Previously in my AU Buffyverse: Spike managed to latch on to the tower after Doc tossed him off at the end of "The Gift." He stopped the portal opening by catching Dawn's blood before it reached its target. Every night after that, he was tormented by strange dreams. Giles uncovered a prophecy concerning the event, and Spike became the Key's earthly guardian. In the end, he is transformed. This is a sequel to "Coriolis." Events pick up roughly three months following the epilogue. I would recommend reading the prequel, it's definitely worth it. Of course that's just my humble opinion.
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, but baby likes to play. Can you really blame me? So okay, they belong to Joss, ME, and all the levels of hierarchy above that think they can claim ownership. And the chapter title I stole from a movie. Bad me.
Author's Note: Sorry this took so long guys, I've gotten sidetracked with other projects. Hopefully there are still a few faithful readers out there who want to see the sequel
Feedback: Adored, devoured, desired. phaelstya@insightbb.com
*****
He had always loved the hours just before dawn. The way the air wrapped around him, heavy and pregnant with moisture. Mist blanketing everything, as if the fog could somehow mask the unearthly elements that crept along the shadowed alleyways of Sunnydale. With a weary sigh, Spike let his keys fall on the table beside the door, turning to lock it behind him. Strangely, the night vision had remained following the change, so he didn't bother with the lights as he made his way down the hall to the bathroom. Another day lost unraveling countless pages of prophesies. Another night spent fighting the hordes of demons the Hellmouth attracted. Reaching out to turn the shower on, he realized he was almost thankful for this solitude. The past few years hadn't prepared him for the Scooby onslaught following his transformation. All the time now, people surrounded him, battered him at every front with endless questions. Even after he explained the little he knew about what had happened and the knowledge he'd gained, the others always felt the need to second-guess anything he said to them. Force of habit, he supposed...or hoped. Eventually, Spike knew they would grow to trust his insight, if not him. He stripped and stepped under the warm spray, letting it wash away the grit that always clung to him like a second skin after a night spent patrolling. As they had a tendency to do, his thoughts turned to her.
They had never talked about what had happened that night in the cemetery. She hadn't tried to explain herself. And their relationship, if you could call it that, remained the same. The only thing that proved it wasn't some crazy dream was the blush that had been prominently displayed across her perfect cheeks right up to the time he dropped her off at the front door. Still, the memory of her sweet lips pressed willingly against his was enough for the time being. His little foray into her past had opened his eyes. To win her love, to earn her trust, Spike knew he would have to be patient. So far he had managed to refrain from his characteristic outbursts. Oh, he was frustrated, but things were progressing - slowly. Closing his eyes, he scrubbed blunt fingernails against his scalp and let the water run down his face. When they patrolled alone, like tonight, she was always a bit on edge and tried to cover it up with an excess of rambling nonsense. Like she was nervous. It was...absolutely adorable. With a quiet chuckle, he flicked the faucet off. Draping a towel over his head, he rubbed the excess water from his hair and then let it drop in a soggy pile on the floor. Wet footprints trailed behind him as he padded across the hall to his bedroom.
Though he had never been one for soul-searching, Spike found himself reflecting on all the changes that had crept into his life as he stretched out on the bed. Soon after he had finally adjusted to the differences brought about by his new destiny, Giles hired him - unofficially of course - as a consultant and managed to pry a fairly decent salary from the Council's unyielding fingers. They had no idea he was working for them, but as long as he continued to produce accurate results, the Watchers seemed completely unconcerned with the identity of their mysterious specialist. It allowed him a degree of comfort...four rooms that were completely his, running water, plenty of smokes, cable television, and a bit left over for the food he was once again dependent on for survival. He probably could have lived without it, but Spike had a feeling it would be rather uncomfortable being immortal if he was skin and bones. Home was an apartment above a retail shop downtown, not far from the Magic Box. Though small, it had come partially furnished with large windows and hardwood floors. To his surprise, the watcher had helped him with the security deposit, mumbling something about needing him to be close, just in case.
"At their bloody beck and call," he snorted, punching a pillow in disgust.
It was his duty after all. He ran his fingertips over the tattoo on his palm to remind himself why he was here, why he was helping. For Dawn. For Buffy. For some misguided hope that with all the facts he might be able to help them survive. Exhaustion took over as he slipped underneath the covers, and he was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.
*****
She sat staring into space with her elbows propped on the table at the Magic Box, wrapped in the stench of pungent herbs and sulfur. It assaulted her as if it were a physical presence, a fine tendril of gray smoke slithering across her limbs and sending a shiver up the back of her neck. Giles settled on the bench across the table, snapping his fingers before her eyes, trying to bring her back to focus. With a startled blink, Buffy turned her gaze to the watcher and waited for the word storm she knew was coming.
"Power."
She looked at him, clearly baffled and then shook her head. "Huh?"
"They want it. Jihad with one goal alone. The crux. Wings of flame and fury sent to consume. Earthly legions called to paint the cobbles crimson. To undo what was done."
"Giles, what are you talking about?"
He threaded a large gold coin between his fingers and gave her a conspiratorial wink. "The time has come for all good girls to choose. Which team will you play on, Buffy?"
"Which cause do you fight for?" She spun on her heel to see Willow emerge from the shadows, her hair limp and eyes lifeless, but her skin shone, bolts of blue lightning crawling just underneath the surface.
Buffy heard his voice before she saw him. "You wouldn't get lost on us now, would you Buff?" When she turned, Xander edged away from her, eyes averted, broken, like a puppy that had been kicked one too many times.
She watched as Giles vaulted onto the countertop, still spinning the coin between his fingers like some middle-aged British Godfather, and lay down. "You belong here. You have to know that by now." She looked at him questioningly, and almost chuckled when she heard the exasperated little sigh he gave her in response. In a fluid motion, he flicked the coin her direction, smiling when it hit her palm. Buffy fingered it, flipping it over to find an image - the sun setting behind scarlet clouds - emblazoned on the coin's surface.
"Tick tock, my little lieutenant."
Before her eyes, the images of her friends flickered and faded until all that remained was empty space and a sickening red glow as blood seeped into the light fixtures and trickled down the walls. Buffy started as she felt the warm sticky liquid flow over her toes and pulled her knees up to meet her chin.
"Help?"
When she heard the quiet plea, she spun around to find the source. Spike. His hair, his skin, his clothes were covered in the stuff as if he'd been rolling around in the growing puddles on the floor. Those piercing blue eyes were the only things left untouched.
"Please?" He whimpered, and dark streams slid from the corners of his mouth to coat his chin. Buffy's heart hammered in her chest, and she crawled up on the table, beckoning him towards her. The blood had risen to mid-thigh by now and cascaded from the bookshelves like macabre waterfalls.
"Come here."
Grunting with effort, he tried to close the distance between them, but for every attempt Spike made, he seemed to slip farther away. He caught and held her eyes for an instant before the crimson floods took him completely. Without so much as a ripple, something pulled him under, and he was gone.
*****
Gasping, Buffy sat straight up in bed, every muscle tense and aching. She tried to tell herself it was just a normal nightmare...the shrimp she had for dinner playing morbid little games with her stomach and somehow infecting her head. Deep down she knew better, but she also realized that if she thought about it now, it would end in another sleepless night. Chilled air greeted her as she threw back the covers and shuffled across the hall to the bathroom for some water. She scowled at her reflection, taking in the dark circles beneath her eyes and the sunken hollows of her cheeks. Sleep had not come easy lately, but then it never really had.
She felt like she was at war with herself. Especially where it concerned the bleached blond vampire...or whatever he was now, who had a starring role in the dream. Every time she was in a room with him, Buffy could feel his eyes on her. And every time, her traitorous body responded. Patrolling with him had become something out of a valley-girl B movie. She filled the space between them with meaningless chatter, hoping she could trust her mouth to avoid those things she wasn't even ready to say to herself, much less out loud. Fear held those feelings hostage, thankfully. But as weeks stretched into months, the stranglehold it had on her brain weakened and she allowed herself to ponder what exactly about it scared her so much.
Loss. She dreaded opening her heart to someone again. Her father left. Angel left. And though she had never given herself over to Riley, he left too. Somewhere inside she felt it was her fault, that her love drove them away. Too little of it, or too much. Grudgingly, she admitted that she liked Spike where he was. Here. Now it seemed even that was in jeopardy, if her dreams were any indication of what was to come. She splashed some water on her face, trying to banish the thoughts from her head, and made her way back across the hall.
When she crawled beneath the covers, her doubts followed, faithful, annoying shadows. Spike was nothing if not persistent. Two years he stayed without even the slightest encouragement. In fact, more than once she had told him to get out of town, but that had only made him cling more fiercely. So, what if she let herself love him? What if that was what it took to send him running? He was a creature caught between worlds, more so than ever now. It wasn't his fault. People naturally gravitate to those like them...and he was drawn to her. Buffy had no delusions anymore about what she did. Call it slaying or divine destiny or whatever, it meant she went out nightly and killed things. Even if it was in the name of some higher purpose, that didn't change the simple fact of the action. While Spike's motivations in his century plus of happy demon-hood had been less than pure, he was in essence a warrior like her. And there was no saving the innocent lives long lost to his hands, so she simply refused to dwell on it. Spike had changed, even before this Guardian business. Remorse caught up with him, and Buffy knew that on many occasions it was that feeling that sent him reeling into sullen silence. With a frustrated growl, she flopped over onto her stomach, hoping to find some solace in sleep.
*****
Dawn always woke before her sister. Maybe it was the curse of her namesake, but she knew it was probably the fact that Buffy worked hard all day and slayed hard all night, usually creeping up the stairs to bed in the wee hours of the morning. More often than not, it was Spike, of all people, who made sure she got to school on time and in one piece. She actually trusted his driving more than her sister's. As if on cue, she heard a soft rap at the front door and smiled.
"Mornin' Nibblet. You ready?" The smile on Dawn's face turned into a toothy grin when she saw what he was wearing. Her pet project for the past few months had been teaching Spike the value of color, and here he stood in the dark blue long-sleeved tee she picked out for him last week. It really brought out his eyes. But no matter how hard she tried, he wouldn't let go of the black jeans or boots. The guy could be almost as stubborn as Buffy when he wanted to be. And of course the hair was, as always, an unnatural shade of white. At least now he wore it tousled and curly instead of flattening it against his skull like a helmet.
Spike grew uncomfortable under her appraising stare. "What?"
"Oh, nothing." She eyed him once more for good measure. "Let me grab my bag." She hurried into the kitchen to collect her backpack. Upon returning, Dawn found him gone, already down the front walkway and sliding into the driver's seat of the DeSoto.
"Hey! Wait up!" She locked up and scurried across the lawn, rounding the car and throwing herself in the open door on the passenger side. Breathless and giggling she turned to him as he put the car in gear, "You just planning on leaving me here?"
"Got things to do. Don't fancy standing around watching you size me up." His brow furrowed as he looked at her. "Where'd you learn that look anyway, Bit?"
"Huh?"
Spike snorted. "I invented it, don't be coy with me. You know what I'm talking about."
"No...I really don't."
Dawn saw his jaw twitch and his knuckles turn white around the steering wheel. "Like you just spotted a choice cut of meat and can't wait to get it home and unwrap it?" She blushed an impossible shade of red.
"Spike, I didn't mean..."
"Maybe you didn't. Maybe you did. I don't bloody well know. What I do know is how dangerous that look is." He pitched his voice low and threatening, hoping it would get the message across. "Don't use it, for any reason." When he met her eyes, they were big as saucers, and he softened his tone. "It could get you eaten, or worse. You're too young."
"Why doesn't anyone get it? I'm not a..."
"Kid anymore?" he finished for her. "Oh, we get it, ducks. Doesn't mean we have to like it. Also doesn't mean that I've suddenly gone deaf, dumb, and blind. I'm always going to protect you. It's in my sodding job description. And that look...it's nothing but trouble."
Dawn crossed her arms over her chest, pouting. Then an evil grin found its way to her lips. It was high time for a subject change.
"So how are things with Buffy?"
She watched the Adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallowed a couple times. "None of your bloody business. Thought I told you to keep your nose out."
"Still Little Miss Lukewarm, huh?" Spike just scowled. "Look, I'm only trying to help, and you know it."
"Well don't."
"Fine."
"Good."
The car screeched to a halt in front of the school as he put a bit too much pressure on the brake pedal.
"We're here."
With a scowl meant to be menacing, Dawn scrambled out of the car, slamming the door behind her for emphasis. Feeling a bit guilty, she turned to wave goodbye, but the DeSoto was already peeling out of the parking lot.
"Be that way," she grumbled at the taillights and made her way up the steps.
*****
"I wish I could say that I thought it was nothing, but I know better. When my brain starts serving up the weird, cryptic dreams...it usually spells apocalypse." Buffy tugged on the phone cord as she nibbled her lower lip between her teeth feverishly.
"Quite right. I'm glad you told me." Giles removed his glasses, cleaning them on his shirttail and sighed. "But just to be on the safe side, we should keep this between us for the moment. There's no need to worry the others unnecessarily."
"If you think it's best." She didn't know what was best in situations like these, so she left it up to her watcher to decide.
"I do."
Buffy stole a glance at the clock. "Giles, I gotta get to work."
"Yes, of course. Spike should be here any moment."
"You promise to look into it?"
"This very second. Have a good day, Buffy. I hope you'll come by the Magic Box after work."
"I will. Bye Giles."
"Goodbye, Buffy."
TBC
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, but baby likes to play. Can you really blame me? So okay, they belong to Joss, ME, and all the levels of hierarchy above that think they can claim ownership. And the chapter title I stole from a movie. Bad me.
Author's Note: Sorry this took so long guys, I've gotten sidetracked with other projects. Hopefully there are still a few faithful readers out there who want to see the sequel
Feedback: Adored, devoured, desired. phaelstya@insightbb.com
*****
He had always loved the hours just before dawn. The way the air wrapped around him, heavy and pregnant with moisture. Mist blanketing everything, as if the fog could somehow mask the unearthly elements that crept along the shadowed alleyways of Sunnydale. With a weary sigh, Spike let his keys fall on the table beside the door, turning to lock it behind him. Strangely, the night vision had remained following the change, so he didn't bother with the lights as he made his way down the hall to the bathroom. Another day lost unraveling countless pages of prophesies. Another night spent fighting the hordes of demons the Hellmouth attracted. Reaching out to turn the shower on, he realized he was almost thankful for this solitude. The past few years hadn't prepared him for the Scooby onslaught following his transformation. All the time now, people surrounded him, battered him at every front with endless questions. Even after he explained the little he knew about what had happened and the knowledge he'd gained, the others always felt the need to second-guess anything he said to them. Force of habit, he supposed...or hoped. Eventually, Spike knew they would grow to trust his insight, if not him. He stripped and stepped under the warm spray, letting it wash away the grit that always clung to him like a second skin after a night spent patrolling. As they had a tendency to do, his thoughts turned to her.
They had never talked about what had happened that night in the cemetery. She hadn't tried to explain herself. And their relationship, if you could call it that, remained the same. The only thing that proved it wasn't some crazy dream was the blush that had been prominently displayed across her perfect cheeks right up to the time he dropped her off at the front door. Still, the memory of her sweet lips pressed willingly against his was enough for the time being. His little foray into her past had opened his eyes. To win her love, to earn her trust, Spike knew he would have to be patient. So far he had managed to refrain from his characteristic outbursts. Oh, he was frustrated, but things were progressing - slowly. Closing his eyes, he scrubbed blunt fingernails against his scalp and let the water run down his face. When they patrolled alone, like tonight, she was always a bit on edge and tried to cover it up with an excess of rambling nonsense. Like she was nervous. It was...absolutely adorable. With a quiet chuckle, he flicked the faucet off. Draping a towel over his head, he rubbed the excess water from his hair and then let it drop in a soggy pile on the floor. Wet footprints trailed behind him as he padded across the hall to his bedroom.
Though he had never been one for soul-searching, Spike found himself reflecting on all the changes that had crept into his life as he stretched out on the bed. Soon after he had finally adjusted to the differences brought about by his new destiny, Giles hired him - unofficially of course - as a consultant and managed to pry a fairly decent salary from the Council's unyielding fingers. They had no idea he was working for them, but as long as he continued to produce accurate results, the Watchers seemed completely unconcerned with the identity of their mysterious specialist. It allowed him a degree of comfort...four rooms that were completely his, running water, plenty of smokes, cable television, and a bit left over for the food he was once again dependent on for survival. He probably could have lived without it, but Spike had a feeling it would be rather uncomfortable being immortal if he was skin and bones. Home was an apartment above a retail shop downtown, not far from the Magic Box. Though small, it had come partially furnished with large windows and hardwood floors. To his surprise, the watcher had helped him with the security deposit, mumbling something about needing him to be close, just in case.
"At their bloody beck and call," he snorted, punching a pillow in disgust.
It was his duty after all. He ran his fingertips over the tattoo on his palm to remind himself why he was here, why he was helping. For Dawn. For Buffy. For some misguided hope that with all the facts he might be able to help them survive. Exhaustion took over as he slipped underneath the covers, and he was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.
*****
She sat staring into space with her elbows propped on the table at the Magic Box, wrapped in the stench of pungent herbs and sulfur. It assaulted her as if it were a physical presence, a fine tendril of gray smoke slithering across her limbs and sending a shiver up the back of her neck. Giles settled on the bench across the table, snapping his fingers before her eyes, trying to bring her back to focus. With a startled blink, Buffy turned her gaze to the watcher and waited for the word storm she knew was coming.
"Power."
She looked at him, clearly baffled and then shook her head. "Huh?"
"They want it. Jihad with one goal alone. The crux. Wings of flame and fury sent to consume. Earthly legions called to paint the cobbles crimson. To undo what was done."
"Giles, what are you talking about?"
He threaded a large gold coin between his fingers and gave her a conspiratorial wink. "The time has come for all good girls to choose. Which team will you play on, Buffy?"
"Which cause do you fight for?" She spun on her heel to see Willow emerge from the shadows, her hair limp and eyes lifeless, but her skin shone, bolts of blue lightning crawling just underneath the surface.
Buffy heard his voice before she saw him. "You wouldn't get lost on us now, would you Buff?" When she turned, Xander edged away from her, eyes averted, broken, like a puppy that had been kicked one too many times.
She watched as Giles vaulted onto the countertop, still spinning the coin between his fingers like some middle-aged British Godfather, and lay down. "You belong here. You have to know that by now." She looked at him questioningly, and almost chuckled when she heard the exasperated little sigh he gave her in response. In a fluid motion, he flicked the coin her direction, smiling when it hit her palm. Buffy fingered it, flipping it over to find an image - the sun setting behind scarlet clouds - emblazoned on the coin's surface.
"Tick tock, my little lieutenant."
Before her eyes, the images of her friends flickered and faded until all that remained was empty space and a sickening red glow as blood seeped into the light fixtures and trickled down the walls. Buffy started as she felt the warm sticky liquid flow over her toes and pulled her knees up to meet her chin.
"Help?"
When she heard the quiet plea, she spun around to find the source. Spike. His hair, his skin, his clothes were covered in the stuff as if he'd been rolling around in the growing puddles on the floor. Those piercing blue eyes were the only things left untouched.
"Please?" He whimpered, and dark streams slid from the corners of his mouth to coat his chin. Buffy's heart hammered in her chest, and she crawled up on the table, beckoning him towards her. The blood had risen to mid-thigh by now and cascaded from the bookshelves like macabre waterfalls.
"Come here."
Grunting with effort, he tried to close the distance between them, but for every attempt Spike made, he seemed to slip farther away. He caught and held her eyes for an instant before the crimson floods took him completely. Without so much as a ripple, something pulled him under, and he was gone.
*****
Gasping, Buffy sat straight up in bed, every muscle tense and aching. She tried to tell herself it was just a normal nightmare...the shrimp she had for dinner playing morbid little games with her stomach and somehow infecting her head. Deep down she knew better, but she also realized that if she thought about it now, it would end in another sleepless night. Chilled air greeted her as she threw back the covers and shuffled across the hall to the bathroom for some water. She scowled at her reflection, taking in the dark circles beneath her eyes and the sunken hollows of her cheeks. Sleep had not come easy lately, but then it never really had.
She felt like she was at war with herself. Especially where it concerned the bleached blond vampire...or whatever he was now, who had a starring role in the dream. Every time she was in a room with him, Buffy could feel his eyes on her. And every time, her traitorous body responded. Patrolling with him had become something out of a valley-girl B movie. She filled the space between them with meaningless chatter, hoping she could trust her mouth to avoid those things she wasn't even ready to say to herself, much less out loud. Fear held those feelings hostage, thankfully. But as weeks stretched into months, the stranglehold it had on her brain weakened and she allowed herself to ponder what exactly about it scared her so much.
Loss. She dreaded opening her heart to someone again. Her father left. Angel left. And though she had never given herself over to Riley, he left too. Somewhere inside she felt it was her fault, that her love drove them away. Too little of it, or too much. Grudgingly, she admitted that she liked Spike where he was. Here. Now it seemed even that was in jeopardy, if her dreams were any indication of what was to come. She splashed some water on her face, trying to banish the thoughts from her head, and made her way back across the hall.
When she crawled beneath the covers, her doubts followed, faithful, annoying shadows. Spike was nothing if not persistent. Two years he stayed without even the slightest encouragement. In fact, more than once she had told him to get out of town, but that had only made him cling more fiercely. So, what if she let herself love him? What if that was what it took to send him running? He was a creature caught between worlds, more so than ever now. It wasn't his fault. People naturally gravitate to those like them...and he was drawn to her. Buffy had no delusions anymore about what she did. Call it slaying or divine destiny or whatever, it meant she went out nightly and killed things. Even if it was in the name of some higher purpose, that didn't change the simple fact of the action. While Spike's motivations in his century plus of happy demon-hood had been less than pure, he was in essence a warrior like her. And there was no saving the innocent lives long lost to his hands, so she simply refused to dwell on it. Spike had changed, even before this Guardian business. Remorse caught up with him, and Buffy knew that on many occasions it was that feeling that sent him reeling into sullen silence. With a frustrated growl, she flopped over onto her stomach, hoping to find some solace in sleep.
*****
Dawn always woke before her sister. Maybe it was the curse of her namesake, but she knew it was probably the fact that Buffy worked hard all day and slayed hard all night, usually creeping up the stairs to bed in the wee hours of the morning. More often than not, it was Spike, of all people, who made sure she got to school on time and in one piece. She actually trusted his driving more than her sister's. As if on cue, she heard a soft rap at the front door and smiled.
"Mornin' Nibblet. You ready?" The smile on Dawn's face turned into a toothy grin when she saw what he was wearing. Her pet project for the past few months had been teaching Spike the value of color, and here he stood in the dark blue long-sleeved tee she picked out for him last week. It really brought out his eyes. But no matter how hard she tried, he wouldn't let go of the black jeans or boots. The guy could be almost as stubborn as Buffy when he wanted to be. And of course the hair was, as always, an unnatural shade of white. At least now he wore it tousled and curly instead of flattening it against his skull like a helmet.
Spike grew uncomfortable under her appraising stare. "What?"
"Oh, nothing." She eyed him once more for good measure. "Let me grab my bag." She hurried into the kitchen to collect her backpack. Upon returning, Dawn found him gone, already down the front walkway and sliding into the driver's seat of the DeSoto.
"Hey! Wait up!" She locked up and scurried across the lawn, rounding the car and throwing herself in the open door on the passenger side. Breathless and giggling she turned to him as he put the car in gear, "You just planning on leaving me here?"
"Got things to do. Don't fancy standing around watching you size me up." His brow furrowed as he looked at her. "Where'd you learn that look anyway, Bit?"
"Huh?"
Spike snorted. "I invented it, don't be coy with me. You know what I'm talking about."
"No...I really don't."
Dawn saw his jaw twitch and his knuckles turn white around the steering wheel. "Like you just spotted a choice cut of meat and can't wait to get it home and unwrap it?" She blushed an impossible shade of red.
"Spike, I didn't mean..."
"Maybe you didn't. Maybe you did. I don't bloody well know. What I do know is how dangerous that look is." He pitched his voice low and threatening, hoping it would get the message across. "Don't use it, for any reason." When he met her eyes, they were big as saucers, and he softened his tone. "It could get you eaten, or worse. You're too young."
"Why doesn't anyone get it? I'm not a..."
"Kid anymore?" he finished for her. "Oh, we get it, ducks. Doesn't mean we have to like it. Also doesn't mean that I've suddenly gone deaf, dumb, and blind. I'm always going to protect you. It's in my sodding job description. And that look...it's nothing but trouble."
Dawn crossed her arms over her chest, pouting. Then an evil grin found its way to her lips. It was high time for a subject change.
"So how are things with Buffy?"
She watched the Adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallowed a couple times. "None of your bloody business. Thought I told you to keep your nose out."
"Still Little Miss Lukewarm, huh?" Spike just scowled. "Look, I'm only trying to help, and you know it."
"Well don't."
"Fine."
"Good."
The car screeched to a halt in front of the school as he put a bit too much pressure on the brake pedal.
"We're here."
With a scowl meant to be menacing, Dawn scrambled out of the car, slamming the door behind her for emphasis. Feeling a bit guilty, she turned to wave goodbye, but the DeSoto was already peeling out of the parking lot.
"Be that way," she grumbled at the taillights and made her way up the steps.
*****
"I wish I could say that I thought it was nothing, but I know better. When my brain starts serving up the weird, cryptic dreams...it usually spells apocalypse." Buffy tugged on the phone cord as she nibbled her lower lip between her teeth feverishly.
"Quite right. I'm glad you told me." Giles removed his glasses, cleaning them on his shirttail and sighed. "But just to be on the safe side, we should keep this between us for the moment. There's no need to worry the others unnecessarily."
"If you think it's best." She didn't know what was best in situations like these, so she left it up to her watcher to decide.
"I do."
Buffy stole a glance at the clock. "Giles, I gotta get to work."
"Yes, of course. Spike should be here any moment."
"You promise to look into it?"
"This very second. Have a good day, Buffy. I hope you'll come by the Magic Box after work."
"I will. Bye Giles."
"Goodbye, Buffy."
TBC