*****************
Two months later
Spike wiped the stove one last time, making sure the appliance was clean. It was no good to have a dirty house, not when Social Services was liable to show up for a Spot Check' at any time. Ever since the custody hearing where he, Giles and Angel's high powered lawyers had arranged for him to have guardianship over Dawn even though he wasn't blood kin, he'd been taking flak from concerned' social workers. They'd already dropped by' twice. Dropped by. He'd wished he could've dropped them- right off a building. But instead he had to play nice and try to convince them that a handsome young bachelor such as himself' was perfectly capable of taking care of a fourteen natch almost fifteen year old girl. So far he was pretty sure he'd impressed them. So far he'd impressed everyone. Giles was amazed at how well he kept house, said he never realized how domestic Spike could be. Domestic?! DOMESTIC?! Oh how the mighty had fallen. He'd gone from The Big Bad to Domestic. It made him want to heave.
But really, what did they expect? Spike had decades of caregiving experience. He'd taken care of Drucilla for over a century; nursed her after Prague, and if anyone thought that taking care of an insane vampire was easy, well Compared to Dru, Dawn was a walk in the park. At least a human teenage female was predictable. Hell, half the time he knew what was going on in her head before she did. And he was a good parental figure, firm when he needed to be but flexible enough to give her support and guidance. She respected him and adored him, and he adored her. He also protected her. Viciously. When he was defending Dawn, nothing got in his way. Not even The Chip.
It wasn't long before he discovered that he could and would endure any pain to protect his charge. He found that his resolve and will were enough to overcome the pain caused by The Chip- long enough for him to do what needed to be done. He paid for it afterwards with blinding headaches that knocked him flat on his bum for hours, but they only came after Dawn was safe. The endurance translated somewhat to his own defense. He found that when threatened by a human, he was able to moderately defend himself. He couldn't do any offensive maneuvers, but he could punch and shove when attacked- enough to get away. It seemed that protecting Dawn also meant staying alive.
His endurance was the one thing that had saved his reputation with Dawn's friends. A dim-witted jock had been stupid enough to accost Dawn at the Bronze one evening when Spike was with her. After repeated attempts to convince the young man that Dawn was not interested and he needed to get lost, Spike finally lost his temper and tossed the kid clear over a pool table. He then proceeded to do the same with any of the jock's friends who tried to visit retribution on him. The resulting repercussions had earned him the reputation of Dawn Summers' Big Bad Big Brother and no one gave Dawn any trouble. Which was fine with him, except that now all of Dawn's friends thought he was fascinatingly wonderful, and he would be surrounded by tittering, teenage female hormone bombs every time they went out.
It wasn't so bad, really, except for the fact that he could smell their pheromones and it sometimes drove him crazy. An outcast from his own kind and unable to pass as human after a good feed, he found himself sorely lacking in the romance department. Not that he was looking for any kind of love. His heart belonged to Buffy and would probably stay there, but still, a little sex every now and then would have been nice. He'd thought about buttering Harmony up a bit in hopes of getting a good shag out of her, but then decided against it. Harmony was a threat to Dawn and no threats to Dawn were to be entertained. Ever.
So he stayed celibate, and for the most part he was all right with it. There were other things that were more important than sex, and he had good days and bad days. On good days, he was domestic- cooking, cleaning, making snacks for Dawn. On one of his best days, he had taken Dawn to the Pound to get a dog.
He still remembered that day. It'd been a miserable, rainy day- perfect for vampires to go out in daytime. He'd picked up Nibblet from school and they had gone straight to the animal shelter. Walking in during the worst thunderstorm of the day, they were met by a wet volunteer who blinked at them in surprise.
"How may I help you?" she had asked.
He had turned to Nibblet and she had smiled up at him.
"A dog."
He had nodded and then looked at the volunteer. "Right then. Show us your death row."
"Excuse me?" the volunteer had stammered.
"Your death row. Y'know the ones who're almost outta time. We wanna see them."
"Oh. Well" The volunteer had gestured to a row of cages against a back wall.
Without another word, they had walked purposefully over to the cages. She'd been a shy little thing, all cowered in a run she shared with another pup. A mutt of indeterminate lineage, she had looked like a cross between a German shepherd and a Sheltie with maybe some other herding dog tossed in. A thick medium-length soft black and brown coat covered her and her stump of a tail. She had been submissive, but her eyes had been hopeful and pleading as she crawled on her belly towards them when they came to stand outside her run. She was also the only one who had been willing to lick Spike's hand. With that one gesture of trust, her fate had been sealed. They took her with them that very day thanks to Spike's Big Bad attitude, and she had curled in Dawn's lap all the way home. They had named her Annie and she'd turned into a delightful pet, devoted and loyal to her owners. The day they had brought Annie home had been a very good day.
On his bad days, he Slayed. He Slayed with a savagery and ruthlessness that frightened even him sometimes. On those days he let out all of his pain, anguish, loneliness and rage at the world, and unleashed it upon demon-kind. The demon, Doc, the one responsible for Buffy's death, had been the first one he'd killed. Armed with the knowledge that the demon had survived his fall after Buffy knocked him off the tower, Spike had hunted him down and made certain that he was well and truly dead before leaving his body strewn in multiple pieces all over Sunnydale.
The demon underworld was terrified of him and avoided him at all costs when he was on a rampage. He'd been known to hunt in daytime, scouring the sewers and demon safe havens for victims. He would fight and kill and spill blood until there was nothing left in his path, then he would stagger home, coming in during the early hours of the morning. The lover Wiccas were usually the ones watching Dawn on those nights, and they'd meet him at the door with understanding and no small amount of fear in their eyes. He'd touch them, kiss their foreheads- needing contact to make him feel like something other than the merciless killer he'd just been, and thank them for looking after Dawn. Dawn never saw him when he was like that, he made sure of it. Then he would wash the blood and gore from his body, crawl into his lonely, empty bed in the basement, and sleep until it was time to get Dawn ready for school.
No matter what kind of day he had, however, he always took at least a short patrol. He wouldn't tolerate any fledgling vamps skulking about the cemetery or, God forbid, near the house. Sometimes the whelp and his ex-demon mate went with him, sometimes the Witch, but mostly he patrolled alone. Usually the patrols weren't much of a bother or even a challenge, but it gave him something to do and he could also visit Buffy.
He kept her grave free of weeds and trash. Only once had someone been stupid enough to sully her resting place, and he'd made that one pay in pain and blood. He brought fresh flowers on a regular basis. Sometimes he would just sit and have conversations with his dead love and her mother, telling them all that was going on and unburdening his heart. He hoped that they would have been proud of him, taking up Slaying, taking care of Dawn, living- if only by a thread. He was trying to be strong, but his grief was still a raw and living thing inside of him. He fully planned to guide and protect Dawn until she died of natural causes, then he would find the current Slayer and let her stake him. Once Dawn was gone, he would have nothing left and his promise would be fulfilled. In his particularly morbid moods, he wondered if he could ever redeem himself enough in the eyes of the Powers That Be to earn him the right to be with Buffy after he died. Or perhaps not be with her, but at least to see her one more time. On more than one occasion Willow had found him crying at her grave. He'd go there to weep, when the pain got too much, so Dawn wouldn't see him. She'd sit with him, and they wouldn't speak. What words could be said anyway? None that would mean anything or bring any comfort. When he had pulled himself together, he would give her a quick hug and then walk slowly home.
Two nights ago while visiting Buffy, he'd been attacked by what only could be the current Slayer. He'd fended her off, managing to get a lucky shot and knock her down long enough for him to run away as fast as he could. He'd come home, barely able to stand from the migraine that was building from The Chip, and in the time it took for Dawn to run into the kitchen to get a wet towel, he had filled Xander and Anya in on what had happened, careful to make sure Dawn did not hear. Xander had promised to talk to Giles. He had heard that the new Slayer was coming to Sunnydale to guard the Hellmouth but he hadn't known that she had arrived. Giles would know and Giles would take care of it. Spike had believed Xander. While he and the whelp would probably never be best mates, they had forged a tenuous friendship during the Glory Days as he liked to call them. Besides, they all knew he protected and loved Dawn, and that Dawn needed him. He figured Xander had taken care of it because there were no Slayers waiting for him when he patrolled last night.
He looked at the clock and smiled to himself. Dawn would be home soon. Giles was picking her up from school and classes had let out twenty minutes ago. Good. He had just enough time to make a snack for her. The last few days, she'd been hungry when she got home, so he'd gotten into the habit of having a sandwich ready for her when she got in. Another example of his nancyboy domesticity.
"You, Spike, are a bloody, kid-whipped wanker," he groused to himself as he fetched the sandwich makings. "The Scourge of Europe baking cookies and making lunch for a bloody teenage girl. Pillock. They'd laugh you right out of Hell."
Outside Annie barked at the back door, asking to be let in.
"Yeah yeah, ya mongrel. I'm coming," he sniped as he moved to open the door. The dog scampered in happily, her little stump of a tail wagging like mad, her mud covered paws tracking paw-prints all over the linoleum. "Oh bloody Hell! Come ere you stupid mutt!" he yelled, lunging for the dog and grabbing her before she could get onto the carpet. He then began vigorously wiping off her dirty feet with a dishtowel, complaining all the while. "Track mud all over my clean floor, will you? Flea infested, brainless"
He didn't get any further as the back door was kicked in and he was faced with the figure of a girl holding a stake.
"Slayer" he whispered to himself, too shocked to move for a moment, then Annie gave a high-pitched yipe and he dropped her. The little dog launched herself at the Slayer, snarling, and he watched as the girl struck out, throwing the animal into the kitchen cabinets.
"Wait!" he tried as she turned to him, stake raised.
"I don't know what you think you're doing here, vampire, but you won't live long enough to explain it to me!"
"But I bleedin' live here you idiot!" he snapped.
"Not anymore!"
She lunged at him and he faked away. He knew he couldn't really hurt her, not with The Chip, but he could defend himself for a time. Besides, Dawn would be home soon. Dawn
The knowledge that his charge could very well walk unknowingly into a deadly fight gave him courage and he fought back. The Chip was activating, but he was going into that space where the pain became detached and he was only vaguely aware of it. He kept her at bay as they made their way through the house, furniture smashing, things breaking. The photograph of Buffy and Dawn in the frame Dawn had made fell to the floor and broke into little pieces. He felt its loss. Annie had yet to make a reappearance and he wondered if the Slayer had seriously hurt the dog. Dawn would be crushed if anything had happened to her pet.
The Slayer had him cornered in the living room when Dawn came in. He heard her scream his name in abject terror. The Slayer heard her too, and turned in her direction.
"Get Giles!" he yelled and grabbed the Slayer from behind.
He saw Dawn run for the phone, probably to call Giles on his cell phone. Then the Slayer head-butted him and he lost his grip. She twisted around, kicking him in the stomach, and he went sailing back into an end table. Glass and wood shattered under his weight.
"You get away from him! Leave him alone!" he heard Dawn scream just as the teen tried to hit the Slayer over the head with a lamp.
Then the Slayer made a terrible mistake. She grabbed and slashed at Dawn, cutting her on the forearm. Dawn's cry of pain and the scent of her blood triggered the protective instinct in Spike, and he rose up in a rage. Where before The Chip was keeping him from launching an offensive, now no manner of pain from it could stop him. Snarling, primal, his face in full demon form, he attacked, pummeling her mercilessly until he sent her flying through the air to hit the far wall with a sickening thud.
"You don't come anywhere near her!" he seethed, placing himself between her and Dawn as she tried to pick herself up off the floor.
They were faced off, each prepared to kill the other if given half a chance when Giles came running in.
"Hope! STOP!" the Watcher ordered.
"Get out of here, I can handle this," the Slayer, Hope, answered.
"No! You don't know what you're doing!"
"I know what I'm doing! I'm killing a vampire! I know how to do my job, now get out of here!"
"If you knew your job, you'd know that this is Buffy Summers' house and that's her sister Dawn and that the vampire you're trying to kill is Spike, Dawn's protector and my friend!" Giles yelled.
The Slayer lowered her arm from its fighting stance, her face shocked.
"Dawn?"
"Yes. That's Dawn and Spike."
"Spike?" she repeated.
"YES! Spike! Now explain to me what the hell you are doing here."
"I fought with him in the cemetery two nights ago and last night I followed him here," Hope said.
"You f-followed him?"
The threat passed, Spike relaxed, his game-face melting back to his human one, but with the relaxation came the migraine, blinding and debilitating. He groaned and collapsed to the floor, gripping his head. Dawn was beside him in an instant, helping him up to lie on the couch. Dimly he was aware that Giles and the Slayer were still talking but he couldn't bring himself to care what was being said. Dawn was safe; that was all that mattered.
"Oh God" he moaned, his head splitting.
"You hurt my dog! You BITCH!" Dawn cried, sending spikes of pain all through the vampire's brain.
"I'm sorry. She tried to bite me" Hope explained, but Dawn wasn't paying any attention.
The teen sat on the couch next to Spike and placed a cold, wet washcloth over his eyes.
"Annie?" he choked.
"I think she's okay. I found her cowering under the table. She's limping a little on one foot, but I don't think its bad."
"Good. You?"
"I'm okay too."
He groaned again. "Cut?"
"Not bad."
He sighed. "Good." Then winced from another wave of pain. It was going to be a bad one. He hadn't had one this bad since he'd beat up that jock who was harassing Dawn.
"I'll make you some blood with Tylenol Migraine in it," Dawn offered, getting off the couch.
"Thanks, pet. You're a love."
Giles came close and spoke softly, knowing loud noises would make the pain worse. "Are you all right, Spike?"
"Yeah," he muttered, not bothering to lift the wet cloth from his eyes.
"Good. I'm going to take Hope out of here. I'll ask Willow and the others if they can come by and help with clean-up."
"Thanks."
No more words were said, but Spike heard them leave. He also heard Dawn moving about the room, turning off lights and making the room as dark as possible before settling next to him. She had the drugged blood; he could smell it and he sat up long enough to drink it. Lying back down, he felt Dawn readjust the cloth over his eyes and stroke his hair.
"Hurt bad?" she whispered.
"Yeah."
"You really went after her. I've never seen you fight like that."
"She hurt you."
Dawn's warm and welcome weight settled next to him on the couch, her upper torso draped across his own. She was resting against his chest, her head tucked under his chin, her hands curled into his shirt, and he put an arm around her, holding her close. He smelled the tears before he heard her sniffle.
"Pet?"
"She could've really hurt you or killed you. And I wouldn't have been able to stop her."
"Nah, I coulda taken her in a heartbeat," he bluffed.
"But what if you hadn't? What if she'd staked you?"
"Never gonna happen, luv."
"Everybody I love gets hurt or dies."
"That's not true. I'm still here, aren't I?"
"But for how long?"
"Until the end of the world."
The words only made Dawn cry harder and she clung to Spike. "I miss my mom. I miss Buffy."
"I know. I miss them too, Lil' Bit. I miss them too."
He let her cry herself to sleep and stayed there with her on the couch. Not that he could move. Even with the migraine medication, he knew he wouldn't be able to see straight or tolerate light or loud noise for at least several hours. Annie jumped up on the couch with them, licking their hands before settling down on his legs.
"Bloody mongrel," Spike grumbled, but it hurt to talk so he quieted down.
Lying there, holding Dawn, he allowed himself to feel as much peace and contentment as he could these days and soon he was drifting off too. Willow and Tara found them curled together, fast asleep when they arrived to help clean up the mess.
