Chapter 3: Nine Little Indians...
In the end, it was Spike who carried Dawn up to her room and laid her on the bed, covering her body with a white sheet.
He sat by her body and stroked her hair gently, mourning the loss of one so young. And when Buffy entered the room quietly, unnoticed by the vampire without his hearing, she found him softly singing to her:
"Sleep my love, and peace attend thee,
All through the night,
Guardian angels God will lend thee,
All through the night,
Soft the drowsy hours a-creeping
Hill and dale in slumber sleeping,
I, my loving vigil keeping,
All through the night…"
He felt a presence behind him, but when he turned, no one was there.
Willow and Tara walked down the hall towards their room, holding hands. As they reached Willow's room, she repeated for the tenth time, "I can't believe she's really gone."
Tara nodded again, knowing it was probably hard for Willow to lose someone like Dawn, thinking how hard Buffy must be taking it. "We'll get to the bottom of this, we will. We all just need to… rest."
Willow nodded, opening her door.
"Do you… do you want me to come in?" Tara asked, hesitantly.
Willow turned to the blonde and looked at her sheepishly. "Um, I think… I think I'd like to be… alone, tonight."
Tara nodded, although the hurt look on her face did not escape Willow.
"It's just that… what happened tonight… and this house… not in this house…" Willow tried to explain but Tara stopped her with her hand.
"It's okay, really. Sleep tight. Lock the door," added Tara.
Willow smiled weakly and then said, almost as an afterthought, "Tara, there are no… ghosts here, right?"
"No," Tara smiled. "Ghosts don't tend to poison people. No, this is something human, Willow. Something bad human…"
"I mean," Willow paused, playing with the doorjamb. "All that stuff she was saying, you know, before… you don't think…"
"What, Willow? That she killed herself?"
"It's possible, isn't it? Guilt, over that whole Barry thing?"
"Willow, where would she get the cyanide? Besides, this is Dawn! Sure, she was a bit whiny, but what teenager isn't? She wouldn't…"
"Lots of teenagers do," Willow pointed out. "I just saying… it's possible, right?"
Tara stared at Willow. "It's possible," she finally admitted. "But…"
"Otherwise, there's no one on the island. Remember? Xander and Angel made a sweep of the island. We're the only ones here, Tara."
Tara took a moment to digest Willow's implication. "Are you saying it's one of us?"
Willow looked at her girlfriend, sadly. "There's no one else here."
Tara looked at Willow, confused and frightened. Then she said, "We'll… we'll figure this out in the morning."
"Tara…"
"Yes?"
Willow paused and then asked, "Want to come in?" She opened her room door wider.
Tara smiled. "No, it's okay. I think… we need time alone."
"But…"
"You're right. Not in this house. When we get off this island, I promise."
"All right."
"Good night…"
"Good night."
Xander dusted his hands off angrily as he reached his room. Two hours searching this place with Angel… Xander never wanted to leave a place more. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, they would figure a way off this island and what killed Dawn.
He turned his head as he heard a soft whispering. He looked up to see Anya and Cordelia reaching their rooms, in deep, hushed conversation. It stopped when they saw him, but when he angrily went into his room and shut the door; he heard them take up where they left off. Leaning back on the door, he shut his eyes and realized what was worse that having two annoying vampires in the house with him. And that was having two very angry ex-girlfriends in the house with him. And having them befriend each other.
He banged his head back on the door and looked over to where the small, framed poem hung. Suddenly, all the ten nasty things he wanted to do to Angel and Spike applied to Anya and Cordelia… wait, ten little Indians went out to dine… one choked himself and then there were… this had to be a coincidence… right?
Xander read the verse again. Under any other circumstance, he would have dismissed it, but in a supposedly haunted house, with a history, with such a death…
As he readied for bed, Xander thought back to all that happened that night, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Aaron. It had been an accident. It had been.
"Xander! You watch your brother now!"
"Aww, Mom, do I have to?!"
"He's your little brother… he's just a baby…"
"Hey! I'm not a baby!"
"Oh, yes, you are, honey, Mommy's special, little baby…"
"Xander! Look at that tree! It's up in the clouds!"
"Whatever… look, just sit over there and be quiet, okay?"
"Can I climb that tree, Xander? Please? I want to touch the clouds!"
"No! It's too high! You're going to hurt yourself!"
"But Jack Taylor gets to…"
"Jack's twice your size… You're just a little kid, okay?! Now, sit over there and play with your cars…"
"Xander, look at me!"
"Aaron, NO!"
"Ahhhhh!"
"Aaron! AARON! Can you hear me?! Wake up!"
"No!" Xander screamed, then realized he was in the small room and it was over, in the past… He breathed hard as he tried to sleep. "It was a accident," he reminded himself. "Just an accident…"
"Are you going to be okay?" Angel asked again.
Buffy nodded somewhat impatiently. "Yes, Angel. I'm fine, now. I'm going to sleep, okay?"
"Sure?"
"Yes! …I just need some time, please."
Angel looked at her, not really certain if he should leave her, but he found himself with no choice as she took him by the arm and led him out of her room and into the hallway.
"Well, call me if you need me. I'm two rooms down."
"Okay."
"Really. Even in the middle of the night. I probably won't be sleeping."
"I know, Angel."
Angel nodded and the said, "Okay, then. Well… good night."
"Good night."
She closed the door, preventing Angel from saying anything else and breathed an deep, even breath. She had forgotten how insistent Angel could be. Always trying to make sure she was okay. At first, she was glad for his comfort but after a while, it was suffocating. Buffy turned back the covers of her bed and started to shuck off her robe.
"Is he gone?"
"Aah!" cried Buffy, spinning to meet her intruder. The she relaxed when she saw who it was. "Spike, how many times have I told you…?"
Spike looked around the room. "He's gone, then?"
"Who, Angel? Yes, he's gone. What are you doing in my room?"
"I came to see if you were okay. But I guess my sire's done a good enough job of that now, hasn't he?"
Buffy smiled at his jibe and then said, "Yes… yes, he has. And yes, I'm okay."
"Really?"
"Really."
"All right, then," he finally said, awkwardly. "Guess I'll just…" he pointed to the door.
"Are you okay?' she asked him, before he reached the door.
Spike turned to her. "Beg your pardon?"
"Are you okay?" she repeated. "I mean, you cared for Dawn and… are you okay?" she asked.
He stared at her for a moment, then dropped his eyes to the ground. He obviously had not anticipated she or anyone would have cared to ask.
"Um, yeah, I guess." He looked up at her and then away. "It… it hurts," he admitted.
She nodded slowly.
"I thought… the world of her. She's the only one who looked at me and saw something besides a monster. She looked at me… and I wasn't a vampire. I was just another of you." He took a few steps towards her and added, "I would have done anything for that girl."
"I know," she whispered. "It hurts me, too." Then she asked, "How… when does it stop?"
"It doesn't… not really. Over time, it dulls a bit. You learn to move on, to eat, sleep, laugh again. A minute, a day, a year… But it never stops hurting."
She nodded slowly, crossing her arms. After a moment, she said, "You cried. I've… I've never seen you cry."
Spike looked at her. "I did once."
"When?"
"The day you died."
"Oh."
A beat of silence then Spike coughed uncomfortably and said, "Look, I'll just leave you to your rest, if…"
"Stay." The word left her lips and pierced his heart.
"Excuse me?"
Buffy couldn't believe she had just said that, it was a knee-jerk reaction, she knew. But now that it was said, she realized that's really what she wanted so she said it again. "Stay."
Spike looked at her, incredulously. "Are you sure?"
She nodded. "I… need you to stay." She reached forward and took his hand, leading him towards the bed. He understood what she wanted and despite the desire running through him, he stopped her.
"No. You're just… vulnerable… I can't…"
She looked up at him and cupped his cheek. "Please, Spike. I… I don't want to feel alone tonight."
"You're not alone, Buffy… you're…"
She pressed her body up against his and stared into his eyes. "Then prove it. Please. Stay."
Spike felt he might regret this one day, probably the next morning, probably sooner than that. But that split second in time, there was only her and him, and there would be no regrets. Only them, together again and as he had told them all before, he was a weak boy. And that weak boy turned into the weak man he was when he was with her.
As he laid her down on the bed, lips on her throat, pushing aside her robe, he thought of nothing but his love and cursed his weakness.
Giles poured over the second book, despite his eyes threatening to close. He had to find out what happened. He should have never suggested this retreat, he cursed himself. Why had he been so insistent? he wondered.
He combed through the power binding spell John had laid and cross-referenced it with possible demons that are involved with the kind of spell-casting John had. Nothing, nothing and more nothing!
"The power is within you, Rupert… but you can't just rip it out."
"Come on, Ripper, bending the rules is not breaking them!"
"Time and patience, young wizard…"
"It's just a spell, Ripper. Easy as pie… we can't bollock this up!"
"The Council has its eye on you, Mr. Giles. Do not disappoint us…"
"The power is within you, Rupert…"
"So, why can't I very well use it?!"
"All things in due time… Magic is a muscle… it takes practice and discipline…"
"Ex unas acia a lux lucis es totus locuna quod totus unoversitas a secui a…Absentises locus a barba calax…"
**From one thread of light are all words and all worlds woven...Gone are the places of whispering stones...**
"No, Rupert! No!"
"Ethan! What's happening?!"
"Patefacio porta a vox…Etiames es calauticia's ut refero unus…"
**Open the Gates of the Powers...Still are the voices that echoed alone...**
"RUPERT! NO!"
"Laura? Laura! LAURA!!!"
Giles lifted his head with a start. Laura. He could almost hear her, touch her. No, that was a long time ago, Rupert, he chided himself. There are no ghosts here. No ghosts.
None, except the one in his mind.
Cordelia carried the teacups and saucers back to kitchen… Dawn, dead… She couldn't quite come to terms with it… Going back through the dining room to go back up to her room, she paused at the table, staring at it, surprised she even noticed… Cordelia counted and re-counted them.
That's strange… she thought. Nine statutes? I was so sure there were ten at dinner…
Tara tossed and turned, trying to get some sleep. But she kept thinking of Dawn and the poison and the recording. Dawn had been right. Someone was playing with them.
She sat up and rubbed her face in exhaustion. I mean, Uncle Ray? she thought. I haven't thought of him since my childhood. That was all in the past. Everyone had… understood. No one had questioned her integrity. They had all agreed Uncle Ray was no good.
Now, she could almost hear Donny's yelp as Uncle Ray approached him… the feel of the heavy pan in her hands… the audible crack as she swung it down… She had to, to save Donny, she was a child… she never intentionally wanted to hurt him!
He had it coming; he should have never come home that night. He should have never drank, never threatened her and her brother. Like Anya said, it wasn't easy to live in those times. She had to make a choice. Tara had chosen her battles, and now, in her bed, Tara realized she, too, didn't regret what she did. Uncle Ray would have come for her sooner or later and maybe she would have been worse off… he could have killed her.
No, it had been better this way… maybe she had been a bit like God, taking a human life. Maybe she did feel a little powerful, knowing she had that ability within her. But now, someone else took the girl she loved away from her. So, Tara was going to find out who it was, and when the time came… do what needed to be done.
Tara sipped the water from the glass beside her bed. Suddenly, with all that decided, she felt sleep was possible… actually, sleep was necessary… Tara would sleep and tomorrow… tomorrow, she would find Dawn's killer… she would get them off this island… she would take Willow up on her promise… and everything here, Uncle Ray, the voice, the island… it would all become nothing more than a dream…
Spike watched as Buffy slept, her even breathing, the spill of her golden hair. The tune of the old English folk song echoed in his mind, stuck in his brain since they had arrived in London. He hadn't heard it on over a hundred years, yet the simple words tumbled out of his mouth, softly, as he watched his Slayer sleep.
While the moon her watch is keeping,
All through the night.
While the weary world is sleeping,
All through the night.
O'er my bosom gently stealing,
Visions of delight revealing.
Breathes a pure and holy feeling,
All through the night.
"You were singing that… before, to Dawn," she said, not moving.
Spike chuckled, glad she wasn't asleep, as he turned onto his side and slid over to her. "Now, who was spying on who?"
He slid his hand down the silken arm in front of him, and scooped up closer to Buffy's back. He gently kissed her shoulder, then her cheek.
"Spike," she whispered.
"Hmm?"
"You would never… leave me, would you?"
"Never, luv."
He held her closer and Buffy closed her eyes and moaned softly.
"Thank you for staying," she added. "I… I feel safer… with you here."
She felt his hand move away, his body stiffen behind her.
"Spike?" she asked, as he turned on his back, away from her.
She sat up and turned to him, leaning on one elbow. She saw him stare up at the ceiling as he asked, "Do you ever think there's even a remote chance that one day, you could grow to love me?"
Buffy looked down. "I… I don't know, Spike," she answered, honestly.
He turned his head and looked at her. "You are so beautiful," he whispered, then he looked back at the ceiling, and in his usual cocky tone, added, "Think if Angel could provide you with the kind of comfort I can, would I really be here, in your bed?"
"Spike…"
"I gather it would be him," he said, almost as if reasoning with himself. "Doubt you'd settle for me… He has a soul and I'm nothing but a monster."
"Spike…"
He paused to let her say what she wanted but when she found herself at a loss of words to deny what he said, he added, "Buffy, I love you and you know I do… but sometimes I wonder how long I'm going to delude myself into thinking there could be a chance you'd feel the same way. The only reason I'm here now is you feel lost, lost because of Dawn."
She sat quietly, absorbing the truth of his words, afraid of the next ones.
He sat up beside her and took her face in his hands. "So, here's my decision. I love you and I know you probably will never love me. But I am weak and I… I need you. So, I'm here for you, as long as you need me, too. Maybe I'm setting myself up for the biggest hurt of all, but I guess that's the kind of bloody masochist I am."
"I…" Buffy tried to argue, knowing it was wrong to use him like that, but he placed a finger on her lips, as to shush her.
"Don't… don't say it…"
She closed her eyes briefly, coming to her own decision, glad for it but hating herself the more for it, and then she looked at him and said, "I… I need you, too, Spike."
He smiled. "Then that's a start." He opened his arms as she slid into them, capturing his mouth with her own.
[the next morning]
"Good morning."
Angel looked up and saw Giles' haggard face and said, "I'd say the same, but you look like it isn't one. Did you stay up all night?"
"Most of it," he admitted. "Just some research."
Angel paused, then asked, "You brought your books? I thought this was a retreat."
Giles looked up sharply at Angel. "Helps to be prepared."
Angel nodded, then added, "Yes… except there really should have been no reason to feel like we had to be prepared, is there?"
Giles narrowed his eyes at Angel, but said nothing as the others began to come down into the dining room they were seated in.
Xander said, "I looked at the radio, G-man. You're right, it's busted beyond repair. We're really stuck here."
"Can we just find some other way to signal the mainland?" asked Willow.
"How? The coast is so far away," Anya replied.
"What about a magical indication?" suggested Buffy.
Spike shook his head. "Barrier, remember?"
"Well, take it down! It can't be that hard!" she cried.
"Actually, it can," answered Giles. "I looked at the spell John used. Very intricate and calls on the supplication of many gods. I tried to find some loophole…"
"What about Tara? She's good with that kind of stuff," Willow suggested.
"Yes, well, I intended to ask her for her support in this," Giles quickly added. "Where is she?" he asked.
"Um, sleeping for now, I guess, but I could go wake her."
"Please do," said Giles. "In the meantime, let's get some breakfast. Anya, Cordelia, would you two give me a hand?"
Anya huffed in annoyance but rose and followed Cordy and Giles into the kitchen, as Willow bounced upstairs to get Tara.
"How are you feeling, Buffy?" asked Xander.
"Better," she nodded. "I just… want to get out of here, that's all."
"And we will, pet," Spike promised again, but his voice seem a little distracted as he stared at the table.
"Spike? Spike, what's wrong?" she asked, as she saw his focus and they all looked as he pulled the centerpiece closer, using his finger to count the statues.
"…six, seven, eight… eight Indians," he said wondrously. "Weren't there ten last night?" he asked Giles as he, Anya and Cordelia re-entered the kitchen with the food.
"You mean, nine," said Cordelia.
"No, there were ten," Giles said, "I remember Tara making a point of that to Dawn."
"Yes, but when I cleared last night, there were only nine. I remember because I thought there had been ten too. I thought I had misheard," explained Cordelia.
Spike looked around the table. "There's ten of us… nine, last night…" he said, the pieces falling into place. "Eight, now…" Spike looked up to the stairs leading to the bedroom, half out of his chair. "Willow…"
They heard a scream upstairs as Spike bounded up the stairs. They all followed as they entered Tara's room to find Willow on the bed, sprawled over Tara's inert body. She looked up as they came in, face tear-streaked.
"I tried to wake her up… she won't wake up! She won't wake up!"
Angel walked over to Tara's side, picked up her wrist and felt for a pulse. He looked into Tara's face and felt her throat, as if needing to reconfirm his suspicion, not willing to believe the first one. Then he looked at Willow and said, "She's dead."
With an almost inhuman scream, she broke down again, monotonous repeating, "Tara! No! Tara! Tara! No! No!"
Buffy sat beside her on the bed and took Willow into her arms, rocking back and forth with her.
"What – What was it this time?" asked Cordelia, fearfully.
Angel looked around Tara's body and then spotted the glass on the nightstand beside her. He picked it up and sniffed it. "I think the same thing," he finally said. "Almonds?"
Giles nodded. "The cyanide is colorless, easily dissolved."
"Are you sure?" asked Anya.
"Only one way," said Spike, leaning on the doorway. "Your turn, Peaches."
Angel looked at Spike, then at the glass. He took a careful sip of the water and felt its effects immediately. He collapsed on the ground, not quite managing to put the glass back on the nightstand first, spilling its contents all over the carpet.
"Angel!" screamed Buffy from the bed, as Cordelia ran to Angel's unconscious form.
"Don't worry, it's like Spike yesterday. He'll come to," explained Giles. "But he ascertained the cause of death for us. It was indeed poison."
"What is going on here? Two murders in less than twenty-four hours?!" cried Xander. "Who would want to kill two girls?"
"Someone with a sick sense of humor," said Spike. When they all looked at him, he pointed to the framed poem. "Ten little Indian boys went out to dine, one went and choked himself, and then there were nine. Nine little Indian boys stayed up late, one overslept himself, and then there were eight," he recited.
"Too much of a coincidence," Giles agreed. "But we searched this island! If someone were here, we would have found him!"
"Oh, but there is someone," Willow answered in creepy, dull voice. Buffy held her at arms' length as Willow turned to them, with red, blood-shot eyes. "There's eight of us. One of us is doing this. One of us is the murderer."
They all stood there, wide-eyed, open-mouthed and horrified at the implication of her words.