Part IX: Hyperion Hotel / Part 3

"Spike? Are you awake?"

It was the dream again, the one he'd almost forgotten now, but the sound of her voice brought it back. Cold cracked linoleum against his cheek and the smell of warm blood, her hand touching his face.

"Spike, wake up. It's me. Dawn."

And then she was solid, perched on the very edge of his reality, narrow shoulders tight with nervous fear. The long dark hair was just as he'd imagined, thick and glossy brown as a chestnut, pinned back at the sides with something pink. She was still a child, her skin could have told him that much, still the soft milk-rose hue on her, but there was an weariness there too that didn't match up exactly. The eyes staring down at him were huge, green and hazel, soft, solemn expression echoing the pretense of maturity, but when she saw he was awake it dropped away and she sighed.

"God, I thought maybe you were..."

Her gaze flicked to his apologetically and in that one look he got it all, everything he needed to know about who they were to each other. Friends. Confidants. Allies. Their own support system. Pushing himself up on one elbow, he grimaced and a grin broke at the corners of her too-wide mouth,

"Should have remembered. You always did sleep like a corpse."

She leaned forward, one hand slightly out, and seemed about to help him straighten up but then stopped, moved back an inch or so. He struggled weakly with the pillows, frowning, before realising why she'd hesitated. She was wearing surgical gloves.

"Those regulation?"

Following his look, she plucked at her hands awkwardly.

"Willow wouldn't let me in otherwise. She said you're...like really allergic."

Something faltered behind her eyes, and he realised she obviously hadn't been told everything; the reason for Wesley's late night visit, the real cause of his current condition. Clearing his throat, he eyed her cautiously, before nodding his head toward the door.

"She out there is she?"

"Willow? No she...they went to go meet Giles at the airport."

"Buffy too?"

A small nod, and then a drop of the eyes again, like she was guessing at something.

"I think they're going to find some friend of his, someone he thinks might be able to...help."

"'nother demon?"

A thin smile,

"No, just a...someone magic I think."

He grunted, shook his head a little.

"Magic..."

She curled her lip,

"Yeah, 'never the best option' right? I know you've never really been big on the whole hocus..."

Her sentence broke off, hung in mid air and she frowned at him, curiously.

"It's weird. Some things about you are the same."

"Wouldn't know."

She nodded, still frowning,

"No. But they are. You still talk the same. You look the same," she quirked an eyebrow at his hair, "Although I've never seen your roots before, that's new."

A hand drifted out towards him and he watched, remembering even as the odd resemblance struck him, that of course Dawn was really Buffy's sister not his. The hand dropped back into her lap.

"But you smell funny." she wrinkled her nose, "Not quite Spike."

"Different?"

"You used to smell like whisky and cigarettes," hesitated, "But not like ick...bad smell..."

She flushed slightly,

"Sometimes you smelled like earth."

"Earth? Like...dirt?"

Shrugged,

"More like...houseplant soil."

"Houseplant?"

A bright flash of mischief lit her face and she grinned,

"Although there was this one time when you smelt really strongly of violets for almost a whole week." she lowered her eyebrows, "I didn't like to ask."

He laughed, short and unexpected and her smile softened.

"You laugh the same."

Their eyes locked for a long moment and he could read everything in hers, thought maybe he could reclaim his whole life from what he could see there, all he needed to know about himself, about the sort of person he was. This girl knew him, knew him better than maybe anyone, understood what went on inside and out. He had no idea what they'd shared in the past, but he knew it had to have been something momentous, something complex to have brought them so close.

"Dawn?"

She nodded, seeming ready for the question even before he'd asked it.

"Were we always friends, you and me?"

Maybe not the question she was expecting after all. Her gaze dropped to her hands again and, pulling at the tip of one of her rubber fingers, she answered carefully.

"Not always, no."

She frowned,

"A few years ago, after Mom and...we were together a lot. I think maybe I was the only other person you could stand to be around. Everyone else was just...about being brave, you know? Pretending like nothing ever happened. You weren't like that."

"Not brave?"

A small smile at the memory,

"You were just...different. Like you weren't afraid to be sad. That's all."

There was so much he wanted to ask her, questions he knew she had to have the answers to, but before he could formulate anything she asked one of her own.

"What's happening to you?"

Letting herself drop down on her side on the bed, she rested her back against his knees, stared at the wall.

"No one will tell me."

The top of her head was motionless, arms pulled up tight against her chest.

"Are you dying?"

Something told him that she expected honesty, that she relied on it. Apparently, he had always been straight with her. He drew a breath.

"That's what they say."

A slight stiffening of her shoulders, then;

"Why?"

The need to touch her, smooth back her hair, was strong but he fought it.

"Something went wrong I reckon. Magic stuff. And now it's making me ill."

She started to speak, hesitated,

"Does it hurt?"

"Nope." he pushed at her with a toe, "Not any more. Just when they touched me, the...Willow and then your sis. Felt like my head was on fire."

Fingers moved up to grip her own upper arms, holding herself she shivered slightly. It was cool in the room but she felt warm enough, curled tight on the bed. His hand hovered, touched the air millimeters from her small, narrow back, before dropping silently back to the coverlet. She swallowed and turned her face towards him. Grave eyes, full of shadows that were ten years too old for her face.

"Maybe this friend of Giles'...maybe he'll know right away what's wrong. Buffy said not to worry."

"She look like she believe it?"

The girl's expression wavered uncertainly, before she nodded.

"She looked...determined."

"Guess I'm safe then."

The ghost of a smile echoed his own, pale and hopeful. Resting her head on his knees, she took hold of one of his feet through the covers.

"Buffy has some cards in her room. You want to play until they get back?"

He nodded, tried not to let her see how that touched him, tugged at some deep part of him, making him want to protect her, never let her out of his sight again. Getting up she started towards the door before turning back to him.

"Spike, I wanted to..."

She stopped, realising as she started to speak that he had no context for what she was about to say. That apologies and explanations were moot. Pushing her hair away from her face, she looked down at her feet. Tried to look at him.

"I never told you before, but you...you're important. To me I mean. You're...family. Just as much as Willow and Xander and Giles and..."

She dropped her gaze, eyes shining.

"I didn't tell you. And then, when you were gone I didn't know if you knew. I should have said before, but there wasn't...there never seemed to be the right time...you know?"

"Maybe there never is a right time, till it's too late."

Nodding she held his eyes for a second, before turning away.

"I'll go get the cards."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was late afternoon when the sound of voices from downstairs alerted them both to Buffy's return. Glancing at him, Dawn went to lay her cards down flat on the coverlet, before hesitating and fanning them out again. Her expression was calm, no trace of the nervousness he was feeling, and he wondered at her again. Amazed that such a young kid could posses such a reserve of strength.

Halfheartedly assessing his own cards, he cleared his throat.

"Sounds like them back."

"Mmhm."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"So you going down and see what the news is?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Not especially."

Willow's voice, calling for Xander; the dark-haired bloke he'd met earlier when he'd put his head round the door to check on Dawn. Fellow had seemed pleasant enough, but there'd been an intensity in the way he'd looked at him which was unnerving. Like he didn't want to wish him ill, but couldn't quite help himself. The guy was obviously still hanging around, because now he could hear him calling back, footsteps sounding outside the door. It cracked open and he half-stepped inside.

"Uh...they're back. You ok for more visitors?"

"Might as well get it over with."

Wordlessly, Xander exited and after a moment or two his voice could be heard further away, down in the foyer, as he relayed the message. Silence, and then faintly Buffy's voice, sounding strained and weary. Gathering up the cards, Dawn's face was hidden from view, but he could tell by her movements that her cool was finally nearing breaking point.

"Hey..."

Gently touching a fingertip to her shoulder, he took care not to make contact with any exposed skin.

"Maybe they couldn't find him."

A soft tap at the door and then there she was, his girl, and if he'd had any doubts at all about the outcome of today's little excursion her expression now told him everything. Stepping inside, she exchanged a silent glance with Dawn, before moving past her and sitting down on the bed. Reaching for his hand she wrapped her own through it, meshed.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself."

She smiled,

"You're looking better."

The unspoken question hung between and she faltered, looked over at the night stand instead.

"You teaching my baby sister poker?"

"We were playing Old Maid."

Dawn's voice was soft, a little resentful.

"I already know poker remember. Mom taught me."

"Aha."

Buffy's eyes drifted back to his, secrets in them, dark and painful, and without looking away from her he spoke gently.

"Why don't you go wait outside Dawn."

A small sigh, and her sister turned and left with the click of a latch, leaving them alone.

The voices downstairs slowly bled away to a soft murmur and, looking down at their hands intertwined, he smiled. Her small palm barely covered half of his, but the strength dormant in them was incredible. She was a strong woman, in many more ways than one, he only hoped he could be just as strong for her.

"So...something tells me that champagne isn't in order."

Her gaze shifted on him, shining darkly.

"Hey. Spike, it was only one option, and there are plenty more. Giles is working on it right now and you know how..."

She blinked, remembering that, of course, he didn't.

"Well, he doesn't give up easily. Neither does Willow. Between the two of them they'll fix this, they'll find a way. I'm sure of it."

"Work miracles can they?"

He hadn't meant his tone to sound so cynical, but he couldn't help himself and, releasing his hand, Buffy sighed.

"They have. In the past. Willow has....she's incredibly powerful. If there's a way to save you..."

"Like she saved your Mom you mean?"

Flinching at that, she drew back.

"That was different. She was...."

"Sick? I saw some of those printouts the girls brought back with me. Maybe some mystic magical spell made me ill to start with, but those holes in my brain looked pretty damn real to me."

Catching at his arms, her eyes flickered with fire.

"O.K, so you're ill. Since when does that mean you just give up? You never give up, never. I've seen you so bloody and busted up you couldn't even speak, Jesus I've seen you burned, tortured, sliced open, I've seen you so messed up I didn't recognise you. You always fought back. You're the stubbornest person I know Spike."

She frowned, gave him the ghost of a smile.

"Now's not the time to go all Richard Dreyfuss on me."

"Richard Dreyfuss?"

"It's this movie where the guy...." she sighed, rolled her eyes, "Never mind, the point is that I need you to be strong. We'll find a way to make you better but in the mean time you just have to hang in there. "

She touched his wrist,

"Just be the same big brave pigheaded bad ass I fell in love with, okay?"

Her fingers on his arm stilled, and the moment stretched out for a long time before he realised that she wasn't going to speak again. Tracing his palm with one fingertip she smiled softly to herself and let the silence drift on, listening to his breathing, her head craned ever so slightly forward as she did so. Watching her, he was overwhelmed again, her face was so full of awe, enraptured by the simple fact of his life. A full minute passed before she finally dropped forward, nesting her head gently into the crook of his neck, one hand splayed out over his chest. Closing his eyes, he touched his lips to her hair.

"Before...I ever tell you you were amazing?"

He felt her smile against his throat,

"Yes."

"Did I say it like I meant it?"

She moved in closer,

"Always."

A feather light kiss just below his ear and he shivered. She moved downwards a little,

"I didn't always believe you though."

"Why not?"

Another kiss, lower at the base of his throat.

"I don't think I wanted to."

Touching her lips to his jaw, she met his eyes. Calm, serious expression.

"You saw everything didn't you? When you touched me I mean? Everything that happened with us."

He nodded, drawing in a breath at the memories, still fresh, and she answered him with a small frown.

"We were...cruel to each other, for a long time. I was..."

Her hand on his chest tightened a little, reflexively,

"We hurt each other a lot. But then you changed, and after a while you made me...better."

The kiss trailed up from his jaw to his lips and she breathed into him, sunshine and warm summer air.

"You make me better."

Tasting her mouth, he felt himself responding, warm and sweet, hand sliding up her back under her cotton vest, the muscles underneath her skin moving like silk. Without breaking the kiss she reached down for the covers, lifting her legs and sliding in beside him. He paused, breathing a little harder as she leant back, twisted the vest-top up and over her head before moving back in again. Her kisses were more urgent now but, sensing his hesitance she paused, laid a hand over his hip bone.

"You ok?"

His head was thumping crazily as he tried to reply, tried to catch his breath. Everything about her felt electric, but he knew instinctively that it wasn't the spell this time, wasn't magic making him feel like he was burning up inside. He swallowed, reached to trace the line of her breast.

"Yeah, I'm just...."

And then laughed at her expression, responding to his touch. Laughed at just the pure wonder of it, that this girl could want him, love him and that he loved her back.

"We've done this before, right? I mean...loads of times?"

Pulling his mouth to her own she smiled as she kissed him, shook her head.

"Never. We've never done this before."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They slept for a good long time afterwards, and it felt both completely unfamiliar and right at the same time. Her body twined through his, her breath fluttering in the hollow of his throat, one leg still cushioned between his own. Waking, he gently tried to extricate the arm she was resting her head on and she smiled sleepily, rolled over on her other side and tucked herself tight in against him instead. The nape of her neck was damp with sweat, and where the blonde hair ended her roots were darker than his.

"You dye your hair."

A small soft chuckle,

"Look who's talking!"

Her hand reached back for his arm, slid it over her hip to cup her breast. Splaying his fingers, he could feel her heartbeat, smooth and languorous, like his own. Pushing her shoulders back she hummed softly in her throat.

"MMmmm. Now if there are chili dogs for supper, I'd say this might be my best day yet."

He laughed, drawing her in closer, fitting her to him.

"We could order in. Tell them it's strictly medicinal. A dying man's last wish."

Her back stiffened slightly, and he realised even before she pulled away that he just broken the spell. Sliding out of his arms she sat upright, pulled a hand backwards through her long tangled hair. Her movement had taken her less than a few inches or so away, but the distance between them already seemed too much. He reached for her and silently she let him run his hand up her naked back to her shoulder. Dropping her head to one side, she kissed his fingertips softly,taking her time, as if she was committing every part of them to memory. After a moment or two, she spoke.

"You know, I stopped believing in God."

"Yeah?"

She smiled sadly, tilted her head back towards him.

"As a person, a...being? Yeah. I mean I know there are demons, and that there's evil out there, even a First Evil. But a First Good?" she shrugged, "It just doesn't have the same ring to it."

"So what is there?"

He eyes closed as his palm slid downwards again, tracing the curve of her spine, the dip at the front of her hip bone. She sighed,

"I think there's love. And trust. Friendship."

She turned back to him,

"And there's beauty."

"There is that."

Her skin shone golden in the dying light of the summer day outside, touching off tiny highlights in her hair.

"But maybe that's all there is."

"Maybe."

She stilled again, one hand gently tracing a pattern on the flat plane of his stomach. Watching her, he couldn't tell what was going on inside, but he wondered at it, thought maybe he'd could be happy wondering forever.

"Buffy, I'm..."

Her fingers slowed, palm spread again over his heart.

"Spike, if I lost you again, I'm not sure I could hold it together this time. For Dawn I mean," she frowned, "For anyone. I've had so much taken from me, I don't know how much more there is to give. I used to think I could go on forever, but I can't. I don't want to. Not alone."

"You aren't alone...."

Her frown deepened, and she shook her head.

"The Slayer's always alone, remember? There might be more of us now, but that much hasn't changed. I have my friends, my sister, someday I might even have somewhere I can call home again, but that doesn't change what's always going to be missing. When you died, there was so much you gave me, everything I could ever want, but you never thought about who I was going to share it with. You wanted to give me everything, but you forgot the one thing I really needed."

She lifted her face up to look at him,

"I want you with me Spike, or it's no deal."

A knock broke the intense silence following her words and, without speaking, Buffy slid off the bed, wrapping the sheet around her as she did so. Barefoot, she padded over to the corner of the room, putting an eye to the peephole. Willow's voice was barely above a whisper, but he could hear the excited urgency of her tone even through the locked door.

"Buffy, it's me!"

Glancing over to make sure he was respectable, Buffy slid the latch to let her in, and unable to contain her enthusiasm her friend started talking almost at once.

"OK, I'm not sure how it's going to work, but we think it will. Only thing is we have to do it tonight. Giles thinks that our best chance has to be when Mercury is in retrograde and apparently that window closes in just under, "she checked her watch, "Just under uh...five hours."

"Whoa, slow down! What window? Whose window?"

"Spike's. If we wait until daybreak, it's likely we'll only have a forty-two percent chance of getting it just right," she raised an eyebrow, "Although, that's just Fred's calculation and I didn't like to tell her but she may be out by anything up to three decimal..."

"Will, are you going to explain any of this? Or will there be notes available afterwards?"

Her friend shook her head, closing her eyes as if to steady herself.

"Sorry, we've been working on it all day, I forgot..."

She swallowed, face bright with nervous elation.

"It wasn't even my idea, it was Xander's. We were talking about magic and about Anya and it just...clicked. Anya's spell, the one she made me help her with...for her necklace, to bring it back from the last time and place it'd been."

"You're going to try and bring back the amulet?"

"No, we have the amulet, we can't bring it to a place it already is. Time paradox remember? It can't exist here if it wasn't there then."

Buffy's blank expression seemed to confuse her, and she blinked wide eyed.

"Where the heck were you that whole semester? Did you miss every single physics class?"

"Will, just tell me what's happening."

"A temperal fold."

Her friend's eyes glowed with excitement,

"We create a temporal fold, a biggish one, bigger than Anya's anyway, big enough to send Spike back to the last time he was....just before everything went kablooey."

"And then what?"

"And then...nothing!"

Something was dawning behind Buffy's eyes, he could see it. The strange thing was he'd figured out what the witch was saying about three sentences ago.

"So you're saying that this time...I just do this whole amulet thing right? Follow the instructions and no one gets hurt?"

Willow nodded, eyes still on Buffy, waiting for her reaction, but her friend stayed silent.

"And afterwards I'll be ok? 100% healthy? No screaming flashbacks and holes in the brain?"

"You'll be fine."

Something about her tone was off, too careful, too precise, and the way she wasn't looking at him when she spoke, that wasn't good either. There was something he wasn't getting here and, even as it came to him, he felt his heart sink.

"I won't be me though will I?"

From behind her, he saw Buffy shoulders stiffen slightly, Willow's eyes full of kindness as she touched her friend's arm, regarding him solemnly as she did so.

"Not this time," a faint hopeful smile, "But you'll be alive. That was how it was supposed to go Spike. You weren't supposed to remember. You were supposed to start again."

Without turning, Buffy took a seat again on the edge of the bed. Her face in profile told him nothing. Reaching out for her hand, he pulled her backwards into his arms and she let him. Let him stroke her hair back from her face.

Taking a step away, Willow lowered her eyes,

"I'll be...downstairs. Just...let me know when you're ready."

and quietly, she let herself out.

Then there was just their breathing again, and the sounds of the traffic outside, muted as the evening drew in. Wrapping his arms around her, he wondered if she could hear his thoughts now, knew what he was going to say. Because if she couldn't, then how would she have known to tell him;

"You have to."

"Why?"

"You know why Spike."

"Buffy..."

"You don't have a choice."

"No?"

"No."

Her voice was small but strong. As strong as she was. Her fingers curled around his hand.

"If you love me you'll do this."

A pause.

"Do you love me Spike?"

"I do."

He pulled her a little closer, felt her heart as it missed a beat, jumping under his palm.

"I'll be ok."

"Will you?"

"Eventually."

:: you forgot the one thing I really needed. I want you with me Spike, or it's no deal ::

Her eyes found his, and if he hadn't known better he'd have believed every word she said.

"I'll survive. I always do."