Spike lounges on the couch watching TV. The evening's drawing in now. Dawn is sitting on the floor working through her homework.
He keeps casting an eye on the window. Even being his most persuasive Buffy still needed to head out. Whatever's been menacing downtown hasn't resurfaced but the absence of it is making her more antsy not less.
He suspects that a part of it is that she needed to catch her breath as well. They'd been wrapped around each other for nearly two days. The thought of it all makes him ache. He understands her need to take things slow, but slow was never really his style. Slow feels like his skins too tight. Suffocating.
He thinks of her breathing heavily underneath him. Wrapped up in his arms as she sleeps. The smell of her skin.
The feel of her lips on his.
Think of something else.
"What time you heading out with Willow, Bit?"
"I think about 7? We're gonna get food first." She smiles up at him from the floor, "you could come too if you want?"
He meets her eyes briefly before turning back to the TV.
"Think she needs some one on one time for now." And I wouldn't be a welcome gate-crasher.
"Oh… because of Tara?"
"Yeah."
"She seemed like she was doing better?"
Spike doesn't answer, but smiles sourly. If Red's doing her best to put on a brave face he's not going to make a start finding cracks in it. But those cracks are starting to look rather big from where he's sitting. Heartache like that can be caustic.
Dawn shuts her homework books. She checks the clock on the dresser. It's only 6pm.
Bored.
She glances at Spike's hand dangling over the side of the couch. His fingers are nearly bare of his usual black nail polish. His nails are short but shockingly white, nearly blue. Dead hands.
"Your nail polish has worn off." She states.
He pulls his hand up and curls his fingers round, picking a couple more grains of paint off them.
"I could redo them for you?"
He raises an eyebrow at her.
"You bored, then?"
"Very."
"Finished your homework?"
"Uh huh."
"Knock yourself out."
She goes to retrieve the nail polish from her room, and Spike stares out the window. It's starting to get really dark now, so that the only thing he can see through the glass is the reflection of the room. He shifts restlessly. Something about the evening is bothering him, like something stuck in the teeth that you can't reach. It's a nagging, irritating feeling.
Dawn returns shaking a small pot of black nail polish and slumps back down next to him. She takes the hand closest to her and the warmth of her hand makes him jump a little. She scratches the last little flecks of polish off with her thumbnail, undoes the top of the nail vanish and starts filling in the blue of his nails with black.
It's much neater than he usually does it, no smudges or bleeding lines.
She finishes one hand and he makes room on the couch so she can sit down and do the other.
Once that hand is painted too she closes the bottle and slips it into her jeans. He stretches his legs over her, and they settle back to watching the TV. The hour drags by in inches.
Willow finally gets in at half past 7. She looks flustered, and when she spots Dawn and Spike on the couch together she prickles noticeably. Though willing to admit the extent of his devotion towards Dawn, it still jars considerably with the rest of the memories she has of him. She continuously has to fight back the urge to drag Dawn out of his reach. Or stake him.
Spike looks up at her from where his head is lolling against the arm of the couch and in a breath stealing moment she thinks those ice blue eyes are reading her like a book. And not a particularly difficult one either.
She pulls her gaze away from his.
"Hey Dawnie, you ready to get going? Burger time? Yay." The forced cheerfulness in her voice makes her wince inwardly.
When did being around people become so complicated?
Dawn untangles herself from underneath Spikes legs. As she gets up he kicks her playfully in the back of the leg. As she passes him she musses his gel free curls, frizzing them.
"Brat." He mumbles, running his fingers through his hair.
Willow purses her lips as Dawn smirks and goes to grab her bag from the kitchen.
"Got a problem, Red?" Spike doesn't glance away from the TV, forcing her to talk to the back of his head.
"No."
"That scowl just part of the new look these days, then is it?"
"What are you even doing here?"
"Looking after the Bit," he turns then, "seem to be the only one bothering to do that currently."
"She doesn't need looking after. Buffy's back. There's no big scary out on the prowl."
"Buffy's not here, you haven't been either I might add, and as happy go lucky as life is going at the moment, pretty sure Joyce would have had a thing or two to say about leaving the smallest Summers all on her lonesome night after night, wouldn'tchathink?"
They face each other down for a beat until Dawn comes back swinging her bag.
"Ready?"
"Yeah Dawnie." She turns away, fixing her face into a happy mask as they leave the house. Closing the door a little harder than maybe was necessary.
"So, uh, the burger was good? You liked it?" Willow feels like she's towing the line between needling and desperate. Everything she says seems to be a pitch too high.
Dawn's either being very generous or very oblivious.
"Are you kidding? It was like a meat party in my mouth- Okay, now I'm just a kid, and even I know that came out wrong." They share a smile, "it was good. But you should have had something."
"I will. I'll eat. I'm ... saving myself for popcorn." She lies. She hasn't really eaten since Tara left. The only thing she's craving is the touch of her. Her smile. God forget lighting up a room, that smile was a full blown lighthouse in the dark.
"The other day, you had fun?" The words start out of her mouth before she can stop them.
What am I doing, don't ask about Tara!
"Uhm, what other day? Give me a Mon or a Fri here, something to work with."
I'm going to ask. I can't stop myself.
It's agony- it's such agony.
"The other day with..Tara?"
"Oh! Uh, yeah. I-I mean, it was, it was nice. Uh, but it wasn't a laugh riot. She's sad and everything."
About me? Please let it be about me.
"Did she say something?"
"Uh, not exactly. I can just tell, by the way she was acting."
"Oh."
I feel like I'm bleeding. I've been ripped in half and I'm walking around but I'm a dead person and oh my God Tara Tara please I need this to stop I need something to make it stop make it stop. Is Rack's close I need some relief from this just a little relief just a little, just a moment just a minute one minute not feeling like this feeling like I'm walking on broken glass every single second I-
"Uh, are you sure you're okay? You look a little-"
Willow realises her party faced has slipped badly.
"No…I'm fine. And Tara's in her new place and everything, she's all settled in?"
She must've heard that hitch, God if I cry now I don't think I'll stop ever again. Just cry until I'm dead.
"Um ... we really didn't get into ... well...Is this right? I-is this the way to the movies?"
"Oh yeah, I'm, uh, I just, uh, took you the long way around. But we're almost there. I, uh, just have to make one quick stop first." Justoneminute, in and out, just something for the pain something to make it stopjustforamoment-
Willow pulls Dawn through what the opening of an alley. Dawn blinks. Out of nowhere a dingy waiting room has materialised around her.
"What is this place? Why is it hidden?"
"I don't know, it's cool, isn't it? Okay, you just hang here for a minute ... and I'll, I'll be back…. Oh uh..You want me to conjure you a magazine or something?"
"Well, what about the movie? It starts at nine."
"We'll make it. I, I'll just be a minute. And it doesn't matter if we miss the trailers."
Dawn bites her lip as Willow disappears behind the only door in the place. This place feels gross, like ingrained cigarette smoke but without the smoke, just the greasy feeling of left over burnt off lungs and breath and hair.
"I like the trailers."