***Sorry it took so long. Spike and Garrett talk a bit more and we get to see Dawn's reaction to seeing Spike again…
Part VIII
"You know," Garrett's words curled through the silence. The two men had talked amicably for the last ten minutes with Spike telling Garrett about his life in San Diego while the latter man spoke of his travails in San Francisco and subsequent migration to Sunnydale. It was as if, for a handful of minutes, the two men had forgotten that they both loved the same woman. It was as if they were just two guys, chatting about, getting to know one another. There was no animosity, no jealousy or envy, no anger to get in the way of their words. For a short time, they could almost be considered 'friends'.
Spike glanced up as Garrett's mellow voice permeated the silence. He watched as the bronze-skinned man twirled a silver dollar across the knuckles of his agile fingers, grayish eyes transfixed on the tumbling currency.
"If you were still a vampire, I would have killed you, you know?" Finally, Garrett spared him a glance and Spike detected no malice or anger in his eyes--just the resigned truth. "For what you did to her," he clarifies, quite unnecessarily since Spike knew the direction of his words.
Impressed by the absence of fear in the man's eyes or voice, Spike's face contorted into his trademark smirk and Garrett returned the gesture.
"You would've tried," he informed before inhaling deeply. The scent of lilac swam through the air, tumbling through him, filling the once un-dead vampire with a warmth he had not felt in a hundred and twenty years. Not since Dru had purged humanity from his veins, forever banished from the muted sensations of humanity, had Spike felt so completely at ease. Not since he had held his Cassandra, little girl that she was, in his lap, reading to her by the fire, had he felt even a sliver of acceptance. He remembered the luminescent shine of her blue eyes as he read to her. Cassandra. His baby sister, the only one who never laughed at his verses. The only one who ever loved him without preamble. The only one whose heart was his and his alone.
"You would've tried," he repeated, his words hollow, dead. Like I used to be, he thought and a tired smiled etched his features. The lids shut on his cerulean orbs, enveloping him in the darkness that was his home for a dozen decades. A darkness that had bred a killer, a demon that possessed the passions of humanity, intertwined with the proclivities of a monster. A monster that fed off fear and suffering, pain and blood, superiority and dominance. A darkness that housed no room for remorse or regret. A darkness whose greatest purpose was to shield him from the consequences of his actions, laying waste to guilt, leaving room for only a shrug of his shoulders. But that darkness was gone now, obliterated by a simple phrasing of words, words that, in his mind, had meant one thing but something totally different in his heart. Guess that's where old Lurky was lookin'.
Spike shook his head, willing away the images of the seemingly endless days and nights of torture that had been his trials. Though he had told Buffy something of them, proudly even, he didn't dare tell her of the worst ones—the 240 hours of reliving that moment in the bathroom, though with every passing hour, he had gotten closer to completing his assault. Halfway through the ten days, he had to watch, helplessly, as he took her over and over, her tears and blood mingling with his own fluids. Sometimes he ripped into her flesh with fangs, other times with blunt teeth, though never killing her, just adding to his own pleasure. It sickened him to watch (and feel his body) having her in every way. All the physical pains he had to endure were nothing compared to reliving that nightmare. He was surprised that his mind didn't shatter from guilt. Even now, he had nightmares about, sometimes during the day, her broken and bleeding body, ravaged by him, more vivid than any of the real images of people he had killed and he couldn't help but wonder whether or not he could do away with the guilt if he ever got to make love to her again…
"You there?" Garrett's voice slashed through the haze and Spike reeled himself from the bottomless pit of pain and anguish that had ensnared his waking thoughts.
"Yeah, mate," he said and sent a weary smile to the room's other occupant. Spike ran his tanned hands over his face and through his wispy brown locks, interlocking his fingers when his hands came to rest at the back of his neck. He expelled a shaky breath, the annoyance of being sucked into the familiar malaise of the past so quickly. But that was something he had lived with for the past two years and he doubted he would ever be rid of.
Garrett studied the man before him, somewhat confused of his own emotions. Never one to hate, Garrett had loathed the vampire Spike ever since Buffy had told him about Spike, though it had taken Xander to fill in the more--grimy--details. He had made a silent promise to Buffy to dust Spike if he ever showed up or, at the very least, tried. When Buffy had first told him of her intentions, Garrett had been incensed, though he had controlled himself admirably, resisting the urge to rant and rave, questioning her sanity (of course, the latter may have been his instinct for self-preservation but still…). He had listened and, in the end, despite her growing aloofness and desire to see the monster that had almost raped her, gave her his unconditional support. Still, he had wished for ten minutes alone with Spike so Garrett could punish him rightfully for his actions.
Now, as that same man--yes, man--sat not ten feet from him, Garrett could do nothing but feel a strange sort of kinship with Spike. The same pain and hurt that resounded within him was ever present within the former vampire, albeit magnified a hundred-fold.
Ex-vampire, Garrett mused and, for the tenth time since Spike and Buffy had returned, the Bank Manager wondered how Spike's new condition hadn't really surprised him. Oh, it had thrown him for a loop but he had recovered quickly, even throwing out a decently sardonic remark. He knew his face hadn't betrayed the momentary surprise he had felt seeing the sun brushing across Spike's back. Not only that, but he had been hurt by Buffy's lack of explanation though he understood her concern with Dawn and dismissed it. But one thing he couldn't dismiss was the understanding of the former 'Big Bad'. Though nothing had been said about Buffy, Garrett couldn't help but look at their conversation as a sort of non-alcoholic means of drowning their sorrows. Talking about each other's work-related experiences of the last two years eased the tension and hostility that permeated between them. It would never be gone, however, since both knew that the other had—and always would have—a special place in Buffy's heart.
"Why did you do it?" Garrett asked, his voice a mixture of disbelief and curiosity. Again, Spike needed no explanation to the topic, though the lack of malice in the other man's voice puzzled him.
"Don't know," he replied and, for the hundredth time in the last two days, he wished he hadn't set up a maximum cigarette quota for himself. Three a week just wasn't enough, especially considering the unexpected circumstances of the last twenty-four hours.
"Actually," he began after several moments of silence, "one of the first things I thought when I got back to my crypt was why I didn't do it." Spike noticed the slight hardening of the man's jaw and he was impressed by Garrett's ability to mask his feelings. Guess he's giving me the benefit of the doubt, Spike thought, almost disbelievingly.
"Why?"
"Gotta understand, mate, I was a vampire then. Hundred plus years of guiltless, remorseless actions under my belt. I was used to taking what I want, no questions asked, no worries about a nagging in my gut afterwards. Even with Dru, when I 'urt her, I felt bad when I did it, but gave it no mind after I apologized. But with Buffy…" his gaze shifted to the ceiling, "it was different. I felt bloody horrible, like I wanted to lie in a tub full of holy water, or sit in a sunny field, anything to get my mind off of what I had done. It was almost as bad as when she…" a lump formed in his throat and Spike trailed off, lost in thoughts of the past.
Garrett noted that this had been the second time that Buffy's…disappearance had been brought up (or was about to be brought up, in this case) and he knew there had been something Buffy had not told him. It hurt him somewhat that she hadn't confided in him about this, but he understood. There were some things that even the most honest of people kept from their significant other. Hell, he had his own fears and secrets he had refrained from telling her. Feelings that he'd deal with on his own.
He cast the thoughts aside and waited for Spike to compose himself. He watched as the sandy-haired man's face blanked into an emotionless mask, though his eyes still carried a battery of emotions firing from within.
"Anyway, it hadn't been the first time I'd felt bad about hurtin' her. Though, the other times I thought I was helpin' her. Turned out, I just 'urt her in one instance, failed her in the other." Garrett notice that, like his eyes, Spike's voice betrayed the emotionless front that he was obviously shooting for. The raven-haired man said nothing, only nodding in understanding.
"Thing was, nothin' I ever did was to hurt her intentionally," he paused, as their history ran rampant through his mind, "well," he re-phrased with a self-deprecating smile, "after I fell in love with her, that is. Point being, after that night, when I got to my crypt, I was lost, unsure of what I was." It was not lost on Spike that he was sharing with a stranger the same things he had expressed to Rachel and Buffy. Why he felt so comfortable sharing it with Garrett was a mystery but he had the suspicion that it was from the mutual sympathy between them about being in a difficult place in their lives.
"I never wanted to hurt her, contrary to my actions. I was fractured between the man I wanted to be for her…and the monster I couldn't be because of the chip." Spike smiled at Garrett's non-judgmental eyes and he couldn't help but think that, were circumstances different, the man could have been a very good friend.
"So," Garrett's voice injected itself into the vein of silence, "you found a way to become human."
Spike chuckled, and both were surprised in the sincerity of the sound. "Hardly, mate. Just goes to show you don't know me too well."
"What do you mean?"
"Good old Spike here never seems to break things down simplistically, 'cept, of course, if it's other people's feelings. The thing is, my first bit o' logic was to blame the chip. Halfway convinced myself that it was the reason I felt that way—buggerin' up my feelings, it was. So I left that same night, determined to get the bloody thing removed. So I did some diggin', found a demon that granted wishes and made a trip to good old Africa."
"Seems like a wasted trip," Garrett replied then held his hands up in peace on the dark look Spike granted him, "I mean, if you wanted to get her back."
"Not sure I'm followin' that train out the station, mate."
"Okay, so you wanted to get the chip out, or so you thought at first, right?" Spike nodded. "Well, if you wanted to get it out, I assume you wanted to be able to get revenge on her…" he trailed off, waiting for Spike to understand what he was saying.
Spike's eyebrows furrowed, unsure to where Garrett was heading. Did he know the chip didn't work on Buffy? Because it was quite clear she hadn't told him about her death—so how did she explain him being able to attack her in the bathroom? Well, Spike sure as hell wasn't going to explain, so Garrett would just have to formulate his own conclusions.
His mind resumed its thought as to what Garrett mentioned about getting revenge on her. Assuming that Garrett knew the chip didn't work on Buffy, Spike closed his eyes, bringing forth the conflicting thoughts he had had at the time. For a moment, he had indeed thought about attacking her, trying to kill her and the demon had the perfect plan; hurt her friends, to weaken her emotional state, thus distract her during the fight. An unconscious smile played at his lips as he deduced what Garrett had been getting at. There was no doubt in Spike's mind that the man would have made a formidable vampire.
Seeing that Spike 'got it', Garrett began again. "So, if it was revenge that you wanted, you could have taken it out on her friends, am I right?"
"That you are," Spike replied.
"Well, if it was revenge you were seeing, couldn't you have summoned one of those vengeance demons?"
"You really know how to think evilly," Spike quipped. Garrett smiled, knowing that Spike's comment was quite an impressive compliment from an ex-vampire.
"Well, being a computer programmer on the side calls for logical thinking around problems. Calling a vengeance demon to grant you a wish seemed to have been the most straightforward course of action."
"True," Spike conceded. "The only thing is that I wasn't half as convinced in my heart that revenge was what I wanted. My words and surface feelings may have told you otherwise but, in my heart, I knew I didn't wanna cause her anymore pain."
"So you, what? Had it in mind to turn human so you could have a soul?" Spike chuckled at the man's obviously thought out reasoning before answering.
"To tell you the truth, mate, being alive was the last thing I expected. I mean, yeah, I did go to get the soul, so I could be worthy of her. The little installation of working parts was just an added bonus." Spike refrained from calling himself human, knowing that he was anything but. Humans weren't able to twist the heads off of demons or kick through brick walls or heal a gunshot wound to the stomach in a few days. But he wasn't going to share that tidbit of info with Garrett, considering he had yet to inform Buffy of those particulars, though he had a feeling that she knew something was up.
"Okay, but that still doesn't answer why you just didn't go to a vengeance demon."
"Vengeance demons," Spike reiterated, tasting the word on his tongue. "See, the thing about those chits is that they are really particular as far as the vengeancy, or justice, thing goes. Has to be a warranted desire, or reason, for vengeance. In my case, there was none. To be honest, Buffy had more right to vengeance against me instead o' the other way 'round. Glad she didn't go that route, though. Wouldn't fancy havin' me wrinklies sittin' up in a jar on her mantelpiece." Both men laughed, however cautiously, at that image. No, it wasn't a comfortable thought in the least.
"So, why didn't you come back?" Garrett asked after a few minutes of quiet. "I mean, you got what you wanted—a soul to be worthy of her—so why didn't you come back?"
Spike sighed. What had started out as simple shoptalk had descended into an almost heart-to-heart, something the former vampire had not wanted. Running a hand through his curly locks, Spike faced the man in front of him, his blue eyes full of regret.
"Funny thing about getting the soul, mate—it only proved to me how unworthy I was of her. Spike, as a vampire wasn't worthy. Spike as a human wasn't worthy. I thought there was too much pain between us, most of it thanks to me, to have any semblance of a relationship. I knew Buffy wouldn't let me forget about what I had done seeing as I wasn't her precious Angel," Garrett flinched at the anger and resentment Spike flicked out the name with. Though he didn't know much about Angel, Xander had told him a little about the saga that was the Buffy-Angel story along with what he knew about the Spike-Angel hate wheel.
Spike forced the scowl that naturally accompanied his sire's name fade and he continued, "I knew that coming back would only bring on painful memories for her and I had hurt her enough to last the rest of her life," his eyes watered at the thought of the pain he had caused her. "I thought her life would be so much easier without me in it. I didn't think I'd ever be able to offer her a normal life." He nodded poignantly towards Garrett, "Looks like things worked out better for her."
Spike's words were not lost on Garrett and he could only nod back. That day at the Expresso Pump, when he had called Buffy out, was the first he had heard of Spike. Buffy told him quite a bit about their relationship, though Garrett had known she fuzzed up some of the details. It wasn't until he saw her fighting some demons in the graveyard that she spilled the details on being a slayer and, later, on Spike's true nature. Garrett wasn't sure if Buffy knew or was in denial but he had known then that she loved Spike. Part of him had been wary in starting a relationship with her for the simple fact of her bond with the vampire had seemed to have been unresolved and Garrett had known, through experience, that someone with unresolved feelings for an ex was not someone to be starting a relationship with—it could only end in pain for both parties. But he had put conventional wisdom aside and took a leap of faith and had been, for the most part, content with the last year and a half. But now, seeing Spike in the flesh, the love that was in his eyes for Buffy coupled with Buffy's distance over the last two months had Garrett doubting things more than ever. It didn't help looking into Spike's eyes, either. They shone with a love that Garrett had a hard time grasping, let alone feeling. And for the first time, he wondered if he was the right person to make Buffy happy.
"They've been up there awhile," Garrett said, changing the subject. Spike smiled, understanding the tactic and appreciating it. "I wonder what they're doing?"
"They're sisters, mate," Spike pointed out as if that explained it all. But Spike's thoughts weren't as confident as his words. They had turned from insecurity and pain thinking of Buffy to the anguish he had seen in his Bit's eyes when she saw him in the kitchen. The guilt and self-loathing written on her face was only surpassed by what he had seen in Buffy's eyes after he had attacked her. But whereas Buffy had forgiven him, Spike didn't know if Dawn would. For as much as Buffy went to him for comfort, she never depended on him or looked up to him like Dawn had. The youngest Summers' affection for him had extended well beyond a teenage crush. It was a sort of big brother/hero worship as well and when he had attacked Buffy—when he had left, he shattered everything that Dawn had felt for him. And even if he and Buffy, by the grace of God, got together, he didn't think things would ever be the same between him and his Niblet.
"She loves you, you know?" Garrett's words sliced through Spike's malaise and his blue eyes blinked in confusion.
"Who?" He asked warily.
"Dawn," Garrett replied with certainty.
Spike stared at the man in disbelief before he chuckled, shaking his head in resignation. "Not anymore, she doesn't," he responded, allowing the hopelessness of reacquainting himself with Dawn to finally sink in. The despair hung from his shoulders like a shroud, covering any signs of his earlier jubilance.
Garrett noticed the change in Spike's demeanor instantly and was amazed that the same person who had not given up on Buffy (at least subconsciously) had so easily conceded defeat where Dawn was concerned.
"It's easier that way, isn't it?" Garrett said offhandedly.
"Probably is. Least this way, she won't have to answer questions about her best friend's 'sexy' accent."
"I'm not talking about Dawn," Garrett cleared and pointed a finger at Spike, "I'm talking about you." Spike's eyes shot up and the blue fury burned into Garrett though he did nothing to avert the hard gaze. He forced his emotions and tenseness from his body and waited for Spike to respond.
"Who the bloody fuck do you think you are?" Spike demanded, his voice low but hard. His eyes narrowed into slits and his shoulders hunched as if he were preparing to pounce. Spike's posture was not lost on Garrett but the younger man held his ground firmly.
"Well, last time I checked my driver's license…" but he was cut off.
"I'd cut it with the sarcasm if I were you and tell me where the fuck do you get off sayin that?" Spike was pissed, not only by what Garrett had said but also for his own folly in believing that he and the man were starting to get along. "You think it doesn't hurt like a bloody stake in my chest every time I think about her? You don't think I hurt knowing that hugging me will be the last thing on her mind when she graduates this weekend? You don't think I wouldn't do anything, including giving up my bloody soul, to just hear her say the words 'I love you, Spike' like she did when I took care of her two years ago?" Garrett felt a pang in his chest when Spike's voice faltered but he stood firm.
"I can only imagine what it feels like, Spike," Garrett conceded, "the pain you must be feeling. But I do know one thing, though. That pain you are feeling is a far cry from what you'd feel if you talked to her and you heard the hurt and disappointment in her voice, wouldn't it?"
"Don't need to hear it," he said, leaning back into the chair, "I saw it in her eyes."
"That may be so but the words would hurt a lot more than what you saw in her eyes and you know it. You know what I think? I think you've lived with pain for so long, anything that takes you out of that comfort zone ache in your chest is too much."
"So I guess declaring my love to Buffy was too much, huh?"
"No," Garrett replied curtly. Forcing his tone neutral, he continued. "That was a risky thing you did when you first told her and it's even riskier now that you've come back to let her know. But Dawn is different. At least Buffy used to be your mortal enemy so the pain and or rebuke is somewhat expected. Well, at least it's not out of the blue. But Dawn, she was never like that with you, I bet. From what I understand, she's had a crush on you since day one and you've never really been in bad with her, am I right?" When Spike remained silent, Garrett continued. "You've been so many things to her. A crush. A hero. A best friend. You've been everything that's she's needed at the time she's needed it and to see her disappointed in you, to hear her say how much you hurt her is almost too much to even think about much less hear. And you think you can't handle it. And you know what? As long as you have that outlook, nothing will ever be right between you two again. Isn't the potential pain worth it when you get to see her look at you with that look of adoration and wonder again? To know that you'll always be in her heart, like she is in yours?"
Spike said nothing and instead took to studying his shoes. As much as he didn't want to face the truth, he knew Garrett was right. He would journey to Hell and back if he had too if it meant he could see Dawn smile at him like she used to. No, the pain couldn't be an excuse anymore. He had braved the trials with a stout heart, so why the change now? If he loved her like he knew he did, he would do everything in his power to win her trust and love back. She meant as much and, in some ways more, to him than Buffy did and he sure as hell wasn't going to blow his relationship with her just because he was afraid of what she would say to him.
Decision made, Spike leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He wanted to forget about everything—Buffy, Garrett, the ring, his soul. There was only one thing he wanted on his mind; Dawn. There was a lot of groveling he'd have to do to win her back, but that didn't scare him. Neither did the things he knew she'd say to him. The only thing that he wanted was to know the love of his Niblet again.
As he drifted into a light doze, he realized that that might not be too much to ask for after all.
***
As I hold Dawn's head gently in my lap, I try to block out the pain I feel listening to her heart wrenching sobs. It's not like I didn't expect this…well, that's not true. I so did not expect the pain to be so raw and I guess that's because she never really showed it these past two years. I mean, we got really close but there were still things we never talked about, Spike being numero uno on that list. Actually, Spike was about the only thing we didn't talk about, at least not after her breakdown a few months after he disappeared.
A sharp pang filters in my chest--right where the void his leaving had left in me. It still hurts, thinking about him leaving us, not coming back. He never even called or wrote to tell us if he was dust or not. Okay, so he's not a vampire anymore, but still. The point is that even though I told him earlier how bad it hurt me when he left, sharing the pain with someone equally as affected heightens the gash in my chest although it lessens it at the same time. Weird, I know but that's me--weird Buffy with the abnormal boyfriends of the pointed-tooth variety. Stop it, Buffy; it's not about me. Dawn needs me and I have to put my feelings on hold for her.
"Dawnie," I whisper and cup her lowered head between my hands. The tears are soft against the flesh of my palm but they burn me like the pain of my baby sister always has. Seeing her in such pain hurts me so much that I sometimes can't even form thoughts on it. But like so many other things, I can't let it affect me now—she's depending on my strength and I will give as much of it to her as I've got.
"Dawn look at me," I say firmly but not without sympathy and lift her chin from my lap so I can look into her eyes. The sight of those luminescent, tear-filled eyes staggers me and I forget what I was going to say for several seconds. Finally, breaking the haze, I steel my resolve while fighting through my own teary vision.
My hands move to her shoulders, coaxing her to sit on the bed and she complies absently as I can see it in her eyes that she's still not all there. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and lay the other hand on her thigh, patting it lightly. It takes a few moments before I think she's up to talking and I wait patiently, desperately trying to ignore the tingling at the base of my skull knowing that my ex-lover and pseudo-fiancé are downstairs, unsupervised. It's not like I don't trust them or anything cuz, hey, they are adults. They are grown men…who just happen to be in love with the same woman.
Oh, God. I can't believe I left them alone. Sigh. Well, at least I haven't heard anything breaking…
Several sniffles from Dawn let me know that she is done crying and I focus my attention back to my beautiful little sister.
"Hey," she says, offering me a weak smile.
"Hey, snot girl," I reply and she lowers her eyes, her smile growing just a fraction. "So, how are we feeling?" I ask and she snorts, very unladylike, I might add.
"Like my brains'll come out if I blow my nose."
"And may I say 'ewww' to the imagery." We both laugh at that, genuine laughs that belie the hurt we're both feeling.
"Well, you'd say the same thing if your head felt like this," she says, defending herself. I give her my trademark sisterly smirk that…Smirk? Smirk? Since when do I have a trademark smirk?
Ignoring my wandering thoughts, I turn a serious eye to her. "So, how are you feeling?" She lowers her eyes, the temporary mirth gone from her angelic features. When she speaks, her voice is low but I can still hear it clearly.
"It hurts so much." She looks up at me and those aquiline eyes of hers fill with tears again. "I didn't know anything could hurt this bad," she drops her eyes and I can tell she feels ashamed. "I'm pathetic, aren't I?"
I cup her cheek in my hand and make her look me in the eye again. "Dawn, listen to me; you are not pathetic in any way. Just because you're hurting so bad doesn't…" but I never finish as she shoots to her feet, anger in her eyes. But it's not directed at me and, when she speaks, I see that it's not directed at Spike, either.
"Aren't I?! My sister and mother died, Buffy, within months of one another and I'm here now, feeling worse than I did then because someone else left me. Somebody that wasn't even related to me. Hell, he wasn't even human! And here I am," she puts her hand to her chest, "feeling something in here so raw that I want to rip it out of me. How can I not be pathetic?" Her hands drop to her sides and it's obvious that she's fighting for control of her emotions. I stand up slowly and walk over to her. I take her hands in mine and look up into her eyes, offering her a sad smile.
"You feel guilty."
"What do you mean?"
"You feel guilty that Spike leaving hurt more than when Mom and I died," when she averts her eyes, she tells me everything I need to know. "Dawn," I coax and she looks down at me though she won't meet my eyes. "Don't feel guilty."
"Why shouldn't I?" Her voice is so soft and is filled with self-loathing.
"Dawnie, you can't help how you feel."
"I should. How can I feel worse that he left than when two people I loved so much died? What does that say about me?"
"That you loved him just as much as you loved me and Mom." Her mouth opens, ready to protest, but she closes it in defeat. Well, at least she's not denying it.
"Yeah," she throws out bitterly before taking her hands out of mine and walking over to the window. " 'Loved' being the operative word." Her forearms rest on the sill and she stares up at the sky. I follow her over there and mimic her pose. We stand there, silently for a few minutes, enjoying the brief reprieve and admiring the beauty that the world can be. Birds are chirping, soaring through the bright sky, into the green shrubs and trees that are their homes. The thick smell of freshly cut grass wafts through the window and I am reminded of simpler times, when we lived in LA. There was no slayer, no vampires or demons, no Scoobies and no Hellmouth. Just me, Mom, Dad and Dawnie. It seems like two lifetimes ago…wait, it is. Things were so much easier back then but—I don't know. I hear the distant purr of a cat (I wonder if he's stuck in a tree) and the cacophonous barking of dogs and I smile. Even in nature, chaos is a natural order, mixed with a perfect harmony that only Mother Earth can produce. It's funny how all the order and chaos mirror how my life is now. And I used to think, before Sunnydale, that I would die if I didn't have the right dress for Homecoming or the particular shade of lipstick. I miss those times, I really do. But you know what? As much as I complain about it, my life isn't too bad. Aside from Mom dying, there's not much I would change about it.
"You know," I say, never taking my eyes off the white clouds floating through the sky, "I still love Angel." I feel Dawn's eyes bore into me and I catch her mouth open. I can imagine what she'd look like head on but I don't give in to the curiosity.
"Umm, okay…" she replies, unsure of an appropriate response.
"I'm not gonna say that there still aren't some lingering feelings of hurt and resentment that I have, but that's not because of him. Not, really at least," I wave my hand in front of me, brushing a fly away. "What I mean is that, despite what he did—Angelus aside—leaving me, I still love him."
"He was your first love," Dawn supplies.
"Yeah," I admit, "but it's not just that. It's about loving someone, truly loving someone. It goes beyond crushes or infatuation and, to be honest, it doesn't have to be romantic, either."
"What do you mean?"
"When you love someone, Dawnie, really love someone, you will always love them. No matter what they say or do, a part of you will always care for them. Now that's not to say that you'll always have warm, fuzzy feelings about them or anything. Just that when you admit to yourself that you love someone, they will always have a place in your heart, no matter how bad they may turn out to be.
"And then," I continue after another prolonged silence, "there are those just make mistakes. They hurt you in ways you can't imagine, but they don't do it out of malice. They just screw up and hurt you in the process. Sometimes, that is worse than someone purposely hurting you."
"How so?"
"Because, at least when someone does something intentional to hurt you, you can always convince yourself that he or she didn't love you as much as you thought. And though that may not be the case, it's easier convincing yourself of that than the other side."
"The other side where someone tries to rape your sister and then leaves you when you need him most," I smile at Dawn's deadpanned expression and notice that a big part of the anger is gone from her voice. Still, if she's as stubborn as I am, there are still some arguments yet to be made. So, I try a different tactic.
"Dawn, remember the whole dancing demon thing?"
"Uh, almost-bride-to-be here," she replies with a wave of her hand.
"How many people do you think died during that whole disco inferno fiasco?" She wrinkles her eyebrows and offers me a blank look before hunching her shoulders in defeat.
"From what Giles found out, eight. Now, do you remember how it all got started?"
"Xander wanted to see if he and Anya would work…" she trails off and her eyes shine with understanding. Good, my point's getting across.
"Do you hate Xander for what he did? Or Willow?" A momentary frown lines her face as the mention of Willow but it quickly disappears. It took Dawn awhile to forgive Willow for almost turning her back into the Key and, even now, Dawn doesn't like talking about that.
"No," she concedes. I reach over to her and run my hand through her hair, getting lost in its silky texture. The look of innocence on her face reminds me of our childhood, when I would take her to the mall with my friends. She would always be so happy that 'Big Sis' was taking her. She was so innocent back then, unaware of the dangers of the world. Well, so was I, but Dawn was never fated to fight the forces of darkness, it just so happens that her sister is.
"Dawn," I say and watch as she turns teary eyes to me, "you have to forgive. You have to forgive Spike. Not just because he needs it, but because you do to." She stares at me as her eyes start to overflow with tears and, in seconds, she is in my arms once again.
"I don't want him to leave again," she cries into my shoulders, "I don't want him to leave."
"Me neither, Dawnie," I confess, fighting back tears, "me neither."
***
The sound of two pair of footsteps on the stairs startled Spike from his nap and he bolted to his feet. Garrett removed his arm from over his eyes and studied the obviously nervous man across from him.
Buffy came down first and Spike watched as her hair bounced on her shoulders, pleased that she had taken it out of the ponytail. She wore the same outfit as before though her makeup was a bit fresh. He scanned her eyes and noticed the slight puffiness around the edges, immediately knowing that she had been crying. His first instinct was to go to her and he took a step in her direction but stopped when Dawn came in behind her, bag in hand.
Spike stared at his Niblet with fright and awe. On the one hand, he didn't know if he could take another dose of her disgust and he was at first hesitant to make eye contact. But that thought quickly diminished as he took in completely the young woman that had taken her place.
To say she was beautiful was an understatement and Spike could only liken her to his imagination of what the radiating light from an angel would be like. Her brown hair was curled and most of it hung over her right shoulder. The dark blue shirt and jeans she wore clung to her curves and Spike was privy to how much she had filled out in two years. But it wasn't just her curves that he noticed.
Her posture was different, bolder. In it he could see that she had tapped into the power that was within her and he smiled at his eternal rose, for that's what she was to him. As long as he lived, the picture of Dawn as she stood now would never fade, never be replaced. Even if she spurned him, never to talk to him again, he would be at peace knowing that she had grown to be a capable woman with the power to make a difference in the world.
Dawn saw the fear and complete adoration in Spike's eyes and all she wanted to do was fling herself into his arms and forget the last two years. But she couldn't do that, Buffy had told her as much before they had come down. There was a lot to work out between the two of them and Buffy had advised her to take things slowly, not trying to overlook any feelings she had. Of course, she wondered if Buffy was following her own advice.
"Oh screw it," she muttered before dropping her bag and running over to her best friend. Spike was just able to right himself before they both tumbled to the floor. Strong arms and legs enveloped him and he was lost in the refreshing scent of raspberries and the fragrance that was Dawn. No words were spoken, only silent sobs as both Key and ex-vampire clung to one another as if their lives depended on it. They didn't care how they looked for the simple reason that, at that moment, they were to only two people in the world.
Garrett smiled at the surprising reunion, glad that Spike could relieve at least a modicum of the pain that was inside of him. His smile faded when he turned to Buffy. Tears shown in her hazel eyes as she took in her sister and former lover's embrace. In her gaze were happiness and bliss…and a longing. Garrett wasn't sure exactly what it was for, but it was there nonetheless. You know damn well what it's for, a part of him thought and that was indeed true. Not admitting it didn't change the fact that he knew she still cared for Spike and not in a just-friends sort of way and for the countless time, Garrett wondered if their hiatus had anything to do with Buffy's unresolved feelings for Spike. Don't have to wonder anymore, now do I?
Finally, after what felt like a mere instant and eternity alike, Dawn disentangled herself from Spike and he rested his hands on her hips. Both their eyes were filled with tears though only Dawn's had filtered down her cheeks. Spike tentatively raised a hand to her face, brushing his knuckles across her cheek. He smiled when she closed her eyes and leaned into the gesture, a sob catching at the back of his throat.
"Dawn," he managed with difficulty. On her name, Dawn opened her eyes and stared into the blue pools of love that gazed at her in wonder. For an instant, she thought everything would be back to normal, easy as pie but as she peered into Spike's eyes, she saw the scars of things she couldn't even fathom. She took a step back instinctively and her stomach knotted at the hurt that flashed across Spike's face.
Spike's chest burned when Dawn moved away but he hid it was well, all things considered. It had hurt him as much, if not more, than some of the things Buffy had said to him earlier. And like Buffy, Dawn had a right to be pissed, if not totally disgusted with him. If she never wanted to see him again, it wouldn't be too great a punishment…
His thoughts were interrupted as an open hand collided with his cheek and his head rocked at the slap.
"Dawnie," Buffy said and started for the two until Spike stopped her with a glance. She nodded, understanding that this was what they both needed.
"You left," Dawn said and Buffy noticed that only a sliver of contempt from earlier made it into her tone.
"Dawn," he began again before her open hand smacked him in the face for the second time. He lowered his eyes, not ready to see the hatred from her eyes for a second time. The tears he had forced at bay sixty seconds ago now slid freely down his angular cheeks to his black shirt that suckled at the moisture. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to die. No torture could ever recreate the pain that threatened to erupt from his breast and he could imagine that this was what hell felt like.
His shoulders began to shake and he didn't feel the strong arms encircle him in a protective embrace. All he knew was that he was safe from the torture in these loving arms and, with that, Spike melted into Dawn.
As she held him, the young woman bit her lip in disgust at what she had done, though the anger demanded release at that moment. The weight of it had been lifted from her heart, though a lot of pain remained. But that, too, would disappear after she and Spike truly talked. They had time to do that because, despite a list of insecurities, she knew he would never leave her again. Even if he wasn't whispering it over and over into her ear, she knew he would always stay with them. He had to. He was as much a part of her family as Buffy and, in some ways, even more so. He was the one she could always count on, the one who never talked down to her. He had been her rock when Buffy had died, instilling her to live more than Buffy's last words to her ever could. He had been the only constant in her life then, and to have him gone for so long without a word? Like she had told Buffy, Dawn never realized something could hurt so badly. But as bad as it hurt, it would be better now. Spike would make it better.
He always did.