Summary:       The gang is told the sitch.  Faith gets some news.  The true evil is revealed. 

Disclaimer:    Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own everything.  But I wouldn't mind leasing Spike from them for a couple of weeks :)

Feedback:     As always, appreciated.

Seeing Spike Through Buffy's Eyes

Chapter 19 – And Things Get Worse

Telling everyone about the spell the monks' cast wasn't as difficult as Buffy thought it was going to be.  Spike had done most of the explaining, making sure Dawn was firmly seated on the couch close to her sister before he began.  The story he told was a mix of where he had been, what he had been doing, his run in with Giles and the research about the Key.  Dawn had been silent through it all.  While the other Scoobies fired questions at the vampire, Dawn sat next to Buffy in stone-silence, a god-awful shade of grey covering her face.  Once everyone was brought up to speed and all the questions that could be answered were answered, it was decided that Spike and the others would handle patrol; Buffy would stay home with Dawn.

It was an eerie two hours of silence.  Dawn let her sister take her upstairs.  She let Buffy help her get ready for bed.  She even let Buffy tuck her in, something that hadn't happened since both girls were in grade school.  But Dawn wouldn't talk.  Buffy tried to drawl her out, tried to get her younger sister to open up, but Dawn wouldn't say a word.  In the end, the concerned Slayer could do nothing more than tuck Dawn's hair behind her ear, brush a kiss across her forehead, and tell her she loved her.  Then she had gone into her own room to wait for Spike to return. 

It wasn't until hours later that Dawn finally broke out of her coma-like state.  She quietly opened the door to Buffy's room, not even bothering to knock.  Since neither Slayer nor vampire could sleep, thoughts of the teenage girl they both loved keeping them awake, they weren't surprised by the nighttime interruption.  Buffy sat up slightly in bed.  "Dawnie?  Did you have a bad dream?"  The expression on Dawn's face was one of pure agony. 

Dawn briefly shook her head.  "I couldn't sleep."  Her voice was weak, sounding like it was coming from miles away.  "Can I stay with you tonight?"

Buffy thought her heart would break.  "Of course, you can stay with us.  Come here."  Buffy lifted the covers of the quilt in invitation.  Somehow, Spike had known this would happen.  Buffy was grateful he had insisted she wear her sushi pyjamas to bed; he his jeans.  Dawn quickly made herself comfortable in the empty space next to Buffy.  The Slayer wrapped her arms around her little sister, silently giving her all her support.   

Spike decided that three in Buffy's bed was a bit much.  Besides, Buffy and Dawn needed the time alone.  He would be there for them in the morning.  Spike climbed out the opposite side of the bed.  "I'll be on the couch if either of you need me."

Spike hadn't taken two steps when Dawn stopped him.  "No!"  She almost yelled, her voice filled with panic.  "I mean… please Spike, don't leave.  I, I need you here too.  Please." 

Spike could see the tears forming in her eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.  Summers' tears always did him in.  "Alright, Nibblet.  Toss me a pillow and I'll sleep on the floor, right next to you.  Will that be okay?" 

Dawn nodded her agreement.  Once Spike was settled, she began to talk.  "Are you sure this spell Giles found is going to work?"

Buffy tightened her arms around her sister.  "If Giles says he has the answer, we have to believe him, Dawnie.  He's never lied to us before, has he?" 

A small shutter ran through the younger Summers.  "No.  Giles wouldn't lie to us.  But I don't understand where he's going to find a soul.  I mean, we need a soul right?  Spike, said the ritual requires a soul.  How do we find a soul?"

Buffy waited for Spike to answer Dawn's questions.  She had to admit, that particular point had been prickling at her too.  Where were they going to find the soul they need to complete the spell?  When it became apparent that Spike wasn't going to cough up that bit of information, Buffy made an attempt to answer Dawn herself.  "Dawnie, it's Giles.  He'll find it.  Actually, when I spoke to him earlier, he seemed more worried about finding the Cup of Souls than any pesky soul."  Buffy knew the minute the words were out of her mouth, that the last sentence had been a mistake.  Dawn stiffened next to her.  "Not that finding the Cup will be a problem.  Giles said that Spike's friend Anthony can find anything."

Spike finally decided to involve himself in the conversation.  "Yeah, Nibblet.  Tony could find where Jimmy Hoffa was buried if he put his mind to it.  He's a wiz at stuff like this.  He already has a general idea of where to look.  It's just a matter of contacting some people and demons he knows.  Not to worry.  Giles and Tony will find the Cup.  Then we all do the ritual thing.  It'll take less time than it does for you and your sis to get ready to go out at night.  I promise."  Spike was lying on the floor, but he lifted his arm up onto the mattress.  Dawn quickly grabbed his hand in her own.  "And I'm back to protect you.  I'm sorry I cut out before.  A bloody wanker, I was.  I should know a Summers' temper tantrum when I see one.  I ignore them from the Slayer; I should have ignored you too."

Dawn laughed, and it was the most wonderful noise Buffy had ever heard.  They'd get through this together, like a family.  "I shouldn't have blamed you for – "

Spike interrupted her.  "You already apologized for that, Nibblet.  Its done and over with.  Were mates again.  Not to worry."  Spike squeezed the female hand that held his own for emphasis.  "Now, let's get some sleep.  Your sister kept me awake all night last night.  Didn't even get a bleedin' nap today.  AND I had to put up with Harris." 

Dawn scrunched her nose and stuck out her tongue.  "Spike, I'm laying in this bed.  Please don't make me think about what the two of you have done in it.  I'll be scarred for life."

Spike snorted.  "Then I guess it's a good thing I helped your sis change the sheets." 

Spike was promptly hit in the head by a big, fluffy pillow.

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While the occupants of the Summers' house finally fell asleep, another Slayer lay wide awake in her cell in a prison just outside of LA.  For her too, it had been a busy day.   

The lawyers that Spike had hired (and neglected to tell Giles about) to review Faith's file had been to visit her earlier that day.  The conversation was a blur, mostly because it consisted of legal mumbo-jumbo Faith would never understand, but she had latched on to the important part.  They thought they had found a reason to appeal her case. 

Faith knew she was responsible for what happened four years ago.  It was the reason she had stood in the courtroom pleading guilty to all charges.  The reason she hadn't broken out of this prison that wasn't built to hold a Slayer.  A part of her knew it wasn't right to have a chance at being released because a couple of beat cops had screwed up evidence, and an overworked assistant district attorney hadn't been at his best due to enormous case load, and the guy from the public defender's office had screwed up her limited defense.  But it was a shot, and she was going to take it.

The lawyers said they were going to call Mr Summers, aka Spike, on Monday, to keep him informed of the new development, then they were going to file the appropriate paperwork with the courts.  They had come to Faith first, because even though Mr Summers was paying the bills, she was their client.               

Faith was numb from head to toe.  A chance.  That's all she needed, all she wanted.  Just a chance.  A chance to make something of her life.  A chance to make up for all the pain she had caused.  A chance to be the type of person Buffy was.  Someone you ran to for help in a crisis.  Not the person you looked at wondering if they were the cause of it. 

Faith knew it wasn't going to be easy.  Mending fences wasn't her strong suit, but she had learned some things in prison.  One of them being the fact that no matter how screwed up she thought her life was, this wasn't the place where she wanted to spend the rest of it. 

She remembered being jazzed when she first learned she had been called.  The kid that everyone, including her parents, thought would never amount to anything, was The Chosen One.  The trouble-maker, the punk, the juvenile delinquent was the Slayer.  She had seen it as her way out of hell.  But she'd never left hell; she had just changed the scenery. 

She could kill all the demons in the world, accept for the ones that lived inside herself.  She needed help, and she knew it.  And if help came in the form of a chipped vampire and a job waiting tables in a bar in New Orleans, she was going to take it.  She had given up being the pissed-off loner.  She wasn't even sure she wanted to fight demons anymore.  Maybe what she wanted was a nice quiet life.  Something that would keep her off the Council's radar, because the last thing she wanted was to trade one prison cell for another.  She needed to find answers for all the questions in her life, but she had time.  Right now, all she needed to do was concentrate on getting out. 

Faith rolled over in her narrow bed.  And for the first time, in a very long time, she prayed.        

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And in England, Quentin Travers was getting the latest report on the Slayer, her 'boyfriend', and the rest of her group.  Ruppert Giles was an imbecile if he thought the Quentin had been satisfied with his explanation and dismissal of the young girl who was the Key.  The threat of the hell-god might be gone, but the Key itself was still a powerful force that needed to be controlled.  And the Slayer and her Watcher were hiding it from him.  Most days, the girl was more trouble than she was worth.  "You are doing a splendid job.  Email the written report to me this evening.  I'll look over it and telephone your superior in the morning.  He will forward it to our contact in Washington after our conversation."

The Head of the Watcher's Council ran his hand over the artifact sitting on his desk as he hung up the receiver.  It had taken a pretty penny to acquire the Cup of Souls, but it was worth all the money in the Council's coffers.  Whatever reason Ruppert had for wanting the relic had to be tied to the Slayer.  The Watcher's recent encounter with William the Bloody and the vampire's re-emergence in Sunnydale, both pointed to that one truth.  Quentin was sure of it.  Sooner or later, Ruppert would discover who was in possession of the Cup, and when he did, the Slayer would have no choice but to contact the Council.  But unlike their last meeting, this time Quentin would have power over the Slayer; he would be in control. 

---TBC