Catastrophe

by

Princess McPhee

Disclaimer: I don't claim. Not mine. Bow to Joss Whedon.

Author's Note: Feedback may decide whether I finish this, so please tell me if you loved it, hated it, or somewhere in between!

Summary: An AU version of the events after 'The Weight of the World.'

Rating: PG, so far.

Spike was living out of an abandoned building only blocks from Angel's hotel, trying to figure out his own head at the same time that the Summers' sisters were pondering it. Only for him, it was a lot more difficult to deal with all the feelings than it was for Buffy or Dawn. They wanted him back. It was that clear. But Spike wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

He had more than a few good reasons. Dawn was getting attached to him, something no one should do to a vampire. She was also relatively isolated from her own peers by her physical inabilities at the moment, and seemed to want to spend more and more time with him. Spike loved it, but it wasn't good for her. And if he went back, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stay away from her enough for her to form healthy attachments.

Buffy was another reason, though by different causes. Spike really hadn't a clue what to do with the section of his head labeled 'Feelings for the Slayer' because right now they were such a jumble he thought if he tried to pull one out to look at it, he'd get them all. So he locked them in the back of his head, trying to focus on the facts. Fact one: the Slayer would never allow herself to be with him, no matter what she felt. He was soulless, and a vampire, the very thing she'd devoted her life to wiping off the face of the earth. Fact two: there was undeniably something between them. Chemistry, love, whatever you wanted to call it, the air sparkled when they were together. Fact three: this was all moot if Buffy didn't see it, and/or didn't care.

And that was why Spike was sitting on the floor in a barren room, wiping the cobwebs from his face every time they got too annoying, when he could be watching cable television from his grand-sire's poofy couch.

That night, the way that Buffy didn't look upset, or sad, or even really very confused when she left for her room, that was what had finally set off the bells in Spike's head. Buffy hadn't looked any of those things because she wasn't surprised by his behavior. And that realization had dug deeply into the vampire. She wasn't supposed to be used to his asinine behavior, he was supposed to curb it because he loved her!

So, when everyone had gone to bed two days before, which had taken until five-freakin'-am, Spike had left the hotel without notice, without thought, and without any plan. He just knew he needed to sort out his head, figure out what made him behave in such a manner around the Slayer.

And this was where that bright supposition had gotten him.

When Buffy and Angel showed up the next night, Spike was both incredibly relieved and very disturbed. Relieved because it meant they cared enough to go out and look for him, but distraught because he wasn't sure he'd wanted to be found yet. And of course, he wasn't as relieved as he could have been, because Dawn could have easily whined long enough that the Slayer and his grand-sire were forced to look for him. They weren't necessarily here because they wanted to be.

Buffy had entered the room in a very theatrical way, the same way she'd always treated life. Spike had been upset over the loss of that sparkle and good humor when she'd lost her friends, but it seemed to be coming back. She would always mourn for her friends and co-workers-of-a-sort, but life went on. Buffy's, Dawn's, Xander's, and Anya's, at least.

"Where are you, Spike?" She'd called into the building, wrinkling her nose and pushing aside a cobweb. "I really don't want to come in there after you!"

At least she hadn't sounded mad, the younger vampire remembered. Rising slowly, he'd dusted off his pants, twined around the worst of the spiderwebs, and headed for the door, stopping about ten feet short of his search party. "'Ello, Slayer."

Buffy had cocked her head in that cute way she did, leaning on the walker and still managing to look confident. "You look like hell."

He'd smirked. "Nice to see you, too."

"You were the one that ran." Buffy's voice had been flat, with absolutely not emotion. Listening to it had given the vampire both hope and pain, because he had not a clue what she was thinking.

He'd shrugged. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Why'd you do it?"

He'd shrugged again. "Needed to clear my head out, and all that crap. Din'na think you'd find me so fast."

Angel, who had been both silent and still as a status up till that point, Spike remembered, tapped his nose. Spike had nodding, understanding. "Ah. The old, 'Use my grand-sire like a bloodhound' technique. See it took you a couple 'o days. Would'a been faster if you couldn't gotten Dru here, you know." He'd said all of this with an air of just stating facts.

Buffy had replied to him in exactly the same tone. "Probably. But nobody knows where she is, and she's kind of insane, so it complicates matters a bit."

Spike had shrugged, dragged a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, blowing smoke towards the open door. "Guess so."

The building had fallen silent after that. Three blank expressions had canvassed their faces, Spike knew. They had lived so long, he and Angel, and they had all seen so much, that they'd had to learn to be masters of their emotions. If not inwardly, then at least, the ones they were displaying. That particular show of nothing had not been hard for any of them to pull off. Sadly, they were all too used to it.

Buffy had shrugged then, throwing out her arms in questioning. "So, are you coming back, then?"

"Maybe."

"Can I take a phone number and get back to you? I really don't have time to play this game all night, Spike." There had been more than a sarcastic undertone in her voice, and Spike had known he and the Slayer were back several squares. He'd steeled himself. Well, running off might not have been the best thing to do for him and Buffy's relationship, whatever the hell it consisted of, but it was good for the Little Bit. He had to remember that.

Now, a day after that conversation, Spike wasn't so sure he was doing the right thing anymore. He missed Dawn. He missed Angel's cable TV, and the cheerleader's ability to exchange quips with him at a rate nobody else had ever mastered. He missed Buffy's requesting his help instead of his grand-sire's, and the rush of warmth that went over him when she did that. He missed sleeping in a bed, and he missed waking up and not having to knock the world's biggest spiders off of his lap. Spike wasn't afraid of the spiders he shared his abandoned building with, but they were a little creepy. And they tickled.

So he went back to the hotel.

The first thing that Spike saw when he entered the lobby silently and looked around, was a shrieking Dawn, propelling herself towards him as fast as she could in the wheelchair. Spike met her halfway, holding his hands up in a universal gesture of caution. "Hey, bit, slow down! Don't wanna crash the chair, now do you?"

Dawn paid no heed, as he'd known she wouldn't, and didn't stop until she was directly in front of him. Bending down, he let her throw her arms around his neck and pull him into her embrace, realizing how much he'd really missed her.

When she let go, though, the hurt look in her eyes nearly broke his heart. "Why did you leave, Spike?" She asked. "I'm sorry about the truth or dare game, I really am! I didn't mean to make you upset, I just wanted you and Buffy to start talking!"

Spike shook his head. "Oh, platelet, I didn't leave 'cause of that game." He reached down and hugged her again, quickly. "I din'na mean for you t' think that." He looked guiltily down at his feet.

"Well, why did you leave, then?"

He shook his head again, still looking at the ground. "Not really sure how to explain, pet."
"Was it something else we did? 'Cause I know Buffy really missed you! And I missed you!" Pause. "And don't ever do that again!"

Spike smiled and caught her eye reluctantly this time. "Got a bit of that slayer attitude in you, I see. Then again, I always knew that." He grinned as Dawn put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Kinda hard to miss. You both have this incredible tendency to try and tell me what to do."

Dawn's glare faltered, and she looked childlike again in an instant. "Was that... why you left?"
Spike's face went serious instantly. "No! Bloody hell, bit, it wasn't anything you did! I love you. You didn't do anything wrong." He stared at her, trying to will his feelings into the teenager's brain. God, this made him feel guilty. He hadn't realized that, by leaving, he was letting Dawn blame herself for it. He hadn't meant to hurt her. He'd been trying to protect her from him. But how to explain that to an injured, emotionally fragile fourteen-year-old that had just lost her mother and several close friends?

He knelt down, so that he was fairly level with Dawn in the wheelchair. "Pet... I'm a vampire. And vampires... we aren't supposed to care about people. Aren't supposed t' think about you as anything but food." He looked away from her intense gaze, hanging onto his every word. "But then, I've always been a bit of a defective bloodsucker."

Dawn didn't say anything, seeming to understand his need to get this out. Spike continued. "That's not the point, though. I love you, and I'll never hurt you, but I'm just not good for you! You're fourteen, you shouldn't have to think about things like vampires and demons! You should be chatting with some mates, in the sun, gossipin' about whatever it is you gossip about."

Dawn's expression didn't reflect anything as she spoke. "Spike, how many times have you saved my life?"

"That ain't the point, bit-"

"Just answer the question."

He shrugged. "Dunno. Five or six."

"And Buffy's?"

"A bunch."

"And how many times did you try to kill Buffy?"

He looked away at that. "Three times."

"And me?"

"Never."

Dawn forced him to look at her. "Then I'd say, you're pretty good for us, aren't you? Buffy might disagree about the overall effect on her safety, but I think you're good for me."

"Pet, it's not about whether you're safe with me or not. You've always been safe with me. It's about what you should and shouldn't have to deal with."

"So, if you leave, I'm just going to be normal again? I won't have grown up on a hellmouth, and Willow and Tara and Giles and Mom will all be alive again and Buffy won't be the Slayer, all if you leave me?" Dawn's tone was clearly confrontational, trying to get him to slip up and say something that she could pounce on.

Spike didn't answer. It wasn't because he didn't want to. It was because he couldn't, for the life of him, think of a way to argue with that.

The platinum-blond vampire was still marveling at his own stupidity, looking down at the Slayer's little sister and shaking his head, when the aforementioned Slayer appeared in the doorway to hers and her sister's room. She stood on her own now, hand braced against the doorframe, but looking pretty steady. Wordlessly, she opened her arms, and Spike went towards her, grabbing her in a hug, that, though short-lived, held the kind of comfort the vampire had been aching to receive from her for the past year.

He savored it more because he knew that the Slayer was allowing this little weakness only out of the pain of the days he'd been missing, and would soon clam up. But it only made it a little more special to him, knowing that these pent-up feelings did indeed exist, and he smiled into the empty room over her shoulder.

When he pulled away, he looked her from top to bottom, and let a small smile creep over his face. "On your feet again, huh? Looks good on you." Buffy smiled slightly, and nodded.

"Yeah. Feels good, too." Her voice was uncharacteristically soft.

There they stood, Slayer and vampire, just staring at each other for a few long moments. Then Dawn broke in.

"So, are you back to stay?"

Turning slowly, Spike offered Buffy his arm. She took it gratefully, and came to stand next to him, leaning on his small but lithe body for support. "I don't know, pet. I still don't think that it's healthy for you to grow up with so many demons around."

Dawn's lower lip trembled a little, and Spike realized for the first time how much this was really upsetting her, the idea that he might not be back to stay. But she reined in her feelings and nodded sagely, even with tears glistening in her eyes, threatening to fall. "Okay."

Exchanging a glance with the Slayer, Spike left her side, confident that she was alright on her own. Crouching down by Dawn, he forced her to look him in the eye. "Oh, niblet, I din'na mean to upset you." He stroked her cheek in affection. "How 'bout this. I'll stay- on a few conditions."

Hope shining in her eyes, Dawn looked up. "What conditions?" She asked tentatively.

"When you can get around again, you have to start taking some classes. Be around some people your own age."

Dawn nodded without hesitation. "Okay."

Spike raised his eyebrows, questioning her again. "Okay?"

"Okay." She smiled. "Then you'll stay?"

"Then I'll stay." He smiled back at her.

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