing head games. If that didn't prove Angel and Angelus were the same person Dawn didn't know what did. Anyway, all that to say she was determined to put a stake in that on-going drama as early as possible. The more Angel hurt Buffy the less likely she was to trust Spike. It was like, in Buffy's mind, all vampires were the same, so if one with a soul wouldn't stay with her, of course one without wouldn't. She hadn't seen that Spike was different until it was too late.
Dawn didn't need to be there for any of that though. She'd done her part, she could slip away and go see her mother and no one would ever be the wiser, so long as she stayed out of sight.
It was too tempting and so, in an effort to distract herself, she went out and bought all the Thanksgiving fixings she could find that were readymade or could be finished using only a microwave. The logistics of hauling five full bags of food by herself to the cemetery while ensuring she wasn't observed by the Initiative were tricky, but she still managed to arrive at Spike's crypt well before noon.
She hadn't meant to wake him. But that didn't mean she was above using her little-sisterly wiles to keep him with her now that he was up. Though he looked kinda murderous and, while she trusted his control and his desire to stay alive, she didn't want him mad at her. Bargaining was definitely in order. She didn't suppose it would hurt for them to go watch the day's action. Buffy wasn't nearly to the point where she could pick out any vamp tinglies with accuracy, let alone a specific vampire. There was the minor issue of Angel, who might or might not be able to sense family nearby, but she had a feeling he'd be too focused on Buffy to pay attention to anything else. Besides, she'd kinda been thinking some more direct intervention might be required to convince Buffy and the brooding vampire to stay apart. Maybe she could do that.
She only just remembered not to mention the bear when offering her bribe to Spike. She seemed to recall he'd had an issue with the bear. Though that could have been because he'd been tied to a chair and thought he couldn't defend himself. Still, better not to take the chance. Besides, with any luck there wouldn't be a bear this time around, if Buffy had the knife like Dawn's note said to.
She'd sliced the pie and was peeling back the film on a plastic container of turkey slices to pop in the microwave when Spike finally gave up on finding anything on TV and turned his attention to her.
"Where'd you get all this nosh, Bit? 'S a national holiday innit?"
"The twenty-four hour grocery on Main is open three-hundred and sixty-five days a year. There was an awful crowd though. I think I might have bruised ribs." She held a hand to her torso. She wasn't kidding about that. That old lady on aisle 11 had a wicked-sharp elbow and way too much strength behind it for someone that old. She had to be a demon. Seriously.
Spike looked at their spread with a raised brow. "Didn't have to get so much."
She shrugged. "It's Thanksgiving, overeating and leftovers are part of the tradition."
"'Cause this is such a traditional holiday meal you're having, in a crypt with a vampire."
She stuck her tongue out at him and, after the slightest hesitation, he returned the gesture.
He set aside the instant potatoes and began rifling through the bags. "Seriously though, Bit. You'll still be eating this at Christmas."
"Some of it's for you, you know."
He paused, taken-aback. "Vampire, here, pet. Don't need it."
"But you like it, right? You're always eating people food. Well, you were. Don't you eat people food?"
"Sometimes. Is that what these are for?" He held up box of frozen Buffalo wings and she flushed despite herself.
"I know they aren't very Thanksgiving-y, but I remembered you liked them. You don't have to eat them if you don't want to." She reached for the box only to have it moved just out of reach by her vampire companion. When she looked up his eyes were dancing with mirth. He looked so much like her Spike, only happier, that she almost bowled him over in a full-out embrace.
But if she did he'd probably freak out and get all stiff again, so she refrained.
"So, you and me, we share meals a lot in this future of yours?" He leaned casually on his new table, watching her.
Dawn stiffened. He didn't often ask, he probably knew that he didn't really want to know, but she never had decided where the line was on what she should and shouldn't share.
"Right." He shook his head. "Don't know why you're so tied up over temporal contamination or what not. Planning to turn the whole bloody timeline on its head, aren't you?"
It didn't make any sense to her either, but that feeling was still there. The one in the pit of her stomach that said not to change things unless she had to. Right now she was sticking with it.
"Doesn't matter," he said. "Know it must have been often enough. You're far too comfortable with me for us not to have been close in this future of yours. Not that I'm happy about that, mind you. Master Vampire paling around with the Slayer's kid sister. Unnatural. Should be draining your pretty little corpse by now. Wonder if you'd taste like slayer?"
He eyed her speculatively and she almost took a step back out of sheer instinct. She'd only seen that predatory look on his face once before, when she'd first found him in this timeline.
"Won't," he reassured her, body relaxing against the table once more. A lazy, contented panther once more. Still dangerous, but not on the hunt. "Promised you didn't I? Besides, find I rather like you."
She smiled, insides warming up. He was closer to her Spike than she'd thought if he could already admit to liking her. But then, he'd admitted to liking her mother already, so it probably shouldn't have come as such a surprise. He'd always had a soft spot for the Summers women.
It wasn't until he spoke again that she realized she was reaching out for a hug. "Don't you go getting any ideas." He straightened and turned back to their dinner. "Not coming over all mushy. Jus', well, 's less borin' with you aroun', alright?"
She knew better than to believe him. His accent always got stronger when he was embarrassed or uncomfortable. It was part of what made him such a lousy liar. Anyone who knew him could always tell. More cockney when he was telling a lie because the truth embarrassed him, softer and more upper-class when he was telling a truth from the heart. Souled or unsouled, chipped or unchipped, he was the same Spike she knew and loved – he was just a little pricklier.
She didn't call him out on it. Instead she turned and popped the turkey in the microwave. "I'm not getting ideas, I already had them. I told you right away we were friends. Took you enough time to catch up."
He scowled at her and she winked.
"Now hurry up and find the stuffing mix. The sooner we have dinner the sooner we can go find Buffy. You don't want to miss the action because you're sulking."
"Oi! Master vampire here, I don't sulk."
"But you do skulk," she quipped. "Hand me the spicy wings and I'll get those started while you stir the stuffing."
He was already rooting around in the bags and he handed her the box of wings over his shoulder as a peered at the stuffing label. "Better wait 'til you've heated a cup and a half of water. Got to mix it with hot, but not boiling, water."
"Alright. What did you do with the measuring cup after you heated the water for the potatoes?"
"Here."
The glass cup was deposited into her hand and then he was gone again, picking a bowl from the selection of cheap plastic things she'd picked up. She didn't mention how adorable it was to see him being so domestic. She didn't know if his self-control extended quite that far yet.
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"Shove over, will you?"
Stupid vampire. He knew Angel had super-vamp hearing, he could at least pretend he was being unobtrusive.
"Shh. Quit being so loud," Dawn scolded.
"Well, you're in the way," Spike practically whined. "You promised I could watch the fight an' you're blocking my view. Didn't you already see this?"
"No," she whispered. "Memory Dawn was with Mom visiting Aunt Darlene. Now be quiet."
"Move an' I'll be quiet."
"Spike! Angel is going to be showing up any minute now and if he hears you we are so dead." He shot her a black look. "Figuratively! I know you can take him. But if you do Buffy's gonna dust you so shut up!"
He clamped his lips shut petulantly.
"Thank you." Dawn scooted over half a foot, allowing Spike to share the hole in the shrubbery with her. Through Giles' window they could see Buffy stirring a bowl as she paced the tiny living room. She was speaking to someone animatedly, but whoever it was they were out of sight at the moment. Dawn noted with relief that the Indian dagger was strapped to Buffy's thigh.
"Thought you said there was gonna be a fight. She's just makin' dinner."
"There's gonna be a fight, I promise. I'm sorry I don't have an exact timetable, but I wasn't here, remember?"
"Better happen soon. My leg's getting' a cramp." He pouted and she fought the urge to roll her eyes.
"You don't have any blood circulation, Spike. And you don't breathe. How do you have a cramp?"
"Dunno. How do I get a stiffy?"
He leered and she blushed. Ask a stupid question . . .
"You're a pig."
"Oink, oink."
Nostalgia hit her as she remembered her sister and the vampire engaging in similar exchanges. Thankfully, before she could slip up and say something about it there was a noise from the walk.
Spike turned to it eagerly and the sat back with a disappointed huff. ""S only the whelp and his girl," he whispered. A moment later he perked up a bit. "Smells sickly though. An' not the normal sort. Haven't smelled something like that in, well, since my day." He took a deep, contemplative sniff and then turned to Dawn with a raised brow. "Where the hell'd he come up with smallpox and syphilis?"
"What?" Crap, she'd totally forgotten that the whole Indian thing had started earlier in the week. That meant the professor and the priest were already dead. She should have sent that note on Monday instead of waiting. Darn foggy fake memories and secretive fake-memory older sister. She knew there were holes in her timeline.
Well, not much she could do about it now. On the bright side, Angel probably wouldn't have stuck his nose in if Buffy had stopped the whole vengeful Indian spirit thing on Tuesday, so maybe it was a good thing Dawn hadn't sent her note earlier. Not that forcing Angel to confront Buffy was worth the lives of two innocents, but what was done was done; she had to think positively.
"Vengeful Indian spirits, remember? They cursed him."
He grinned. "This is gonna be more fun than I thought. Don't suppose they curse the great forehead too?"
"Not last time. He kinda stayed away from the main action. Buffy didn't even get to see him." He glared at her. "What?"
"You said I'd get to see the Slayer rip Angelus a new one. Can't do that if she doesn't know he's here."
"That was last time. This time she has insider information. It's gonna happen." She was going to make it happen. She just had to keep him from sneaking away before Buffy figured out that he was around.
"Soddin' notes," he muttered and fell silent once more.
They crouched in the bushes, watching as Xander crashed on the couch and Anya waved her arms about at an unhappy slayer. Occasionally Spike chuckled and Dawn remembered that he could hear everything that was going on. Darn vampire hearing. She was having to make due with reading peoples' lips when they were in view, which wasn't often.
When Buffy pulled a familiar piece of notebook paper from her pocket the volume raised enough that Dawn could hear them even if she couldn't distinguish any of their words, and Spike perked up beside her.
"Well," she demanded quietly, "do they believe me?"
"They're not sure they can trust it. But Buffy's sayin' that the rest came true, and that the dagger hasn't hurt her yet. Whelp still thinks they should warn the Dean anyway, but the Watcher's already made a call. They're sittin' tight."
She wondered if he even realized he'd just referred to her sister by name instead of by the familiar title.
She only relaxed when Xander sank back onto the couch and Buffy returned to her dinner preparations.
Angel arrived moments before an Indian war party materialized out of thin air. Even Spike jumped. Dawn wasn't sure why she'd expected spirits to use conventional means of transportation, but when the apartment was suddenly full of flying arrows she realized she should have expected it. She pushed Spike further into the bushes. He didn't protest, eyes darting from the window to his grandsire, trying to take in all the action at once.
Fortunately the scuffle was brief. Dawn heard Giles shout, "Knife!" sharply, and then Buffy was plunging the dagger into Hus's heart and Angel hit the ground with a heavy whump of air as the spirit he was wrestling with vanished. Spike looked positively giddy; though when he realized the action was over he pouted.
"All those arrows and not a single drop of blood."
Dawn rolled her eyes, grateful he'd kept it too quiet for Angel to hear from his spot on the ground not three yards away.
"Just watch," she whispered. She hoped they would realize what the end of her note was about. Willow and Giles at least should have figured it out, seeing as Angel had shown himself to them both.
Through the window they could see Buffy shaking the note at Giles, the look on her face almost triumphant.
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Spike could hear the goings on inside with crystal clarity – thank the Powers for vamp hearing. Slayer was crowing about the note being right as though she'd had something to do with it. Which was fair enough from what he understood of the Bit's creation, except that the slayer didn't know that.
"Hey, Giles!" She shook the crumpled piece of notebook paper in his face. "The note was totally right. I stuck the knife in and poof, no more angry Indian guys!"
"I feel lousy," the red witch moaned. "It's just . . . Did you see me? Two seconds of conflict with an indigenous person and I turned into General Custer."
Buffy ignored her friend, flattening out the paper and peering down at it. "Look, it's even got the thing about the syphilis."
Her watcher took the note from her, studying it. "Yes, in hindsight I do believe it's all here."
"Lemme see." Xander, who was (sadly) already looking very much recovered, peered over the man's shoulder and then up at his best friend. "Oh, yeah. It's all there. Huh, I don't remember this last part though. You're smart Wills, what do you think?"
Willow took the note. "What last— oh, hey, Giles, you don't think maybe this is talking about Ange—"
Too late Willow noticed the frantic cutting motions Giles was making behind Buffy's back.
"Ange? What's an Ange?" Xander's eyes narrowed in suspicion as he snatched the note back despite Willow's attempt to hold onto it. He read it silently. "Angel?" he asked. "This is talking about Angel? He's here." He looked up at his best friend accusingly. "And you knew!" His turned his glare to Giles who was rubbing his temples wearily. "You both knew. And you didn't tell me!"
Willow shrugged apologetically and Giles merely shook his head.
"They didn't tell me either, Xander." Buffy did not sound happy. And too bloody right. Stupid git. If he was gonna leave the girl to live her own life he should bloody well do it. Slayer could handle herself just fine without his self-righteous arse butting in where it wasn't needed. Not that Angelus would ever see it that way.
And speaking of, where was his git of a grandsire? If Spike could hear the goings on inside, surely he could as well. Glancing over he was surprised to see his relative struggling, and failing, to get to his feet. Dawn snickered beside him and he looked down at her to see a tube of contact cement in her hand. She flashed it at him deliberately before sticking it into her pocket.
Clever girl. Wouldn't hold anyone for long, let alone a vampire, but it would be long enough for the Slayer to lay hands on him. Though he didn't want to know how she'd managed to lay it out without being noticed.
The next moment the door of the flat slammed open and Buffy was charging through it, ignoring the protests of her friends and Watcher. Angel's foot chose that moment to come free, knocking him back on his arse, but it was too late to make a run for it.
Bloody Valkyrie the girl was. She scowled down at her former paramour, hands propped jauntily on her slim little hips.
"When were you going to tell me you were here? Were you going to tell me you were here? And more importantly why are you here? Because I could have sworn you left me. And leaving implies that you're, you know, gone."
The git had the sense to look halfway ashamed, though Spike knew him well enough to know he would do it all again anyway. And again. And again. Was his nature to be a controlling, manipulative bastard. Soul hadn't changed that.
"A friend of mine had a vision."
If anything this seemed to irritate Buffy further. "And you couldn't pick up the phone?" Angel opened his mouth, but Buffy steamrolled right on. "No, I get it. You had to come charging in to save the day because I'm weak and helpless and clueless. I mean, it's not like I'm the Slayer and fighting supernatural baddies is my sacred calling or anything."
She glared down at the vampire and he kept his eyes averted. In the background Spike could hear her mates whispering. The red head asserting that she'd known this was a bad idea and the whelp agreeing with Buffy's telephone sentiment. Buffy dropped her arms, some of her anger vanishing. The disappointment that took its place was almost as good, to Spike's way of thinking. Give the bloody soul something more to brood on.
"You wanna know the worst part, Angel? You didn't even respect me enough to tell me you were in town. You snuck around behind my back, planning with everybody but me to do my job without me."
Finally, Angel struggled to his feet. "It wasn't like that. I didn't want you to get hurt."
She spread her arms demonstratively. "Mission accomplished. I won and I didn't need your help to do it," she snapped.
He ducked to try to meet her gaze, which, Spike expected, had been his purpose in rising. Wanted to intimidate the girl, remind her of "her place". As though she was some silly chit he could lord it over rather than the best slayer what ever walked the earth.
"I meant I didn't want you to have to deal with seeing me again. I didn't want to hurt you."
She refused to meet his gaze, staring instead over his shoulder. "Well, you did." Her eyes snapped back to his with renewed fury. "And this hurts a helluva lot worse than you talking about it with me would have. So thanks for that." Without giving him a chance for further defense she whirled and strode inside. Her mates and her watcher moved aside awkwardly as she cast them a disapproving glance. Angel met the watcher's gaze and the old man shook his head before turning to follow his slayer inside. Once the slayer's gang was all inside and the door safely shut behind Angel's shoulders slumped and he trudged away.
Spike barely managed to contain his glee until his grandsire was out of vampiric ear shot. And then he laughed, a low, deep chuckle that wouldn't alert those inside to his presence.
God, that was priceless. Wanker. Teach him to treat the slayer like a child.
Beside him the Bit looked torn between sympathy for her sister and amusement. Her lips twitched helplessly.
"Oh, Bit, that was worth it, seein' him like that. Can't remember the last time anyone gave the great Angelus such a dressin' down. Treat me to more shows like that an' I jus' might behave myself more often."
She punched his arm. "It wasn't that funny. I mean, okay, the part where he fell on his butt, that was pretty funny. And Buffy so needed to yell at him. She never does that, even though he deserves it." She crossed her arms prettily. "Jerk."
"Bastard," Spike countered.
Dawn shrugged. "That too."
"Maybe even literally," Spike joked. "He is Irish."
"That's racist."
"Back to that are we? Not much for being PC, pet."
"Guess not." She pushed to her feet. "Well, show's over, so I guess we should go."
Spike nodded, but didn't follow her. He could hear them inside, chatting the day out, and he strained to catch it all. Whelp was assuring them all he was feeling better already. Then the lot of them apologized to Buffy. And then someone asked for the salt and it was as though all was forgotten.
That wasn't the part that held his attention though. No. It was the sudden vision he had of the slayer and her crew around the watcher's table. Seating arrangement seemed likely enough, only in his mental picture there was an extra guest at the table: him. He was tied to a chair and begging for blood, or at least a bit of the gravy. In the vision he heard himself bemoaning the fact that there'd been an entire siege and not a single one of them had the decency to bleed a bit. The comment was eerily similar to his own earlier remark. It unsettled him.
"Spike, you coming?" Dawn was looking at him expectantly.
"Uh, yeah. Sorry. Listening," he offered by way of excuse, which was half true.
The girl rolled her eyes. "You big bad eavesdropper you. C'mon, I want dessert."
"Dessert? What was that half a pie you ate before coming here?"
"Pumpkin pie is part of Thanksgiving dinner. Now I want chocolate. I think I remember how to make a brownie in a glass in the microwave."
"Oi." Spike let the banter that was fast becoming familiar between them ease away his discomfort from moments before.
Always did have an overactive imagination. Could picture it having gone that way in the Bit's original timeline. Helpless, starving, with no one to turn to. Slayer was a warrior, she had a warrior's honor. He could see himself coming to her. White hat, yeah? She'd have fed him or dusted him and either would have been better than slowly starving on his own. Yeah, might have gone down that way. Must have, if the future the Bit tried so hard to skirt around was true. Wasn't stupid, figured he must have thrown in with the Slayer's lot at some point if he and her kid sis were so close. Would explain all those other bits and bobs she tried not to say. The ways he had changed in her future.
He threw one last glance back toward the Watcher's flat. Brain was just trying to piece it all together, make sense of it all.
Dawn was waiting for him at a shadowed manhole and he quickly moved the cover aside and dropped down inside. He caught her as she dropped in after him. For just a moment her neck was at his lips and he could feel the hot rush of blood beneath the delicate skin. His fangs ached, but it never occurred to him to take the bite. And it wasn't just about the future anymore, it was about the girl. Couldn't hurt her. Not this girl who accepted him for everything he was and had been, even as she manipulated and cajoled him into compromise and change.
He scowled into the darkness. Some Big Bad he was now. How Dru would laugh if she could see him: trotting after the Slayer's one-day, once-upon-a-time, kid sister, demon firmly leashed and muzzled.
Maybe his brain should worry less about how he had changed in that other timeline and more about how he was changing in this one.
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A/N:
It's only 11:00pm where I am - so technically I kept my promise to update Saturday Also, if I had planned this better I would have started releasing this story earlier in 2014 so this chapter coincided with Thanksgiving. Alas, I did not. Oh well.
For those who are concerned, please note there is no Spike/Other warning on this story. Dawn and he are keeping it strictly sibling-esque, I promise. Aside from the occassionally leer. But, hey, she's 18 and he's a vampire. Leering happens.
Thanks for reading. Drop a review if you've got a moment. They make my day.
reenas-as
