Chapter Ten
"...So then he yells, 'Get thee gone, witch!' and throws this massive flaming torch at me," Willow said. "It caught my skirt and set it on fire."
Tara's eyes were huge. "What did you do?"
"Jumped in the river," Willow said. "I ducked under and swam away. Xander said they thought I'd disappeared. Obviously hadn't heard of underwater swimming."
"Were you all right?"
"I was fine. Messed up my skirt, but then clothes are a lot easier to replace than skin. It did burn me a little, though," Willow said.
"Where?"
"On my calf. Look," she sat down on a low wall and lifted up her skirt, pulling down her stocking to show Tara the faded scar.
"Poor thing," Tara stroked the skin, soft but slightly bumpy under the surface where the tissues had been damaged. Willow shivered. "Are you cold?"
"No," Willow said, truthfully, because she was suddenly hot. "It, uh, it tickles. Itches."
"I could get some salve for that, if you want," Tara offered. "Anya keeps some, I think. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."
Willow gave her a warm smile. "Thanks." She pulled her stocking back up and fastened the garter. "I, er..."
Tara's eyes ducked down, then back up again. "I suppose Xander usually does that for you."
"Does what?"
"Salve and things. For your burn. And - you know, other things."
Willow laughed nervously. "He does, and he always makes some joke about it."
"Why? It's not funny."
"No, he just... He always says something like, 'It's just like we're married or something.'"
"Why aren't you?" Tara asked suddenly.
Taken aback, Willow blinked a bit. "I, uh... Well, you know, it's Xander."
Tara frowned anxiously.
"Plus, I can't marry him."
"Why not?"
"I'm... Jewish, and he's not."
"Oh," Tara looked down again. "What's it like?"
"What?"
"Being... Jewish."
"It's not something I really think about much. What's it like not being Jewish?"
Tara looked up, caught Willow's eye, and smiled shyly. "I... I never really thought about it like that."
Willow wasn't really sure how it happened. One minute they were sitting there talking about Judaism, and the next she was thinking how lush Tara's lips looked. And when she tried to tell herself she was purely admiring them, in an aesthetic sort of way, she knew she was lying.
"A-are you all right?" Tara asked, looking at her strangely.
"I'm fine," Willow said quickly.
"You're all pale."
"I, uh..."
Tara touched her forehead, her cheeks. "You're burning up." She leaned closer. "You're-"
And then Willow kissed her.
Dawn was already dressed and heading for the stables when she met her father going in the same direction.
"I thought you had a late night last night."
He barely looked at her, just strode on by. "I thought you were supposed to have been asleep."
"My room overlooks the terrace," Dawn said, arching her eyebrows, and Spike had the grace to blush. "Buffy still asleep?"
"She is."
"I like her," Dawn said thoughtfully.
"Me too," Spike said, but he didn't sound too happy about it. He found his horse and saddled it himself, ignoring the stablehands who swarmed about, trying to impress his daughter in her smart blue velvet. "You really brought a riding costume with you on a flying visit?"
"I didn't know how long I'd be here," Dawn said, smiling prettily at a boy who was taking a deliberately long time to fasten a buckle on the saddle. Spike glared at him and did it himself.
"Why are you here?"
"I wanted to tell you something."
"So tell me." Spike swung up onto his horse, and Dawn did the same before she spoke.
"I'm getting married."
"The hell you are." Spike kicked his horse out into the yard. Dawn followed, staring. She'd been gearing up to say this for weeks. She'd expected something a little more than that.
"No, I really am."
"No, you're really not."
Exasperated, she said, "Why not?"
"You don't have my permission."
"I wasn't asking for it."
"I'll lock you in."
"I'll escape," Dawn said matter-of-factly as she rode after him out of the yard and down a mud track. "I'm getting married."
"You're too young."
"No, I'm not! Sixteen is a perfectly acceptable age to be married!"
"No, it's not," Spike said, and kicked his mare into a gallop. As if he didn't have enough to cope with, there was this. Most of the time he hardly remembered he had a daughter, and when he did it was to think of some tiny creature with massive blue eyes who looked up at him with a mixture of awe and fear.
How long had it been since she looked at him like that? Come to think of it, had she ever? He couldn't remember Dawn being afraid of anything. She was as stubborn as a mule and she never did what she was told. And as for being tiny, she had done an awful lot of growing up since he'd seen her last.
An awful lot.
And she was far too young to be getting married. Next thing he knew, she'd be having babies and then he'd be a grandfather. Him, a grandfather! He was a ruthless bloody highwayman, for God's sake. He could just about get away with having an illegitimate daughter, because that was a rakish thing to do, but not a grandchild. Never.
"Look," Dawn had slewed her horse in front of him, making him stop suddenly - thank God his horse was so well trained - "I could have just run off and got married and you'd never have even known about it. Never have even met him. I'm offering you the chance to do that."
"If I meet him, I'll beat the shit out of him," Spike said, trying to get past, but she stayed in his way.
"Why? He's a good man."
Because he's taking you away, Spike wanted to say. And if he does that, I'll have nothing. No Buffy, no Dawn. Nothing.
"You're too young."
"No," Dawn went for patience, "I'm not."
"You-"
"I'm as old as you were when you joined the army."
He glared at her, and she folded her arms.
"You're still a child," he said.
"I am not! I've been running your house for years! God knows, someone has to."
Spike tried to think of something to say to that, and failed.
"Look," Dawn said. "Come and meet him. You'll like him. He's clever and funny, and he has his own house and a respectable income."
"What does he do?" Spike asked suspiciously.
"He's a lawyer."
"I don't trust lawyers."
"You'd trust him. He could be very useful. Think about it, Spike."
"Why don't you ever call me 'father'?" he asked irritably.
"Why don't you ever act like one?"
"I am now."
"No, now you're acting like a stubborn kid."
"So that's where you get it from."
They glared at each other.
"You can't stop me," Dawn said.
"Watch me."
"Why does it bother you so much?"
"Because," Spike's horse sidestepped restlessly, and he knew how it felt. "Because you're too young, and I don't want to see you ruin your life the way I ruined mine."
"By having me? Well, I'm sorry, but no one asked me if I wanted to be born and ruin your life for you."
"That's not what I meant-"
"So what did you mean?"
Spike ground his teeth. "I don't want to see you get hurt."
Dawn cocked her head. "Why not?"
Because I love you. "Because you're all I've got," Spike said, although he said it quietly.
Dawn looked at him for a long moment, and when he made to pull his horse away, she reached out and grabbed its bridle.
"What about Buffy?"
"What about her?"
"You have her too."
At that Spike made his horse move away, "No, I don't," he said, and kicked the mare into a gallop before Dawn could think of anything to say to that.
She rode back to Angel's house, slid off the horse and hardly noticed the stableboys this time, walked back up to the house in thoughtful silence. Inside, activity swarmed all over the place, and she found Buffy talking to Angel in the drawing room.
"Have you seen Spike?" Buffy asked, as soon as she saw Dawn.
Dawn smiled at Buffy's use of his nickname. "He's out riding."
"Will he be back soon?"
"I don't know." Judging by the look on his face as he'd galloped away, Dawn wouldn't bet on it.
Buffy's face fell, and when Giles put his head round the door and said they were nearly ready to go, it fell even further.
"He probably forgot you're leaving," Angel said.
"Or he just doesn't care."
"No, he does," Dawn said, and they both looked surprised at the force in her voice.
"So why didn't he stay to say goodbye?"
"He - he's just preoccupied," Dawn said lamely. "Stay a while, and-"
"Why?" Buffy said, looking unhappy. "To say goodbye to a highwayman who lies to me?"
"When did he lie?" Angel asked.
"He wasn't big on telling me he had a daughter."
"He never tells anyone," Dawn said. "I'm the best kept secret in the Colonies."
Buffy sighed, looking tired. She was tired: she'd slept fitfully, knowing she had to leave and trying to think of what to say to Spike in the morning. To Will. Funny how his name had changed in her mind. How he had changed. Now she trusted him, now she cared about how he felt. Now she didn't want to leave him.
But she had to. No one had a better chance to reform than her, and she was damn well going to take it. Giles was a kind and respectable man, and it looked like Xander and Willow might be staying around for a while, and she liked Anya, and if she got bored she could always come and visit Angel and Darla. She had an open invitation.
But she'd sure as hell miss Spike.
Xander came to the door to tell her they were ready, and she dredged up a smile from somewhere to give to Angel. He kissed her - going for her mouth but getting her cheek - and hugged her, and she said, "Thank you. For everything."
"Any time, darlin'."
Buffy turned to Dawn, who gave her a shy smile and said, "He really does like you, you know."
"He likes his horse, too," Buffy said. "It was nice to meet you, Miss-"
"Dawn," Dawn said firmly.
"Dawn," Buffy smiled warmly. "I hope you and your father get on better."
"Do you think I'm too young to be married?"
"Yes," Xander said.
"Hell, no," Angel said.
Buffy glared at them both. "I think you'll know when you're ready."
"I'm pretty sure I am now."
"Then no, you're not too young. Did Spike say you were?"
Dawn rolled her eyes and nodded.
"Between you and me, he's not too bright."
Dawn grinned. "I like you," she said, and hugged Buffy, who hugged her back in surprise.
Buffy said goodbye to Darla, and to Cordelia and Doyle - definitely something going on there, she thought - and then she and Giles and Xander and Anya got on their horses, saddlebags fully packed, and rode off. Away from Sunnydale House. Away from Angel and his ill-gotten gains, his jokes and his Irish leers. Away from Cordelia's knowing sense. Away from Dawn's bright, oddly old eyes. Away from Spike, his hard delicious body, his cool, hot eyes, his manic cheekbones, his luscious mouth, his heat and his power and his lust.
Buffy's body throbbed and her heart lurched and she almost turned back, sure she could hear him crying her name, just the way he did when he made love to her, but she knew she was dreaming, and she had to forget him.
She rode on, her mind full of him.
Spike reined his horse in, watching the party far below in the valley, riding away out of his life. He knew where they were going, of course, he could even get down there and intercept them in no time, it was what he did for God's sake - but he also knew Buffy had left without waiting to say goodbye. He ached for her, felt her absence like the loss of a limb, but he didn't go after her. He didn't need her in his life.
He was pretty sure he didn't need her.
Nearly pretty sure.
Oh, hell.
Dawn was reading a book in the library when her father stalked in, looking mad as all hell, riding crop still in hand, and she eyed it warily. He'd never struck her before, but they way he was looking now she wasn't entirely sure she trusted him.
"Come on," he said, and grabbed her to her feet.
"We're going somewhere?"
"Got a son-in-law to meet," Spike said, and Dawn beamed at him so widely he nearly cracked a smile. But then he thought, Buffy, and his heart lurched. "Come on."
Dawn gathered her things and put her riding costume back on and said goodbye to Darla, who looked at her as if she was a child, and Angel, who looked at her like she was a piece of meat, and followed her father out to the stableyard.
"I have my carriage," she said, and Spike said, "I hate those things."
"Okay, we'll ride," she said, seeing her horse all ready for her. Something told her that to annoy her father right now would not be a good move.
Her luggage was packed away in the carriage, ready to follow them with Doyle and his pistol escorting it, and they set off. Spike's horse was fast, and he rode hard, and Dawn was breathless trying to keep up. That's a lot of frustration he's pounding out there, she thought, as he suddenly reined in on the edge of a small wood and said, "You want to learn the family trade?"
She looked at him in confusion.
"Coach coming this way," Spike said. "Rich pickings."
"I'm not sure-"
"Then get over there and stay out of my way," he said abruptly, and Dawn did as she was told, frightened but curious. Spike pulled something out of his pocket and tied it around his face - a black scarf covering his face below his eyes. He pulled his hat down, so his face could hardly be seen at all, got out his pistol, and when the coach rattled round the corner, aimed and shot one of the wheels to bits.
The coach staggered and lurched to a halt, and the driver looked up in terror to see Spike.
"Get down," Spike said. "Now, before I shoot you in the head."
Dawn had never seen him look so ruthless. The driver did as he was told, and Spike, swinging off his horse, whacked the man hard over the head with the butt of his pistol. Dawn winced. Ouch.
The door of the coach had opened and a rather fat, pompous-looking man in an elaborate wig got out and started blustering, "Just what's going on here-?"
He saw Spike reloading his gun, and, far from looking afraid, just blustered a little bit more.
"Now look here," he said, and Spike waved his gun.
"Shut up."
The pompous man got out his own pistol, ornate and ugly, and brandished it bravely. "I'll not give in to your kind," he said, and Spike aimed and calmly shot him.
Dawn let out a small scream and covered her mouth with her hand. She heard more screams, from inside the coach, as the fat man fell to the ground with blood all over him.
"Shut up," Spike said loudly, "or I'll shoot the bloody lot of you. Damn sight easier than keeping you all alive. Get out and keep your mouths shut, or I'll rip you each a new one."
A trembling and silent group of people got out of the coach, and Dawn watched her father take watches, jewellery and money from each of them. He stepped over the fallen man carelessly to get to the last passenger, a pretty young woman not too much older than Dawn. She was shaking so hard Dawn could see the movement from her hiding place in the trees.
"You," Spike said, gesturing with his gun. "With me. The rest of you stay where you are. I've got someone watching this coach and you'll all be dead in seconds if you try anything."
He grabbed the young woman by the arm and yanked her into the trees. She stumbled after him, sobbing, and as they got closer Dawn could hear her crying, "Please don't hurt me. Take whatever you want. Please..."
"Shut up," Spike said, and shoved her the last few feet to Dawn. "Take your cloak off. Quicker than that, I don't have all day."
The girl looked at Dawn, who bit her lip and looked uncomfortably at her father. "Um, should I-"
"Be quiet," Spike said. To the girl he added, "Unfasten your dress."
By now openly sobbing, shaking so hard she could hardly move, the girl took ages to unhook each bit of her bodice.
"Spike," Dawn said, "this is-"
He stepped forward and roughly lifted the girl's chin. "How old are you?"
"S-sixteen."
"You a virgin?"
Tears cascaded down her cheeks. "Y-yes."
Spike glanced at Dawn, who looked furious. "Betrothed?"
She shook her head and started to mumble a prayer.
"Good. Too young. What do you have in there?" he finished unfastening her bodice as she trembled there before him.
"Spike," Dawn stepped forward and took his arm, but he shook her off and to her astonishment, withdrew a velvet pouch from the girl's corset. He shook it, and it jingled with coins and jewellery.
"Thanks," he said, and tucked the pouch into his pocket. "Get dressed. You're giving me ideas." He strode off back to the coach.
Dawn helped the distraught girl fasten her clothing and offered her a weak smile before leading her back to the coach, where everyone was back on board, including the fat man Spike had shot and the unconscious driver. He shut the door, blocked it with a piece of wood, and said to his daughter, "We're off."
"Oh, no we're not," she said, and when he looked back she was standing with hands on hips, looking like she'd kill him with her bare hands.
"That's how I do it," he said.
"I hate you."
"I pay for all your pretty things."
"I don't want them."
Spike glared at her. He was in a bloody awful mood. What he really wanted was to kick the shit out of something, but he knew Dawn would shoot him with his own pistol if he did. So he'd robbed the first coach that came along, wanting - needing - the lift that came with it, and instead just feeling more depressed. Time was, he'd have had that pretty little girl up against a tree with her skirts over her head, taking her for everything she had - jewels, money, virtue - but then Dawn was there, and he suddenly wanted her respect.
Not to mention that the only woman he wanted to touch at all was riding back home with her godfather, having forgotten him completely.
"You killed that man," Dawn accused.
"I did not. I shot his arm. He'll be fine."
"He could bleed to death."
"I tied a tourniquet. Dawn-"
She was already turned away from him, flouncing back to her horse. Great. Two women in as many hours. What was wrong with him?
That's what you get going for longevity, Spike, he realised miserably. You're not cut out for anything permanent.
"Dawn," he yelled, but she was already on her horse. "Don't you dare ride away without me!"
"I'll do what I damn well like," she yelled back, kicking her horse away.
Spike stepped back as she nearly rode him down and hollered after her, "Fine, but if you get attacked don't expect me to bloody rescue you." He pulled the bar off the coach door, muttering, "These bloody roads are full of bandits."
The frightened passengers stared out at him in confusion.
"What are you looking at?" Spike snarled, and got on his horse to go after his daughter.