Pretty Dollies: Our Girl

Part 5

Disclaimer: I would be busy filming this if I owned it.

            Spike was sleeping in the new bed Xander had built for him.  The clean sheets and blankets were bundled to one side of him, leaving him totally uncovered, except for his feet.  Gwinnie was watching him from her own bed, a hand-me-down from Buffy and Dawn.  Hers was light pink with small yellow flowers on the headboard.  But she wasn't paying attention to the flowers on her headboard, or the ducks on her covers.  She was watching her daddy sleep.  He didn't look like he was asleep.  He looked dead.  She knew that technically he was, but this was different.  Not only did he look really dead when he was asleep, he also slept like the dead.  Sometimes she had to sit on his chest and pull on his ears to make him wake up.

            "No…don't…don't poke that…it's not for poking…" Spike muttered, startling the girl staring at him, who promptly fell over.  She hadn't even realized she was so dangerously perched on the side of her bed.  But she didn't notice a lot of things when she was paying close attention to Daddy.  He was distracting.  She could see why the Slayer wanted to keep him near.  Even if the Slayer herself couldn't.

            She supposed very few people loved their daddy as much as she loved hers.  Sure, they cared very much, and sent them cards and bought presents and everything.  But they weren't really devoted.  Not really really.  Not like she was.  She would do anything for Daddy.  He took care of her when she was growing up, the whole seventy-plus years.  He was like a mummy and a daddy all in one, since Mummy wasn't really the mothering type.  He brought her food, and made sure it was good, even though he didn't eat food himself.  He washed her dresses when they got muddy, or bloody.  He kissed her when she was hurt, and when she wasn't.  He gave her big hugs, and let her kill things sometimes, if she was really good.  Daddy was perfect.  Completely perfect.

            "Stupid git…" Daddy grunted and rolled over.  Silently, Gwinnie rose and tiptoed over to Daddy's bed.  She climbed up and snuggled in, carefully molding herself to the curves and contours of his body, filling up all the empty places.  She knew that some people would think such complete intimate touch between a man and a girl her size was wrong, even criminal.  But that wasn't the case.  Gwinnie may have had the mind of an adult, but she was still prone to childish impulses.  One of which was her primal need to be touched.  She needed to know that Daddy was there, not by hearing him or seeing him, but by being able to feel him next to her, feel him completely enfolding her until she was unsure where Daddy began and she ended.  She sighed quietly and inhaled deeply, enjoying his scent.  Daddy smelled so nice.  Like blood, and chocolate.  And now, just a bit of vanilla.  A bit of Slayer.  Chocolate and vanilla…how ironic, she thought, a small smile twisting her angelic features before falling back asleep.

            "I've been thinking."  Buffy squeaked in surprise and very nearly dropped a very heavy punching bag on her toes.  She turned quickly, once she regained her balance to see Gwinnie standing in the doorway.  She was dressed in one of her new outfits, a pair of denim Capri pants with violets embroidered on them paired with a little violet shirt and denim jacket with the same pattern.  And a matching hat.  The hat really makes the outfit, Buffy thought with a happy sigh before focusing on the matter at hand.

            "About what?" She asked, hanging the punching bag up on a hook suspended from the training room ceiling.  She didn't bother asking how Guindeviere had managed to get dressed, escape the maximum security of the house, and find her way to the Magic Box.  She was a strange little girl.

            "About Slayers.  And you.  And pudding."  Buffy grinned slightly, despite herself.

            "I'm gonna take a wild stab and say this isn't about the last one?"  Gwinnie didn't smile back.

            "I want to spar with you."

            "Spar?  Me and you?  Gwinnie, sweetie…" Buffy shook her head.  How could she fight a little girl?  Especially such an endearing cute little girl?  Even if she was half-vampire and really old, she still looked like a little girl.

            "I'm serious.  I want to spar with you, and I won't leave until we do."  Buffy sighed.  Gwinnie was making her version of Willow's 'resolve face'.  No one could get in the way of a resolve face.

            "Fine, okay, we'll spar."  Buffy settled into a familiar stance, and Guindeviere did the same.  They did the traditional circling and Buffy sighed.  She was going to have to initiate this, she could feel it.  With a slight cringe, she aimed a light kick toward her small opponent.  Her foot was easily snatched out of the air.

            "You're holding back.  Please don't patronize me Slayer." Buffy felt a distinctly uncomfortable sensation as she was whipped into the air and crashed into one of the walls with more force than she had anticipated.

            Buffy grumbled her way down to the basement.  Gwinnie had finally left her alone.  The girl was, of course, no real match for the Slayer, but her remarkable speed and impressive agility had been enough to annoy Buffy for nearly an hour.  Satisfied for the moment, the half-vampire had simply walked away.  That was a strange little girl that absolutely defined "strange little girl".  Her back was still a tad sore from that surprising burst of strength at the very beginning.

            "Spike?"  She rounded the corner and squeaked, turning away uncomfortably.

            "What?" He asked mildly, either unaware the effect his lack of shirt startled her, or uncaring.

            "Sorry…should have made you sure you were decent, I'm sorry, didn't mean to barge in," she started babbling in a way that would have made Willow proud.  Spike grinned at her back and walked over, laying his hands on her shoulders.  She shuddered involuntarily.

            "Quite alright, luv.  Don't mind a bit.  'Spose I should get a little more on.  Or," he massaged her tensed muscles gently and leaned down to smell her hair, "I wouldn't object to you takin' some off…"

            Buffy squeaked in a rather un-Slayerlike fashion and batted his hands off fiercely.  He held them up in surrender.

            "I retreat, don't go stake-happy on me," he wandered over to the dresser he and Gwinnie shared and started digging around.  He pulled out a light green shirt with a teddy-bear on it and held it up to his chest.

            "I don't think that one suits you," Buffy said, trying to stay angry at him.

            "No," he replied solemnly, "Don't reckon it's my color."  Buffy giggled, and the victorious vampire pulled on one of his usual black shirts.

            "So, why have you entered my humble abode?" He asked, flopping down lazily on his bed.  Buffy stood at the foot of the bed, looking out of place.

            "Well, I just wanted you to know that Gwinnie might have to stay downstairs for a while later.  I'm going out."

            "Out where?" Spike asked suspiciously, sitting up.

            "I-I don't think that's any of your business."

            "Buffy…" he fixed her with his most penetrating glare.  She tried to look away, tried crossing her arms but couldn't seem to shake the feeling of his eyes boring into her.

            "If you must know, I'm going to a job interview."

            "A job?"

            "Well, yeah.  Someone's got to make money around here.  Since Mom…well, I hadn't realized how bad it's gotten.  I'm in some serious debt, and I need an income."

            "You don't need a job," he said with disgust, "You need money? I got money."
            "No, Spike, I'm not taking your money."

            "Don't be silly Slayer.  Just tell me how much you need and-"

            "I don't need charity Spike!" Plus, I'll never stop wondering where you got all that money  she thought bitterly.  She couldn't just take his money, especially if there was a good chance it was gained illegally.

            "It's not charity, it's a gift."

            "No…we'll be fine…"

            "Not charity, not a gift…okay then, it's rent!" He reached his conclusion triumphantly, grinning at her, "I'm paying you rent for letting Gwinnie and me stay here.  Plus reimbursement for the money you spent refurbishing my new pad."

            "Spike…" But her resolve was crumbling.  There was nothing wrong with rent.  In fact, it was expected for someone allowing non-relatives to live with them to charge rent.  Rent was perfectly fine, and if it was rent, he was paying her, so there wasn't such a huge worry about where the money came from…she was rationalizing, but she didn't care.  Buffy needed money.

            Dark.  So dark…she couldn't think, couldn't breathe.  Dark…stifling and muffling dark.  She had tried to scream.  She screamed for hours upon hours, possibly even days.  But no one came.  No one rescued her from the horrible dark.  Daddy! Where are you Daddy?  Why am I all alone here?  Why haven't you come for me?  Daddy…I'm scared. I'm lonely.  I need you Daddy!  She squeezed her knees close to her chest and trembled.  But then there was a crash.  An explosion of light!  It seared her skin and burned her eyes, even behind her eyelids.

            "Hey Mac! There's a kid down here!"  A voice broke the spell of the light.  Someone was here.  She was out.  She could leave the Dark.  She could come out into the world.  She could find Daddy.

            Gwinnie walked down the hallway, putting her feet directly in front of each other, pretending to walk a tightrope.  Dawn had sent her to find some ribbon to wrap Willow's birthday presents with.  She opened the closet door and darted inside, looking up at shelves.  Then, with a thump, the door swung shut behind her.  She froze and turned around.  She pushed on the door, first tentatively, then throwing her whole weight into it.  It did not open.  She tried to take deep breaths but found herself gasping for air.  She thrust her arms out and slammed into the walls.  She spun around wildly, clawing at jackets and boxes.  After five minutes, she sunk to her knees and began shaking erratically.  The entire house jumped when her unearthly shrieking began.

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