Undone Six

A/N: Thanks to Sass, beta extraordinaire.

*****

            Xander's apartment was pitch black and cold enough to make Buffy wish she was wearing more than a thin monk's robe. She felt up the wall for the light switch, beckoning Ethan and Spike through the doorway after her. "It's okay, the place is empty. Xander's been gone for months and no one else has a key."

            Spike made his way into the living room, pulling Ethan alongside. The couch was covered with Xander's clothes. Kicking them aside, he released Ethan but didn't sit beside him. Awareness made his body tense. He jerked his head towards the hallway. "Someone's here, Slayer. Down that way."

            A pile of stakes cluttered the kitchen table. Buffy snatched one up and started towards the hallway. "Stay put," she hissed at Spike and then pointedly, to Ethan, said, "And stay quiet."

            The hallway wasn't long, but it was dark. Buffy couldn't see the three doors to Xander's bedroom, a small storage room, and the bathroom. She checked Xander's room first and found it empty, as was the storage room. The door to the bathroom was shut. She leaned against the frame, her stake held firmly at chest level, and listened. Water's running… that's the sink, I think. Vamps aren't generally the type to be worried about germs, but it could be anything or anyone, really, this place has sat vacant for so long.  

            She turned the knob but found it locked. Raising her fist, she knocked hard. "Whoever you are, open the door. If you make me break it down I'm going to be seriously pissy."

            The door opened and a cloud of steam emerged. Giles appeared in the hallway, his hair damp and tousled, his shirt open, a towel in his hand. "Pissy?"

            Buffy took a step back, blinking hard. "Giles?" She started to hug him, then thought better of it. "You're all wet. But you're… Giles."

            He buttoned his shirt and toweled his wet hair briskly. "You were expecting someone else?"

            "No, but I sure wasn't expecting you. What about Willow? Should you have left her alone right now? She-she probably needs you and-and…"

            "She may, but you do as well. I'm not Willow's Watcher, Buffy. I'm yours. I came straightaway after hearing your message. You sounded like you could use a hand."

            She inched closer to him, his solid presence a comfort she could barely stand to give herself. I'm the Slayer. I'm a grown-up. This is my mess. I shouldn't… but, oh, I'm so glad he's here. "She must be okay without you or you wouldn't have left her."

            Touching her shoulder reassuringly, he said, "She's unconscious. It's doubtful she'll even notice my absence. Now, Buffy. What's happened here? I went to your house and found it overrun with the Knights of Byzantium. From there I went to Spike's crypt, searching for you, and came across Clem. He informed me of all he knew, but that wasn't much. He told me about Spike. And Dawn…" Tossing the towel on the floor behind him, he shook his head. "The Key is breaking down? Dawn is… she's dead, you said in your message, but…"

            "She's not dead," Buffy said. She scooped up his towel and took it into the bathroom. Folding it over the top of the shower to dry, she tried to think of a way to sum up the story. Giles leaned against the sink, patient as always.

Slowly, with many hesitations, she filled him in on the events of the last few days. She kept to the facts as much as possible, glossing over her horror at seeing her sister- daughter- sans humanity and leaving out the details of Spike's emotional break-downs. Even with the omissions, she was shaken at the end and feeling the full effects of her exhaustion for the first time. "So, that's the sitch. We need to find the monks before they stick the Key into Dawn."

            His eyes radiating curiosity, Giles began to speak but stopped as Buffy sagged tiredly against the wall. Giving her a warm smile, he took her arm in his. "That's enough for the moment. There's nothing to be done until you've had a rest. Let's go out to the living room. Spike and Ethan must be at each other's throats by now."

            "What? No. We need to make a plan. I don't need sleep," she argued feebly. She let him lead her down the hall and to the couch where Ethan was slumped over, sleeping hard. She sat on the edge of the cushion, her red eyes straining to stay open wide. "Giles, you're supposed to be here to help, not play English nanny on me. Dawn needs us."

            "She's safe enough for the night from what you said. The monks will need time to progress her body to the age she was when you last saw her." Turning to Spike, Giles studied the vampire, sizing him up.

            Spike stood up straight, meeting Giles' scrutiny as if he'd expected no less, but he couldn't seem to help the slight squirm that grew in him as the moment dragged on unnaturally long. "See anything you like?" he finally muttered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Giles' lips twitched but otherwise his expression remained enigmatic. "Spike. You're looking… thin."

            "Did the Slayer fill you in on…" He gestured to his chest. "Everything?'

            Giles nodded. "She told me about Dawn. I was made aware of your soul when I crossed paths with Clem earlier this evening. Your soul… well, it's an unexpected singularity." Softening, he said, "A miracle. Don't think that means I like you. You've been a pain in my… side more times than I can count. However…" He stuck out his hand. "Congratulations on overcoming your nature."

            Accepting the handshake, Spike said simply, "Thanks."

            Giles gave his hand a hard squeeze. "And how fortunate that you're back in town for this turn of events. Buffy can use all the help she can get. She looks tired, don't you think?"

"Hey," Buffy objected. "You try doing what I've done and see how Maybelline fresh you look."

"She's a right to be knackered. Those monks picked her over, body and mind. Not to mention all the paradox talk. Try wrapping your brain around that one for a bit and you'll see why she's…" Spike yawned hard, interrupting himself. "We're all knackered."

Still holding Spike's hand, Giles said, "She should get some rest. Perhaps… perhaps something hot to drink would help."

Spike looked down at their clasped hands, then back up at Giles and nodded, his eyes narrowing. "Tea then?" he asked, heading for the kitchen. Buffy couldn't see his face, but his voice held an odd note.

"Cocoa," Buffy corrected, slouching back onto the couch, too tired to wonder why he sounded so strange. "And maybe a quick nap." She let her eyes slide closed but her mind raced, abuzz with worry and speculation. Maybe cocoa will help. But first, a plan.

"Cocoa. Right," Spike said, leaving the room.

"We need to find the monks." Buffy opened her eyes, determination pulsing inside of her. We'll find them. She'll be safe. That's all that matters. "Any ideas?"

Nudging Ethan's leg to the side, Giles sat beside Buffy. "Have you any thoughts as to where they might be hiding?" 

"None. Well, okay, there are the usual places bad guys like to hide. Crypts, the mansion, the factories, the woods… but somehow, I can't see monks living in the cemetery. Then again, their monastery came as a surprise."

            "Perhaps they have another house somewhere in town. I doubt they'd leave, not with Dawn in the condition she must have been in, and the Key in its raw state."

            "The Key was still in Dawn last time I saw it. Glowey and everything."

            "Yes, I understand that. But Dawn would have vanished from around it the moment the monks collected her essence from you and… and from Spike. Paradoxes are bad enough; to have her existing in two places at once would have been… well, I'd like to say impossible, but I've learned not to use that word when it comes to all matters involving you."

            "And Spike." She tried to smile but it died before it reached her eyes. "Nice soul he's got, huh?"

Slipping off his glasses, Giles sighed. "About that, Buffy…"

"Here you go," Spike said, returning with a steaming mug in his hands. "Cocoa. All Harris had were the little packets of power mix, so don't be expecting your mum's touch or anything."

"Hot. Liquidy. Chocolate. Therefore, good." Buffy took it from him and inhaled deeply. "Mmm." She tipped the mug back and drank it down in three quick gulps.

"Buffy!" Flushing, Giles grabbed her arm and pulled the mug away from her face. He hid a laugh by clearing his throat. "Drink it slowly. You don't want to…"

Spike let out a loud snicker. He fell to his knees on the floor, laughter shaking his entire body. "You… you…" he gasped, but couldn't stop laughing long enough to speak.

A heady feeling overwhelmed Buffy, dulling her senses with its heat. Her limbs tingled for a moment before an intense heaviness weighted them down, along with her eyelids. They… they didn't. Damn it. "Oh… I get it. That's why you guys held hands for so long. Wondered what was up with the touchie-feelies."

"You've a right to be upset, but do try to see reason. It's not like you'd take the pills on your own. I don't like tricking you, but you need more than an hour's rest and as you are the most stubborn creature I've ever known, resorting to trickery seemed the only option." Giles peered into the mug, the creases at the corners of his eyes deepening as he subdued a smile. "Of course, I didn't expect you to gulp it down like you did."

Dropping her head back involuntarily, Buffy said, "I can't believe you guys did this." Her stomach rolled as the medication gripped her. "What did you give me?"

"Sleeping pills, prescribed to me. Ehm, a triple dose, to suit your supernatural physiology."

"Sorry Slayer," Spike said, still giggling. Hiccup-like snorts punctuated each word. "Trauma-induced laughter here. Just… getting rid of some tension, that's all. Not laughing at you, pet. Really."

"You guys shouldn't have done this. We have…" Rolling her head up, trying to stay conscious, she licked her lips. "We have work to do. Who's gonna find the monks huh? Ethan's out, I will be too, thanks to drug-guy here. Giles, you're hardly back in town, and Spike, well, it wasn't too long ago you were having fits when the lights turned on. Now you think you can do recon by yourself?"

            "The Seer's twiddling in my head wasn't all bad. My thoughts aren't exactly peaches and roses, but I'm lucid enough. Be better when I get some blood in me."

            Giles stood, stretching his back in an arch. "A plan, then. Spike, while you're out getting blood, have a look around and see if you notice anything unusual."

            Buffy mustered up enough strength to glare at him. "That's your plan?"

            "For the moment. After you're rested, there are other things we can do. A-a location spell, perhaps."

            "You can do that?" Spike shrugged at Giles' scowl. "Sorry mate, just never saw you use anything without a thousand pages and a dank library smell."

            "Spike," Giles said, "I suggest you leave now."

            Spike hesitated a moment, looking down at Buffy. "You need anything before I go?"

            A line of surprise formed between her brows. "No."

He nodded his head, to say good-bye she thought at first, but changed her mind when he paused that way. He's bowing to me? "Spike? What are you… look, I'll see you in a few. If you want to help, scout out the streets. Check Willie's, see if he knows anything. All the usual stuff."

Lifting his head, he smiled. "I can do that. Be back before you know it. Sleep well."

They watched him leave, the tails of his robe dragging around his ankles as he walked. When the door shut, Buffy let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "He should have changed into some of Xander's clothes. If he goes into the bar dressed like a monk, Willie'll never let him live it down." Rubbing her eyes, she said, "I've gotta go lie down, but I don't think I can stand by myself. Nice drugs you've got there. You're not forgiven, by the way. I feel crappy."          

            "Forgiveness can wait. Come along now. Xander's room is not the epitome of cleanliness, but it's the only one with a bed. You'll feel better soon." Giles took her hand and helped her up. Putting one arm around her shoulders, he led her down the hallway and into the bedroom.

*****

Spike reentered the apartment quietly. Storing the box of blood packets he'd retrieved from his crypt inside Xander's refrigerator, he crept over to the couch where Ethan slept. "Wake up," he said, prodding the sorcerer's leg with the toe of his boot.

"Go away," Ethan mumbled, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow.

"Not likely." Taking hold of Ethan's arms, Spike pulled him to a stand. "We have work to do."

"Watch the shoulders. I'm wounded, remember." Squinting blearily, Ethan said, "You work all you want. I rather prefer a good, long sleep."

"You can sleep all you want after this is done. That's what you want, right? For this to be over so you can skip the country?" Spike pointed to the door. "Then let's go."

"The Slayer?"

"Never you mind about the Slayer."  Spike headed out of the apartment, only a little surprised when Ethan followed him.

            The streets were empty. Spike walked fast, leaving Ethan laboring to catch up to him. "Where are we going?" Ethan asked, shivering a bit in the chill, night air.

            "There's a girl 'needs saving," Spike said, scanning the alleys as he passed. "Monks won't waste any time getting the Key back inside her. We need to find them."

            "And how, pray tell, do you intend to do that? They leave some sort of calling card we missed? A map, perhaps? Or maybe you just petitioned your higher power and- umph." Recoiling, Ethan rubbed his arm. "For a man with a soul, you're awfully testy." 

            Spike worked his jaw, quickening his pace and making Ethan stumble to keep up. "I've got a soul. I'm not a ponce. There's a marked difference."

            "Which would be what, exactly?"

            "You're a ponce. Harris is a ponce, most of the time. I am not. Get it?" Spike stopped abruptly, seeing his target. He pulled Ethan off the sidewalk into the concealing shadow of a large tree. Peering around the trunk, he assessed the scene.

            Buffy's house seemed to buzz with energy. Every window glowed with light. Spike could see Knights moving from room to room upstairs. In the living room, another group seemed to have settled in. He could almost hear their words. They were eating a pizza, Spike could see the cardboard boxes stacked on the Summers' coffee table, and for some reason, the sight spurred a wave of anger so strong, it was everything he could do to stay hidden. He wanted to storm inside and swipe the food from Buffy's table along with the smiles from the Knight's faces. Along with their bloody faces, he added. That's Buffy's living room, Buffy's home. That should be Buffy's pizza. She should be sitting there, giggling with Nibblet over music videos and popcorn. She should be sleeping in her own bed, safe, not stoned out of her head on the Watcher's Valium, not sleeping in a scratchy monk's robe. She should at least have her nice clothes.

            "You have a plan?" Ethan ventured, leaning as far away from the tree as he could get within the bounds of the shadows. "And tell me it includes moving away from trees. I think I've developed a new phobia."    

            "No plan. Just… follow me. And keep your trap shut. Don't need you screwing this up by… being you." Spreading his arms out wide, Spike stepped out of the shadows. He took one slow step towards the porch, then another. "You coming?"

            "Do I have a choice?" Ethan grumbled. He winced as he raised his arms in a show of defenselessness.

            "Hello!" Spike shouted. "We're waving the white flag out here!"

            "We don't have a…" Ethan bit his lip at Spike's glare. "Right." Raising his voice, he hollered, "Metaphorical white flag!"

Knights flooded out of the house, their swords drawn and held high. They circled Spike and Ethan, trapping them inside the yard. Ethan shifted, his nervousness drawing all color from his face. "There are far too many pointed objects aimed at my head for comfort. If you don't come up with a tactic of utter brilliance, I may just decide that prison was rather cozy afterall. What's the strategy, mate?"

"Shut your gob." Spike's hands clenched as he counted them. "Twenty against two," he called out, spinning in a slow circle to demonstrate his weaponless state. "Not very fair odds, but we're not here to fight. Don't even have any weapons, as you can see. We've come to deal. Where is your General?"

            A large man dressed in a black tunic came down the steps. "I am the General," said, stopping in front of Spike and giving him a measuring stare. "General Iago. State your name and your business here."

            "I'm here on behalf of the Slayer. As for my business, well, ever hear the phrase, the enemy of my enemy is my friend?" Spike squared his shoulders. "Don't generally believe that, myself, but I'm not much of one for following the rules. You want the Key. We want the girl. Neither of us have a sodding clue where the monks have gone, but you might know something we don't."

            "You've come to bargain for the girl's life?" Iago stroked the hilt of his sword absently. "We must destroy the Key. It is too dangerous a tool to be allowed to exist."

            "You think we want it? All we want is the girl. You can do whatever you like with the Key, so long as we get her back safely." Spike let his arms fall to his sides. "All we want is Dawn."

            Tilting his head in assent, Iago said, "If that is how the Slayer feels, then perhaps we can come to an agreement. We know more than you realize."

            Spike raised an eyebrow. "Much?"

            Iago released the sword and beckoned Spike towards the porch. "Come inside. We've a great deal to discuss."

*****

"I never thought I'd see the day when William the Bloody would prostrate himself before the Slayer," Giles said.

"He- what?"

"Spike bowed to you. That's what it's like, then? Spike wins back his soul and suddenly develops good manners?"

Buffy sat on the bed and pulled off her shoes. "Weird, huh? But he wasn't like that before we went skipping through our memories." Flinging her shoes into the corner, she fell back against the pillows. Her head was spinning, her vision blackening more by the moment. I'm going to have one hell of a head-ache when I wake up. Stupid Watcher. Stupid Vampire. Could've at least waited till I took a shower before they made me all faint and helpless-girly. "He wasn't big with the sanity when I found him in his crypt."

            "Before you met with the Seer, he was… unstable?" Giles pulled the blanket up from the foot of the bed and tucked it around her shoulders. Switching off the lamp, he found a desk chair and placed it by the bedside. Before he sat, he adjusted the window blinds, blocking out the orange glare of a streetlight. "Then perhaps there was a point in the memories the Seer took you to after all."

            "Like what? They made no sense. We saw me all little and cute, then me dying, then me in a grave. And then there was the part where we were in the future, but I don't know how much I trust that. Or any of it, really. Who knows what that Seer had up his sleeve? He wasn't exactly big on the trustworthiness' scale."

            "Think, for a moment, of the memories from Spike's perspective rather than your own. If you were Spike- no, forget that. If you were… under a tremendous amount of guilt, suffering for terrible wrongs you'd committed while you were, for all it mattered, held hostage by a demon in your body, what memories would alleviate the pain?"

            Buffy rolled onto her side, facing him. Gathering a shank of blanket under her cheek, she tried to get comfortable. "You're saying the Seer was trying to make Spike feel better?"

            "The memories showed Spike the man inside him. Even the scene from your childhood served to bring out his humanity."

            "So you think that was the whole point? The Seer had to keep us unconscious for a while and it thought like 'oh, by the way, here's some help with that pesky, guilt-induced case of the crazies'? I guess that makes as much sense as any of this." 

            "The monks told you the Seer worked on the side of good."

            "True, but I'm not feeling too hot about trusting their word either. Not after… everything." Amazing how stealing from my body can hamper the trust factor. "Giles… what they did to me… to Spike… they had no right."

            "I wondered how you felt about Spike being Dawn's, well… after a fashion, Dawn's father." Running restless fingers through his hair, he said, "I know the particular emotions it arose in me."

            "It could be worse. It could have been Ethan."

            Slapping his hands down on the tops of his thighs, Giles groaned. "You always do know just how to vex me in the most revolting way possible."

            "That's my job," Buffy said. Her lips curved upwards in an attempt at optimism he could not see in the dimness. "Seriously… yeah, the thought of Dawn being part-vamp is beyond terrifying. But now we have a chance to give her a normal life. If we can get to her before they stick the Key in her, she won't have to worry about hell gods or anything, not ever again. Besides, if she wasn't craving blood and burning in the sun before, she won't be now. Right?"

            "True. But Buffy… Spike?"

            Curling her legs up to her chest, Buffy said, "I know."

            "This can't be easy for you." He touched her shoulder, his fingers a white flash in the darkness. "After all you've gone through in the last few years, I'm amazed at how well you're holding up."

            "Me too, a little," she admitted. "All I can think of right now is getting Dawn back in one piece. Nothing else makes sense to me. It's all freaked-out genetics and paradoxes and time travel and… confusing stuff. Spike. I can't think about that until she's safe."

            "That's an excellent attitude. Very mature. It's… it's gratifying to see."

            "It's not mature. I just don't have any other options. You want the truth? I'm beyond freaked. It's not just that Dawn is now part Spike, it's that she always was and I never knew it. Suddenly, everything I thought I knew is… Giles, things are so… so complicated. I thought Spike was evil. Even when we were… even then, I thought he was bad, with a capital b. A monster. But Dawn… all that time, she had parts of him- his essence- inside of her. And she's not bad, she's not evil. Not at all. How can that be? How could someone so good come from someone who was… a monster?"

            "You still believe Spike is evil?"

"No. See, that's what's making me so mixed up. He was evil, at one point. And then he got the chip, he started to do good things, and sort of shifted into the gray area. I never saw it like that though. My brain doesn't tend to think in gray areas. Black or right, good or bad, pure or evil, that's how my brain works. Maybe it's because I'm a Slayer. You know? Like, to help me do my job, my mind reduces stuff to the simplest form. It tells me, don't think, just kill or protect. One or the other."

            "Then you are faced with nebulous creatures like Spike. And Dawn."

            "And my mind sorta goes plooey." Fingering the edge of the blanket, she collected her thoughts before continuing. "I don't think Spike's bad now. He has a soul. And Dawn, she has a soul too. Maybe that's the line I've always been looking for, the one that separates people into kill or protect. I just… how am I going to tell Dawn? She's already so confused about where she came from."

            "At this point, Buffy, you'd do well to put these questions on the backburner until we're through this crisis. Afterwards, there will be time to process this all, time to decide how best to approach it with Dawn. But for now…" 

"Until Dawn's back in one piece, I have to…" She clasped her hands together and pressed them against her chest. "I have to deal."

            Giles stood, but crouched over and spoke to her at eye level. "And you can do that?"

            "Not alone." One hand shot out and squeezed his quickly. "Thanks for coming."

            "There's no need for thanks between us. But… thank you for that." Coughing, he straightened. "If there's anything you need, I'll be in the other room. Ethan bears a close watching, asleep or awake. And you, Buffy, should be asleep. You can't help Dawn if you get yourself killed out of exhaustion." Reaching into his pocket, he produced a bottle of pills and gave her one. "Take this. Just one more. It'll top you off."

            "What if the Knights show up? I won't be able to fight."

            "You'll be fine. No one knows you're here."

            Swallowing the pill dry, she burrowed under the covers. "G'night."

            Giles waited by the window until her breathing evened. When he was sure she slept, he took a blanket from the foot of the bed and made himself a pallet on the floor. "Good night," he whispered, knowing she would not hear him. Sleep tight. Anyone wanting to get to you will have to kill me first.

*****

She awoke little by little to the feel of a hand stroking her hair. The temptation to roll over and go back to sleep was great but then she remembered. Gotta get up. Dawn's waiting. "M'awake," she slurred, jerking upright, the last remnants of unconsciousness clinging even as she forced her mind to focus. "Time to go?"

"Take a minute, Slayer. You look even more dead than I do."

Spike. She had assumed it was Giles sitting in the chair beside the bed. Getting her elbows under her, she scooted upright. She scrubbed at her dry, grainy-feeling eyes. "How long was I asleep?"

"Long enough." He smiled, an odd, self-satisfied smile reminiscent of the sort of grin he'd given her countless times before his trip to Africa.

She combed her tangled hair with her fingers, dazed by a pang of loss at the sight of his happiness. It had been months since he'd looked at her that way, with that particular spark in his eyes. Before his soul, certainly. Before he stopped smiling all together. Not that he didn't have a good reason. And not that all the guilt was misplaced. He killed and he should feel beyond bad because that's what people with souls do. Even knowing it wasn't really his fault, even knowing that the demon was the real killer, it was still his body, his hands. He should feel bad, at least at first. It's human for him to feel bad until he can logic it into the back of his head. But all the same… it's nice to know he can still smile like that. "How long?" she repeated, swallowing down the tightness in her throat.

His grin widened. "Long enough for me to find you a present."

A present? Spike got me a…what would he get me? What's going on? Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she arranged the robe around her shoulders. "What are you talking about? What present?"

            "You'll see. Here," he said, handing her a bundle. "Put these on and come out to the living room."

            Clothes. She unfolded them, finding her oldest jeans and cozy black sweater. Not just any clothes, but my comfy, had-a-bad-day clothes. "You went to my house?"

            "I did, yes." He put the chair back in its place by the desk, his back to her. "Thought you might like your own things. Monastic brown is not your color."

            "You risked your life to get me clothes?" The words resonated shrilly in the cocooning darkness. Spike flinched just a little, the movement so small Buffy would not have noticed it had she not been staring at him in disbelief. Moderating her tone, she caught his eye as he faced her and said, "Must have been hard to sneak in, what with the Knights there and all."

            "Wasn't easy, that's for bloody sure." Opening the door, he turned back, one hand on the frame. "Get dressed and come out, Slayer. There's work to be done. A girl to be saved."

            "I'll be a minute," Buffy said. She stood and unfolded the sweater. "You go ahead. Start plotting with Giles. We've gotta pull together a plan."

            "Already half-done," he replied. He pulled something small and lacy from his jeans pocket and tossed it to her. "Don't forget these."

            Looking down at her lap, she found her black lace bra and panties. These always were his favorite on me. "Thanks," she said, but he was already gone.