Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from BtVS.
A/N: I'm sorry it took me so long to get this out to you guys. The only thing I can say in my defense is that these next two chapters were really hard for me to write. Especially this one. I really had to dig deep and sac up. The consolation is that I consider this to be the worst chapter in the entire story. Yeah, there's still gonna be some angst, but nothing like this. That being said, warnings for extreme violence, implied M/M rape and really inappropriate touching of a minor.
Some of Spike's thoughts are from the shooting script from the episode "Never Leave Me" that never quite made the cut to film. It was found at by my totally awesome beta ObscureBookWyrm who doesn't get nearly enough credit for all the hard work she does.
Remember When
Chapter Fourteen
Something cold and wet dripped onto her cheek, pinging her into brief, hazy consciousness. Dawn rolled onto her side, her sleepy mind trying to decipher why she heard the sharp rustle of nylon as she moved.
"I don't know. My sister wouldn't like it."
"Your sister?" Kim looked at her like she was insane. No self-respecting twelve year old cared what their elder sister thought. "Gees, Dawn. It's just the back yard. You'd think I was askin' to camp in the back woods somewhere."
Buffy hadn't wanted Dawn to spend the night at Kim's, but Dawn had totally appealed to their mom, knowing the elder Summers had no idea why Buffy was spiraling smack into the center of freaksville over Dawn leaving the house. Angel was lurking at the edges of their lives, seeking for a way in to devour them in their beds, and now Spike was all walking and evil again. Buffy's tyrannical, gung-ho 'protect my baby sister' attitude was suffocating, and Dawn just had to get out of the house. There was just no living with Buffy when she was like this. It would do them both some good to be separated for a while. At least their mother thought so when she gave Dawn permission to go to the sleep over.
Something large and undeterminable loomed at the fringes of her subconscious, preventing her from drifting fully back into sleep. Another cold drip tickled her ear. "Great, the tent is leaking," she muttered, pulling the sleeping bag tightly around her shoulders.
She cracked one eye, seeing a black lump lying next to her in the darkness. Kim could sleep through WWIII and a Los Angeles earthquake that breached 9.6, but if someone even whispered the name Leonardo DiCaprio the girl would leap to her feet with wide-eyed eagerness. The girl had issues. Dawn suspected pop rocks were the culprits. There was something suspicious about a candy marketed to children that could make your belly explode. At least, that's what Cindy Cadwell said. Her mom was a podiatrist, so she should know. Dawn sighed deeply and rolled over onto her back.
"Wakey, wakey," a smug, gravely voice greeted.
Glowing, disembodied orbs burned in the darkness inches from her face. Another cold drip slid off her chin and with waxing horror, Dawn realized that it was saliva from the monster's fangs.
Dawn screamed loud enough to make every dog on the block start to howl. Then she did exactly what Buffy had taught her to do. She thrust her thumbs towards the sulfuric eyes, jamming them in deep despite the squick factor. They squished beneath her nails, and Dawn choked back the urge to gag. The monster recoiled, nearly falling out of the tent with a roar. She flipped onto her hands and knees, trying to crawl towards Kim so they could run, but a weight hit her from behind, and she landed with a huff on the small, black lump. Her hand slipped in a pool of something warm and wet and a metallic tang flooded her nostrils.
A clawed hand curled around her knee and yanked her backwards with enough force to wrench her joint. Dawn screamed in pain, grasping frantically at Kim's slippery rayon sleeping bag as she was dragged backwards. Dawn's voice caught at the edge of a ragged scream as Kim's lifeless body was revealed by the fall of the material. Her pretty face was pale and bloodless, her sightless eyes staring accusingly at Dawn. A harried glance at the ragged hole where Kim's voice box used to be told Dawn why she hadn't heard the other girl scream. Dawn's stomach roiled violently. The creature wrapped its claws in her long brown hair, yanking her off her hands and twisting her about so they were chest to chest. Vomit rushed up her esophagus and out her throat.
"Fuck! That's disgusting!" The creature dropped her like she had just spewed holy water instead of regurgitated lasagna. The acrid stink of it filled the tent, drowning out the scents of metallic blood and salty fear.
Dawn didn't wait for her stomach to settle. She weaved her thin, lithe body around the creature blocking the exit and dove between the fabric panels. Once outside she tried to scurry to her feet, but her wrenched knee exploded with agony that made her toes curl, and she buckled with a scratchy whimper. Knowing she was down, but not dead, Dawn dug deep into her reserve of Summers' resolve and dragged herself across the short, wet grass towards the sliding glass door.
Light suddenly flooded the backyard and Kim's mother appeared on the other side the glass. With her long, white cotton nightgown and her frizzy, graying blonde hair backlit by lamplight, she looked like a tattered, confused angel who hadn't quite figured out all the ins and outs of mortal life. She frowned, crow's feet streaking weary lines towards her temples as she narrowed her eyes to see into the darkness. She reached for the handle, and Dawn screamed in warning, knowing if the woman took one step outside she would be just as dead as her daughter.
At the sound of the little girl's terror the woman frantically thrust the door open, her pinched mouth already forming her daughter's name.
"Be in me."
The ethereally beautiful, dark-haired woman appeared magically out of the darkness. Her black lace gown melted into shadows at her ankles, and her white skin reflected the pale moonlight. She stood between Dawn and Mrs. Patterson, swaying like a cobra rising from a charmer's reed basket. Dawn watched, transfixed, as Kim's mother swayed in sync with the mysterious woman, her eyes flat and expressionless.
"Invite us in for a spot of tea and biscuits, Mummy," the dark-haired woman cajoled.
"No." Dawn's gasp turned into a scream as she was grabbed from behind. She struggled desperately, but her strength was no match for her captor's. Slowly she was twisted around until she was looking into the burning yellow gaze of Angelus. Blood pooled at the corners of his eyes and Dawn irreverently thought of those articles that appeared in The Weekly World News about angel statues crying blood. He leered down at her, flicking his tongue along his fangs, and she remembered there was nothing angelic about the monster in front of her.
"Look what I caught," he purred. His large hand swept the sweaty tendrils of her long hair away from her cheek, his blunt fingers resting threateningly around her narrow neck. "A sweet taste of sugar for my sweet tooth."
He smiled at her and Dawn felt her bladder loosen. "No, please. Let me go!" she howled as he twined his claws through her hair.
"Now, c'mon, Dawnie. Don't be like that. I just want to spend a little time with you. After all, I'm practically your big brother. We're going to have so much fun," he told her gleefully.
As he dragged her into the house, all she could think was that she should have listened to her sister.
Dawn fought the insistent tug of consciousness. Along the fractured edges of awareness she understood that the land of the waking was of the bad. Her head throbbed and her knee ached. Her mouth was dry and her lips felt thick. The insides of her wrists stung, and when she tried to shrug the balls of her shoulders ground painfully in the joints. Behind the litany of ailments that she kept at the forefront of her mind was the insidious certainty that she was soon going to remember why she preferred to stay unconscious rather than make the leap into awareness.
She could feel her long hair hanging around her face, tickling her nose and teasing its way into her mouth. She tried to nuzzle her face against her shoulder to rub away the sneeze building in her nose, but pain exploded at the base of her skull, creeping over her scalp and nesting, burning hot, behind her eyes.
She gasped, her eyes blinking rapidly as she tried to clear the tears. The tears weren't from pain, but from flooding memories. The blood. The screams. Angelus had made her watch it all. She'd tried to close her eyes, but every time she did he'd pry her eyelids up with his sharp nails, holding her as the vampiress took her sweet time torturing Kim's parents and two younger brothers to death.
It was all her fault. She should have listened to Buffy and stayed home. Her selfish desire to escape her sister had killed her friends. Not just killed, but tortured. Horribly. Kim was probably the luckiest one of the bunch. Her death had been quick and relatively soundless, before Dawn awoke.
Dawn bit her swollen lips to keep her sobs locked in her throat. She knew without looking that she wasn't safe. She was sagging against the wall, all her weight resting on her wrists. The sharp pain was from manacle cuffs digging into her flesh. She could feel a thin stream of blood running down the underside of one arm and dripping off the odd angle of her elbow to clot in her nightshirt. She steadied her feet beneath her to relieve some of the strain on her wrists and shoulders. She didn't want to lift her head for fear of what she would see. For fear that Angelus or Dru was standing right in front of her, mockingly waiting for her to acknowledge them so the games could begin. And Dawn had no doubt there would be games. Bad, bad games.
Groaning, she tossed her head back, trying to sweep her hair away from her face. Her maneuver failed, and most of it still hung around her face, but at least her vision wasn't obscured. The first thing she saw was a roaring fire in the biggest fireplace she had ever seen. It was a big, soot covered cave that was easily six feet tall and five people across, if they stood shoulder to shoulder. The flames were so hot that Dawn thought an entire tree must've been feeding them. The heat spread along her whole body, prickling sweat along the nape of her neck and in her armpits. She drew her gaze away from the hypnotizing dance of the flames and swept the rest of the room.
"Spike!" He was sitting in a wheelchair to her left, but at her word he leapt to his feet, slapping his hand over her mouth. Indignation raged in her little girl gut and she instantly clamped her teeth down on the fleshiest part of his palm. His jaw tightened, and a small muscle fluttered along the hard edge of his cheek.
"Let go," he commanded coldly. She narrowed her eyes over the edge of his palm and bit down harder. He leaned into her, and she could smell alcohol and cigarettes. He smelled worse than usual. Like the inside of a skeezy dive bar. Not that she had ever been in one, but she watched TV and she had a very active imagination.
"Don't think I won't snap your neck, little girl. I've killed younger. There's nothin' special about you," he professed harshly. She tried to tell herself that it was his cold breath on her ear that made her shiver, but it wasn't. His tone was distant and hard, and completely unlike how he had ever spoken to her before. Fear was sharp in her gut. Angelus terrified her. He made her want to run screaming into the night. But this side of Spike made her want to curl up into a ball and sob until her insides were flushed out and there was nothing left but dust. Her friend was gone and there was only a monster left. Hot tears burned tracks down her cheeks to the edge of his palm. His fingers tightened along the hollow of her jaw, only loosening when she unclenched her teeth. She tasted a hint of blood on her lips.
He pulled back, some of his menace melting away. "Good. Now, I'm goin' to remove my hand, but you'd better not so much as squeak, little mouse."
He cast a nervous glance towards an open archway on the far side of the room. Dawn followed his gaze, but all she could see were clusters of shadows beyond the portal. She nodded slowly, afraid of what waited for her in the other room.
He slowly removed his hand, letting it hover a few inches above her lips to smother her screams if she decided to be stupid. She kept her lips pressed firmly together. She couldn't look him in the eye, so she focused on his hand. Peeking from beneath the sleeve of his red silk shirt was a hint of a woven black band. She swallowed hard, and told herself it didn't mean anything.
"Don't say a word about me being able to walk," he ordered severely.
Her eyes flashed to his. She had that mutinous feeling in her chest that she got right before she launched into a doozy of an argument with Buffy, usually over something stupid and girly, like who had first rights to the bathroom in the mornings.
"Why shouldn't I?" she hissed.
"'Cause you'll get me dead if you do."
Her heart double tapped with fear for him, but her anger was still roiling in her gut. "Why should I care? You aren't helping me none," she spat.
His fury seemed to expand him to twice his size. "I've already helped you once," he growled. His eyes flashed yellow. Normally, his demon didn't scare her. Spike's demon was fascinating to her. But all she saw were Angelus' sulfuric eyes glowing above her in the darkness. She recoiled violently, rattling her chains. Spike leapt forward, his hands stilling the swaying irons. His demon melted away, but her latent fear still twined in her gut. When he looked at her his blue eyes were shadowed with something bleak and indefinable. It made her forlorn. He must have seen her hopelessness, because his full lips compressed into a straight, pained line.
"I told that bottle blonde sis of yours to keep you inside. I did everythin' I could to keep you safe." His jewel bright eyes took on a suspicious sheen, but before she could suss out what it meant he was squeezing them shut and angling his head away from her. "It's not my fault you stupid bints refuse to listen to sound advice. You're done for now and there's sod all I can do about it."
She shuddered against him, her whole body convulsing with the terror his words wrought. The tears she'd fought so hard to keep inside started flowing copiously. He was close enough for her to lay her face in the hollow of his shoulder. She was surprised but thankful when he didn't move away to protect his precious leather jacket from her snot and tears. She pressed closer, inhaling the scent of Spike behind the odors left behind from the binger he'd recently been on. The sensation of his hand smoothing the tangles of her hair at the back of her head only made her cry harder.
"Spike. I'm scared. I wanna go home. Please. Please," she begged brokenly.
"Too late for that now, Snack Size. Nothin' I can do." He paused. Then, in a whisper that barely reached her ears, "'Less you want me to snap your neck now?"
She jerked away, and his hands fell to his sides. Betrayal expanded through her chest, but when she looked at Spike all she saw was steadfast sadness.
"I-I don't want to die."
Her clear, sweet innocence rang painfully in his ears. He stared at her long and hard, knowing this would be the last time he looked at her. Soon she would be ruined and he couldn't bear the thought of it. He wanted to remember her like this. A sweet, untouched child who effervesced with life. Who trusted a stranger to care for her and her sister in their time of need. Who was brave enough to face down a warehouse full of demons to help a friend. If he were smart he would let this be a lesson to him to never befriend a human again. They were destined to die and there was nothing to be done for it.
"Trust me. You don't want to live," he muttered lowly, casting a dirty glare at the archway. Angelus knew how to hurt her just enough so she would stay alive for days—make her his plaything—make sure she'd still be able to cry, because it wasn't fun if they didn't cry. Spike lowered himself into his chair, still refusing to look at her, knowing the little girl who had befriended him was already gone.
"Can I trust you not to say anything about me walkin'?" From the corner of his eye he could see her brown hair whip around her pale face as she shook her head violently.
"No," she hissed out. "I'll tell. I'll tell them everything if you don't get me out of here," she demanded hysterically, yanking on her chains.
He was out of his chair in a heartbeat, his palm across her mouth to keep her silent. He rocked her back until her skull cracked on the hard bricks behind her. Her watery eyes widened as he glared angrily down at her.
"And how do you expect me to do that?" He removed his hand from her mouth to yank forcibly on her chains. "Can't break your irons. Don't have the key. Have no way of gettin' you out. And even if I did, we wouldn't get very far before they came screamin' after us. So tell me. How am I supposed to save you, little girl?"
She shook her head, the tips of her hair whipping against his face. "I don't know, Spike. I'm just a kid. Please-."
"Please, what?" he cut her off. "Please, nothin', that's what. I can't help you. All you'll be doin' is killin' me along with you if you tell. But if that's a stain you want on your lily-white soul 'fore you go, then do it. Tell 'em I can walk and watch them kill me slow. Get your petty revenge if it'll make you feel better. What did you call me? A monster? Well, then I deserve everythin' they'll do to me, don't I?" Christ, no truer words were spoken. He deserved everything they'd do to him. Not just for his past crimes, but for the sin of not protecting his one and only friend.
She was sobbing violently now and there was nothing he could do to muffle the sound. He pushed her away from him, and she rocked into the wall. He flung himself into his chair as Angelus and Dru roused themselves in the other room. They had fucked themselves into insensibility while they waited for their newest prize to awaken, and now that she was conscious it was time for them to play.
Angelus stalked into the room, Drusilla gliding sinuously behind him. Spike gazed longingly at his black goddess, but she didn't spare him a glance. Her dark eyes were riveted on the young girl who was strung up for their pleasure. The look of rapacious hunger on her pointed features made something dark and sick twist in his gut. There had been a time when that look on her face had made his cock stand up on point, knowing that she was about to wreak beautiful havoc that would result in rivers of blood streaming around them as they fucked. And God, did he still want that. He still wanted her writhing in blood under him as they worshipped at the altar of hedonism. He wanted to take deep draws of blood from their victims and pass it to her in kiss like lovers pass champagne. He wanted to hold a beating heart in his hand as she took a bite, their eyes locked as she fed. He wanted all the romance they'd shared before Angelus had returned to their lives and tainted her. Before Snack Size had corrupted his thoughts about the value of true friendship and the equality of love.
He was so deep in his musings he didn't realize that Angelus was standing in front of Dawn until he heard the rending of fabric and her panicked whimper. Unwillingly, he glanced in their direction, but quickly averted his eyes once he saw that Angelus had ripped away Dawn's nightshirt, leaving her bare from the waist up.
"Just what I thought. Sweet little crabapples." Angelus cupped her young breast, squeezing it painfully.
"Stop! Get off me, you perv. You're gross." She bucked in her chains, uselessly trying to escape him.
He chortled happily as his hand glided over her ribs to the waistband of her pajama pants. "Now, is that anyway to talk to your soon-to-be daddy?"
He yanked her pants and her grown-up, bikini cut cotton panties down her legs, ripping them off her feet. She was completely naked and crying loudly.
"We'll just have to take the time to teach you manners, won't we, Dru?"
Drusilla twined around Angelus, her black ice eyes glittering in the firelight. She reached her pale arm over Angelus' shoulder and caressed Dawn's tear-soaked cheek with her long, red fingernails. "The pixie cries and the stars cease to dance. If summers' light withers beneath winter's moon my prince will love me again, and the pixie and the sunshine will hate him for it."
"Dru, my princess. I love you now and forever. I never stopped. You don't need to do this. Come away now and I'll make you happy again," Spike told her mournfully. How could she claim that he didn't love her? She was the one who'd abandoned him. She was the one who'd left him to starve while wrapping her pretty red mouth around her sire's cock.
"Liar," she hissed, never once glancing in his direction. She sliced her fingernails across Dawn's cheek with evil vindictiveness, unsatisfied with the girl's whimpers of pain. "Princess is all alone. The pixie and sunshine usurp her throne. Daddy will dally the night away with them, while my prince pines over what he could not save."
She lunged at Dawn, her claws poised to slash the young girl's throat, to rid herself of the competition for her men's affections, but Angelus was faster. He shrugged the frail woman away, his elbow striking her hard in the breastbone. Spike tried to dredge up sympathy for his dark dove, but it tasted bitter in his mouth.
"Don't test me, Dru," Angelus growled at his childe, who huddled on the floor, lost in her own mind. "I'll have my girls. One on my cock, the other in my mouth, and if you try to ruin my fun I'll punish you until that rotten brain of yours finally shorts out permanently." He ignored the wailing woman on the ground and turned back to his prize. He trailed his claws over her barely rounded hip, salivating at the sight of her hairless mons. "My beautiful little girl. I can't wait to make you scream and bleed."
Dawn crumpled as much as her manacles would allow, trying to hide behind the long fall her hair. "Please, stop. Don't do this."
"I wish your sister were here to see this. Her tears would make it all the sweeter." His claws caressed her inner thigh and her entire body shuddered.
Spike couldn't watch. He fixed his gaze and dredged up his every grotesquely evil deed in the last century-every thrillingly wicked act, every obscene degradation he'd committed against another that gave him pleasure. Anything and everything he could to remind himself that he was evil. Dawn was nothing but a pathetic human girl. She was food, nothing more. Her terror and tears were seasoning. Her screams were-going to make him sick…
"Spike!" she wailed. She tried to not call out to him, knowing it would only endanger him, but she couldn't stop herself. She was so scared, her stomach twisting in sick cramps, and all she wanted was for him to leap up from his chair, shatter her chains, and whisk her away to her sister.
Angelus chuckled darkly. "Poor child. Do you have a little teen dream crush on a vampire? Sister like sister, huh? How sweet is that?"
Spike concentrated on the dancing flames in the grandiose hearth. Dru had already inserted the pokers into the embers for the games to come. He knew that if he ignored Dawn's pleas he would escape the brunt of Angelus' attentions. The sick bastard took delight in crushing the psyches of his victims before he ever touched their bodies. If Spike acknowledged Dawn in any way, Angelus' attentions would swing ruthlessly to him. The monster would delight in degrading and torturing him in front of Dawn's innocent eyes for hours, using her affection as a way to torment her.
Now that she had singled him out, he would be subject to a small taste of Angelus' sadism. It was unavoidable. Spike shrugged off his duster to save it from damage as Angelus dragged him from his chair, hefting him by the neck so Spike's legs dangled uselessly above the floor. It took all of Spike's meager self-control to remain limp in his enemy's grasp. His entire body quivered with the need to slam his fist into his grandsire's leering face, but if he remained unresponsive, Angelus would quickly lose interest and Spike could go back to trying to defy undead biology by vomiting.
Angelus flashed his fangs in a sadistic smile as he stared up into Spike's face. Spike kept his expression neutral, allowing only his natural disgust for his grandsire to filter through. "You think he can help you, Dawnie? He doesn't give a shit about you. He's not worth your tears. He's a pathetic cripple."
He threw Spike to the ground, his hands going to his belt buckle. "He makes a great tool though. Let me show you what's in store for you and your sister."
This was it. He could take his medicine and then be kicked to the side. Dawn would finally learn that he wasn't worth even an ounce of her affection and he could abandon her to her fate.
Or. He could dig down deep to find a sliver of humanity and keep Angelus' attention until the sick bastard exhausted himself, giving the Slayer a chance to rescue her sister. That would be Angelus' preferred game. He'd rather play with Spike in front of Dawn in an attempt at breaking her than go in for the kill too quickly. For the first time since Angelus touched Dawn, Spike glanced at the little girl. Her naked body was obscene to him. She was scrawny, hairless, and far too young. Her apple cheeks were flushed deep red and her eyes swollen from crying. Their gazes met, and Spike felt a flood of emotion he hadn't experienced since before his turning. The intensity of it terrified him. Because while vampires were capable of emotion, what he felt right now for Dawn was far sharper than the dull parody of feeling he had lived with for the last hundred years. She was his to care for from the moment she'd put her trust in his hands Halloween night.
There was the dull razor sound of a zipper, and the rustle of denim being handled roughly. Dawn's expression crumpled and he could see real regret etched on her face. 'I'm sorry,' she mouthed to him, before she squeezed her eyes shut.
"Keep your eyes closed, Dawn," Spike ordered hoarsely. She squeezed her eyes tighter, tendrils of hair sticking to her tear-dampened face as she nodded, incapable of speech. "Don't open them, no matter what."
Angelus glanced at Dru, knowing he couldn't trust her to keep the little girl's eyes pried open. The vampiress would more than likely rip the child's throat out. Instead, Angelus chuckled, deciding to use Spike's command to his advantage. He'd just have to be more vocal than usual.
"Oh, yes, Dawnie. Keep your eyes shut. Imagination is a magical thing."
The wet, sucking sounds and grunts of sadistic pleasure, intermingled with the painful groans and thudding of flesh on flesh, seemed to go on for hours. Whenever it seemed to lull, or whenever Angelus turned his spiteful attention to her, Spike would say things. Awful, dirty, nasty things that she could never unhear. And Angelus' attention would unfailingly swing back towards the irreverent vampire. And the sounds would return. Worse than before. More agonizing, more gut wrenching. Terrible sounds that Dawn never wanted to connect with images-so she kept her eyes shut tight, despite the acidic burn of her tears.