Chapter 4: Instant Family
"Dylan?" Buffy said in a small voice, her eyes locked on the little girl that stood in front of the sink.
The three of them stood there in complete silence, none of them moving, not even daring to breathe for fear of breaking the trance they were in. Buffy couldn't take her eyes off the child standing in front of her. That child that had Spike's eyes and her own nose, looking at Buffy like she might be sick or swallow her tongue or just blink, say 'Oh,' and be done with it. Actually, the slayer bet on option d, the 'scampering away like a scared bunny if she made a wrong move' option.
This wasn't right. It couldn't be right. Dylan was a baby. She had been that morning. She couldn't be…a seven-year-old girl. Seven years. Oh, God, she'd missed seven years. They had told her, but she hadn't fully believed them…until now.
Somewhere in the far distant portion of the universe, they heard the front door shut as Dawn showed Mrs. Montello out and felt the college girl as she approached them, oblivious to the situation in the kitchen. Dawn even had a large smile on her face when she walked in on the frozen three, and the thick air around them hit the Key in the face like a Mac Truck.
Confused at what was going on, Dawn looked to her sister and asked, "Buffy?"
The single word echoed through the room, shattering the tense silence that they had built up around them as surely as the glass had shattered on the ground. Dylan drew in a sharp breath like she had been struck, her whole body recoiling in a safety defense maneuver. This drew Dawn's attention away from her sister to see what the cause of all the tension had been. Now the child had moved, and the surreal bubble that they had wandered into had popped, and reality, or some form of it, was trying to settle back in.
"Dylan," Dawn said in a small voice, really noticing the girl for the first time since she walked into the room.
The spell broken, the seven-year-old began to shake her head, slowly at first, then more feverishly. Her eyes were locked on Buffy as she stammered, "You're-you're dead." Frantically, she turned those wide eyes back to her father. "She's dead. We've been to her grave."
Spike blinked, his daughter's pleading pulling him back to the situation before him. "Dylan-"
"You said she was dead!" the child cried before turning back to Buffy, a few tears rolling down Dylan's cheeks. "You were dead."
Dawn looked at the two parents, then took a step towards the little girl. "Dylan-"
"Don't touch me!" she screamed, jerking away from her aunt like she had tried to burn her with fire.
"Dylan!" Spike reflexively snapped, not even realizing how harsh the word had sounded until he saw the hurt on top of the confusion flash through his daughter's eyes.
Shaking her blonde head again, Dylan's face contorted as if she were about to start bawling before she pushed past a still silent Buffy and ran up the stairs. Dawn took a step to follow, but Spike stopped her.
"I'll go," he told the young woman softly. "You take care of Buffy." With that he disappeared after the young girl, leaving the two other Summers women standing in the kitchen.
They stood there for what seemed forever, neither speaking. Dawn didn't know what she could say to her sister. She couldn't imagine how Buffy would feel once the shock wore off; which, by the way, maybe she should sit her down before it did and the slayer passed out.
"Maybe you should sit down," Dawn said, moving quickly to her sister's side and guiding her effortlessly onto one of the bar stools.
Buffy sighed heavily as she sat, her eyes seemingly locked on something in the corner of the room that was invisible to the Key. Then, blinking, the blonde woman turned to her sister and asked, "What've I missed?"
The college girl swallowed hard and licked her lips before answering, "A lot."
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Dylan lay across her unmade bed, clutching onto the pillow she was crying into. This was stupid; she shouldn't be as upset over her dad yelling at her like he had. He hadn't even really yelled at her, just snapped, but that tone had caused something inside of her to break and she couldn't hold back the tears any more. God, she really was a baby.
The door to her bedroom slid silently opened as he came inside. Dylan rolled over on her side, twisting her body away from him, hoping he'd pick up on that she didn't want to talk about this right now. Her father didn't say anything, just stood there watching her while she tried not to look like she was crying. She hated worse than anything for anyone to see her cry.
Drawing in a deep, unneeded breath, Spike pulled the door closed behind him, then walked over and sat down on the edge of Dylan's messy bed to where her curled up knees were right beside him. Taking notice that she was absolutely refusing to look at him or anything else besides the wall directly across from her, he reached down and brushed some of stray, curly blonde hair that was sticking to her face from her tears behind her ear.
She finally did roll over when he touched her, and looked up at her father with her large blue eyes that were filled with every emotion he knew possible. She didn't understand, as he thought she wouldn't. As smart as Dylan is, she still is only a child. He didn't understand everything that was going on, how in world could they expect her too?
A stifled hiccup/sob escaped from her throat, causing a rather warm smile to find its way on his face, trying to reassure her silently that it'll be alright. When he did this, she moved herself to where she was holding onto him in a tight hug, crying into his chest. He didn't say anything, just held her close to him until she cried herself out.
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Buffy stood in what had once been her living room, looking at the fireplace mantel that had photos of the new family that lived in the house. She felt like a stranger there, like she had just walked in off the street and disturbed the harmony that ran the household. Even with the few pictures of herself that stared back at her, it didn't feel like she belonged there.
She recognized one of them, of her and Dylan that her mother had taken during Thanksgiving. Now that she thought about, she thought her mother had said something about going to get an enlargement of it when she got them back last week. No, not last week, years ago. She would have to remember it's been years, not days.
Beside it were several pictures that had been taken after Buffy had…left. There was Dawn's graduation photo with her posing in her cap and gown, clutching tightly onto the rolled up piece of paper that she had received. Next to it was a picture of the three older kids on the beach, hanging on each other as they laughed at the camera. Then there was one of the whole gang at the Magic Box at what appeared to be Giles' 'retirement' party. But it was the last one that held her attention for the longest.
Buffy carefully lifted it off the mantle and just stared at it for a long time. It was a simple black and white, with two subjects fast asleep on the couch that sat under the large window. Dylan looked like she was three or maybe four-years-old, and she was curled up on her father who was spread out across the rest of the couch. Apparently it was taken before he decided to give the bleach a rest because the white was a sharp contrast to the dark furniture. A book he had been reading to the sleeping child was resting on his chest next to her head, apparently having worked on both of them. It captured a sweet moment of a family, her family but not.
"I called Mom," Dawn said, startling her older sister back to the real world. The slayer turned to her little sister, the picture still in hand, as the young woman continued to babble. "She's coming back from New York on the next flight. I feel kinda bad though, cause I mean, I couldn't tell her that her dead daughter was back from the dead over the phone, you know. So she's probably freaked beyond freaked that something bad happened. She's probably having a heart attack, and she'll definitely have one when she sees you."
"Yeah, you're probably right," Buffy said quietly, not having really heard her sister.
Dawn's eyes dropped slightly and she smiled when she saw what her sister had been looking at. "He hates that picture," she told the blonde woman, taking it from her. After looking at it for a moment, she placed it back on the mantel next to the others. "Says it makes him look like a 'bloody ponce' or 'poof' or something like that, I can't remember all those Britishy slang words he likes to use. I just thought it was cute, that's why I took the picture."
Buffy looked over at her sister in surprise. It was really good, like a professional had taken it. Of course she should have known someone close to them had to be the one to take it because Spike would have killed anyone who caught him on camera like that. "You took that?"
"Yeah," Dawn beamed proudly before looking down the line of pictures on the mantle. "Took most of these, except for the graduation one, of course. Giles was actually able to fumble enough with the camera to get that one."
"They're good," Buffy said simply as she scanned over them once more.
"Thanks."
"Dawn."
"Yeah?"
"Why's Mom in New York?"
"She was meeting with some guy there," a new voice answered, causing both the women to jump. They turned around towards it, and found Dylan standing in the doorway between the foyer and living room. Spike was directly behind her, and the child looked up at him to confirm what she had just said. "Right, Dad?"
Buffy drew her eyebrows together, causing a straight line to form between them. Her mother was in New York meeting some guy? Upon seeing the slayer's reaction to this, Spike clarified, "Art dealer."
"Oh," she said quietly, her eyes still on the little girl that had told her this.
Dylan looked as if she would run away again at any moment if it were not for her father holding on to her shoulders to keep her in place. Knowing this, Buffy approached the pair like she would an injured, scared animal, very carefully and very slowly, until she was standing directly in front of them. The child backed as far as she could into Spike until Buffy thought Dylan was just about ready to climb over him to get away from her, so the slayer stopped there still in the 'safe distance' range.
Buffy crouched down to where she was eye level with her daughter and said, "Hi."
Dylan eyed her for a moment in a combination of fascination, fright, and, Buffy would almost swear, disgust. "Hi," she echoed timidly.
"You know who I am?" the slayer asked, though she already knew the answer.
The seven-year-old answered with typical child language by shaking her head vigorously up and down, an action that would give any adult a nasty head rush.
"Kind of weird, huh? With me being here."
Dylan dropped her eyes so Buffy couldn't see how much this was affecting her as she shrugged one shoulder like it was nothing. A thought crossed the child's mind and when she lifted her eyes again, complete curiosity had taken over her face. "Why are you here?"
Spike sighed deeply from the question, like he had expected her to ask it but, at the same time, hoped that she wouldn't. But Buffy only bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing at obvious 'parent Spike' and his annoyance at his child acting just like him. Seems like the old curse that every parent gives their child at least once about having a child just like them had come true for the vampire.
Buffy killed the playful smile before she turned back to Dylan with a much gentler one. "I don't know."
The seven-year-old's face fell into an even form from the answer. "Oh," she said, causing Buffy to kick herself mentally for not coming up with a better answer for her. Turning her head upward towards Spike's, Dylan asked, "Can I go get dressed now? Grandpa Giles is probably waiting."
"Giles?" Spike repeated, having forgotten something that the child obviously remembered.
"Yeah, you know, the Watcher Diaries."
Comprehension washed over his face as he remembered what she was talking about. "I don't think he'll be interested in that today, pip."
Her face fell a little like she had just missed her one chance to get away before she made it go back to being neutral again. "Oh. Well, I guess I'll just be up in my room then." She dropped her head back down to where she was looking Buffy in the eye, and said with false sweetness, "Nice meeting you, Buffy."
Dylan then took off back up the stairs before anyone could protest. Slowly, the slayer rose up, her heart now firmly placed in the bottom of her stomach. There was no mistaking that tone. Dylan hated her. The way the child had spoken to her was the same way Buffy herself had spoken to the first girlfriend her father had taken her to meet after her parents' divorce. She didn't like her, she didn't want her there, and, hopefully if she's cold enough to her, she'll go away again.
As Buffy sighed, she felt a hand slide onto her shoulder from the side. Dawn was now standing beside her, giving her a supportive smile. "She just needs time," she reassured her.
"Yeah, love. She'll come 'round," Spike agreed.
"I hope so," Buffy said lowly, returning Dawn's smile first to her, then to Spike. A similar grin grew on his lips, lifting her spirits a bit. How'd he do that? How could he just look at her and make her feel as if everything would be alright? Whatever the reason, right now, she was glad that he could.
Dawn stood off to the side of the two, her eyes darting back and forth between the two like she was watching a tennis match. One thing no one could ever accuse Dawn of was not being able to pick up an obvious vibe between people.
"I'll just go upstairs and fix Mom's room up for Buffy," the young woman said. She started to turn away, but paused before she took off to follow the route her niece had taken. A wicked grin passed over her lips momentarily. This was something else no one could ever accuse her of, passing up an opportunity to use that vibe against the person, especially if it was her sister. "Unless you want to sleep somewhere else," she added innocently.
Buffy jerked her head towards Dawn, the slayer's eyes wide and a faint tint of red on her cheeks. Dawn glanced over at Spike and would swear that if vampires could blush, he would be right about then. Okay, now it's time to act stupid.
"I meant my old room," she lied, making herself sound like a dumb teenager. She was so going to make her squirm. "Where did you think I meant?"
"Oh, um, I just, ah, thought you meant, um," Buffy stuttered, her mind racing desperate for an answer that wasn't the truth.
Biting down on the inside of her lip to keep from smiling, Dawn decided that she would let the blonde off the hook…for now. "The couch?" she provided, fighting hard to keep from laughing at her sister.
"Yeah! The couch!" Buffy exclaimed a bit too excited. She caught herself and calmed herself quickly. "I mean, yeah, I thought you meant the couch."
A knowing look crossed her sister's face, and Buffy would swear she heard her go 'Uh, huh.' "Well, I'll just be upstairs then," Dawn said before taking off in that direction.
Buffy groaned loudly when she heard the bedroom door close. "Well, this sure has been one hell of a day." She leaned back to where she was nearly sitting on the end table beside the couch. "And to think. It's just starting," the blonde woman added with a sarcastic happiness.
"It'll be alright, love," he assured her, stepping closer to her.
Buffy couldn't help but snort, her sister and her remarks already having been forgotten in favor of the slayer feeling that she was finally able to speak freely. "Yeah, well, Dylan doesn't hate you."
"She doesn't hate you, Buffy. She just doesn't know…" he paused, kicking himself for almost saying that.
"She just doesn't know me," the slayer finished sadly for him.
He frowned from the truth of the statement. Dylan didn't know Buffy; she never got the chance to. Buffy had died when she was just a baby, and, no matter what they all told the child, she doesn't remember her being the great mum that she was. If she hadn't died…If he hadn't had let her die, none of this would have happened. This was all his fault. He was there, he could have stopped Eric, but he didn't. Now they're all miserable because of him.
Buffy looked up when he began to back away from her. He looked pasty, even for Spike, and had that 'I just realized something and it's bad' look on his face.
"Spike?"
He looked up at her, a surprised look on his face as if he couldn't believe she was actually still willing to talk to him. Concern grew on her face while she tried to decide exactly what he was thinking. She might not be able to read him like he could her, but even Xander could tell at this moment that something bad had just happened in the former bleach blond's mind. Well, maybe not bad for Xander, but probably really bad for the slayer.
"What's wrong?" she asked carefully.
"Nothin', pet," he lied, fighting to keep his voice as even as he could.
But if there was one thing that Spike could never lie about, it was his emotions. He wore them on his face just like he wore clothes on his body. And whatever it was he just realized, she could tell it wasn't going to be good for his and her relationship. That is, if they still had one. Right at the moment, Buffy didn't know if they did or not.
As he backed towards the kitchen, he glanced at the foyer. "Niblet's probably got Joyce's room ready for you. Why don't you head on up? I'll be downstairs if you need anything," he practically said in one word before turning around and heading down in the basement.
Buffy leaned against the small table, staring at where he had been only a moment before, not believing he had just left her there like that. Part of her wanted to chase after him, to make him tell her what was wrong, but she wouldn't. He had freaked over something and needed time, just like Dylan needed time, and Buffy didn't have the energy to speed things up at the moment.
Instead, she climbed the stairs to her mother's bedroom, went to bed, and cried herself to sleep over the life she missed.
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