TITLE:
Darkest Before Dawn #5
AUTHOR:
Nmissi
PART: 5/?
DISCLAIMER: I own Nothing and No one. Especially not Spike. If I did,
what makes you think I'd share him with you?
DISTRIBUTION: Anybody, just credit me and let me know where it's
going.
Feedback: Please. Nmissi@aol.com
SUMMARY: The way the world would work if I wrote the Buffyverse.
His back ached, and a torn ligament
in his shoulder reminded him why it was he'd never particularly cared for that
type of Demon. One of their number had seized him between its jaws during the
scuffle, and viciously shaken him like a terrier with a chew toy. He'd live,
sure- but the indignity of being mauled by an oversized Dog would hurt for
months to come. There were witnesses. And Cordy in particular could never resist
the opportunity to needle him. The fact that his favorite shirt was now soaked
in Dog-drool was just bonus.
As Angel came into the hotel, he
caught the scent of an unfamiliar human; female, and young. She was somewhere
in the lobby.
She stood up from a chair where
she'd been waiting for him. He looked her over- Long brown hair, dark eyes,
good skin. About fifteen, he'd say.
"Angel," she said. Then the universe
tilted slightly as reality made an adjustment.
"Dawn! What are you doing here?" he
replied.
"Right then. If its nothing to you,
I'll be on my merry way…"
Spike tried to pull free of the arm
that clamped him against the side of the Bronze. His world was swimming, to some extent, courtesy of the fine folks at
the Miller Brewing Company. Two fistfights and a minor scuffle, and he hadn't
even knocked his buzz off. But he could feel sobriety up ahead, as he took in
the Slayer's exasperated expression.
"No, you WON'T be "On your way". We
need to talk."
Oh, ick. She wanted to talk.
"Why d'you bloody women always want
to talk when I'm pissed?"
"Huh? What are you mad about?"
He shook his head at her,
frustrated.
"Americans. No, I'm not angry,
pet…I'm Pissed- Drunk. Y'know, loaded. Too many beers on an empty stomach, that
sort of thing…"
She rolled her eyes and let go of
his arm. Unfortunately he'd come to depend upon it for verticality, and slipped
sideways toward the asphalt. She
grabbed at him, hauling him back up, trying to maneuver him down the alleyway
towards his parked car.
"Spike, c'mon. Walk it off. We have
to leave for L. A. tonight, you need to sober up so you can drive."
L.A. What was in L.A.? He couldn't
quite remember.
Peaches. Oh, yeah, that was it.
Peaches was in L. A., and Buffy wanted to go there.
His fuzzy brain tried to process
this data, but even in its pickled state he knew there were some things that
weren't adding up right. Buffy hadn't spoken to him since the other night, when
he'd taken her home from the cemetery. He was quite certain of that, since he'd
been avoiding her like the plague. So he was equally certain he hadn't promised
to drive her anywhere. And even if he had, he couldn't imagine any circumstance
under which he'd have promised to take her to Angel.
She was rambling on, now, and he
knew he'd missed some of what she'd been saying. He just hoped it wasn't
anything important that she'd be mad about later.
"- and so when I saw the message
light, I thought it might be Dawn. But it was Dad, and he was asking for Dawn
here at home. When I tried him back, I got no answer, but that could be 'cos
he's out looking for her. I've got Giles staying at the house in case he calls
back, And Anya gave me her cell, so I can touch base occasionally, and-"
Okay. Somewhere in all that rubbish
was something important. He was sure of it. He played it back in his head,
dredging for clues.
Oh. Right. Dawn. Nibblet-
"The nibblet's gone missing?" he
asked, as his mouth caught up with his brain.
"Oblivious, much? Gees, Spike, I've
already told you this a couple times. Get yourself together. We need to swing
by my house and pick up my bag, and-"
She looked him over, taking in the
red shirt, black shirt, jeans motif.
"I guess you don't need a bag."
"Buffy, I can't drive right now. I'm
sloshed, snookered. Moreover, its only a few hours til daybreak and we won't
make it there in time."
Although the idea of a Road Trip
with Buffy had its merits, he was trying to be practical. He'd live through a
car wreck, most likely-but maybe she wouldn't.
He became aware of her hand in his
pocket.
"ooh, Naughty, Slayer. I thought we
didn't have time to play-"
"Can it, Spike."
Her fist came away with his car keys
clutched in it.
"New plan," she said, opening the
back door and sort of shoving him inside.
"Get under the blanket, and try to sleep
it off."
Spike knew fear then, real and
honest fear.
"Oh God. You're going to drive my car."
Dawn sat across the table from him,
sipping the can of Dr. Pepper he'd bought her, looking for all the world like
someone kicked her puppy. He'd been gentle with her, not wanting to press. She
had a reason for coming to him, and he knew she'd tell him when she was ready.
He'd left her alone while he went to shower, and come back to find her still
sitting exactly as he'd left her in the lobby. That was an hour ago, most of
which she'd spent staring at her feet, or looking around the room. She'd said
her dad didn't know she was here, and that was a problem- But he had no way of
contacting Hank right now. Angel didn't even know Mr. Summers' phone number.
The last he'd heard, her father had been in Italy. What was she doing in Los
Angeles?
She finished off the can with an
unladylike burp.
"Sorry," she said sheepishly.
"It's okay," he shrugged.
"So… Are you going to sit there and
stare at me all night, or are you going to tell me what you're doing here?"
She regarded him sharply, then asked
him her question.
"Do you know me?"
His perplexed expression made her to
continue.
"I mean, You know who I am, right?
You remember me?"
He gave her a cockeyed grin.
"No- I am in the habit of buying
soft drinks for strangers who let themselves into my house. How did you get in
here, anyway?"
"I jimmied your doorlock with a
credit card."
If possible, he looked even more
confused now.
"I mean- You know, I didn't hurt it
or anything. Your locks, I mean, not the card"-
He leaned back in his seat.
"I guess I need a more
State-of-the-art home security system. Where'd you learn to pick locks,
anyway?"
"Sp- Somebody taught me. A friend."
"Not a very good friend if they're teaching
you stuff like that, Dawn. I have the distinct impression Buffy wouldn't
approve of you having friends like that."
She colored up, embarrassed, and he
went on.
"Well, you're here now- What's
wrong, kiddo? You look awful. And where's Buffy? Does she know you're here?"
She shook her head.
"No. Buffy sent me home with Dad.
He's not much help, though- too busy with work, and he doesn't know how to
handle any of this anyway. He didn't love her anymore, not like we do. He
doesn't get it, just tells me that I'm not dealing with it right. Like there's
a right way, anyway? He keeps talking
about "Grief counselors" and therapy and stuff-"
Grief counselors?
Angel interrupted.
"Dawn, what are you talking about?
Grief for who? Who died, Dawn?"
His voice was intense, urgent. He
didn't mean to frighten her, but she'd badly frightened him.
"I'm sorry, Angel- I just, I just
figured Buffy woulda told you, or Giles…"
She raised her eyes to his then, and
he saw the despair and anguish hidden in their dark depths.
"My mom passed away a month ago."
The bottom fell out of his stomach.
Joyce? Joyce was dead?
Focus, Angel, Focus. The girl's just
lost her mother. She needs something from you or she wouldn't be here.
"How? What happened, honey?"
"It was complications from the
surgery. An Aneurysm, they called it. Buffy- Buffy came home and found her dead
in the living room."
She was pale now, and shaking as she
made her explanations. Angel got up, and walked around the table to stand
beside her. He brushed his hand over her glossy hair, and she leaned her head
against his hip.
"I'm so sorry, Dawn. I'm so sorry."
He was centuries old, and still he
didn't know how to do this, hadn't worked out a method for dealing with death
and loss. Even when it was a stranger, he had this numb ache, and didn't know
what to say, or do. But this, this was practically Family. He had loved Buffy.
Loved her still, in fact. And he'd been close to them all, her mother, her
sister… Dawn was leaning in to him now, crying silently, and he let his arms go
around her shoulders as he pulled her close. He had to hug her. He didn't know
what else to do with his hands.
"I'm sorry honey. I wish it didn't
hurt so bad."
She just clutched at him around his
waist, and cried.