The week went by and Dawn's arm healed, but her heart didn't. Willow had asked what the matter was, while Buffy had been strangely distant towards her. Not that Dawn minded. She spent most of her time in solitude, poor company for anyone who ventured to try and spend time with her. She wasn't rude, just silent.
Every moment hurt, every second seemed like hours, and Buffy only served as a reminder of what she couldn't have. Dawn had hoped that the passing weeks would bring relief, but so far, the time away from him only served to deepen her anguish. Some nights, she awoke, tears streaming down her face, not remembering what she had dreamt, but knowing it had been of him.
She missed him like she hadn't known she could miss, wanted him like she hadn't known she could want, and it hurt. She survived for each moment, not thinking to the future, only remembering the past, hoping against hope that things would get better. She had nothing to live for, but couldn't die, and so she survived, each moment, each breath, and it made her stronger.
* * *
"Yeah, umph! You, uh! Bitch!"
The demon stumbled into a tree and looked around confusedly, wondering who in the hell this guy was talking to.
"Come in here," kick,
"ruin my unlife," duck and roll,
"then run away! You," punch,
"make," swing,
"me," flying kick to the chest,
"sick."
He stepped back, panting; high on the small joy a good fight could give him. Still confused, the novice vamp made a feeble attack, and Spike, having lost patience with it, gave his infamous eyeroll and plunged the stake deep into its heart. He tossed the weapon amidst the dust on the ground and sauntered out of the graveyard, the crunch of leaves under his boots the only sound interrupting the grim silence of night.
This was how Spike had been spending the hours of darkness; drinking, fighting, imagining ways to kill the Slayer…anything to keep his mind off Dawn. He sighed, pulling the flask out of his coat and taking a deep swig of tequila. He wasn't sure when life had gotten boring, but it had gotten all the worse since Dawn had been gone. Downright miserable.
He missed her more than anything, but knew she loved the damn Scoobies too much to turn her back on them, so asking her to leave town with him was out. Hell, if the chip was out, I'd just kill them all and be done with it…he thought wistfully. Rip every one of their bloody heads off…
He was pissed, frustrated…utterly dejected, and for once, there was nothing he could do about it. Sighing, he raised the flask to his lips once more…
* * *
Christmas morning rolled around, a day bringing no 'special magic' for Dawn. She rolled out of bed and felt just as miserable as she did every other day. Christmas is crap, she thought numbly as she dressed. Holiday spirit my ass.
After she brushed her teeth, she moved petulantly across the room and sat at her desk to stare vacantly at the wall. Later I'll have to go downstairs, she thought angrily. Celebrate the holidays. She planned to say upstairs as long as she could, just going down for dinner. If she was lucky, not even then.
She sighed and an unbidden thought flashed through her mind: Christmas never sucked when Mom was around.
She was stricken. Mom… this will be our first Christmas dinner without her…
Immersed in her thoughts, Dawn didn't hear the knock on her door and looked up, surprised, when Buffy entered. The pit of resentment in her stomach bubbled up and she turned her attention back to the wall. She ran her fingers nervously over the polished mahogany of her desk.
"Merry Christmas, Dawnie." For once Buffy's voice sounded hesitant…unsure.
"Maybe for you," Dawn muttered under her breath.
"Dawn," Buffy plopped down on Dawn's bed. "We need to talk."
"About what?" She looked down to her lap. "How you ruined my life?"
"Dawn, look at me." Buffy's voice was authorative, commanding, and, just like that night in the crypt, that night which seemed as if it had occurred a million years ago, Dawn obeyed. She hesitantly met her sister's eyes and was surprised at the empathy she found there.
"Dawn, I've been thinking. A lot actually; about you, about...things... I saw you last week, that demon. How you stopped it…" A silence settled over the room, light spilling in through the window as Buffy bit her lip, looking for the words to continue. "And you were right."
Dawn's eyes flared in surprise, and her gaze met Buffy's once again.
"You can take care of yourself. I don't know where you learned... or how, I mean, I don't think that book from Willow taught you all that; but you did. It really surprised- amazed me," she corrected herself. "And I'm sorry I didn't trust you. Sorry I sheltered you. It's just after Mom-" both girls looked to the floor in sadness at the memory of the woman who had meant so much to them.
"I just… I promised her I would take care of you, and I will. But I guess taking care of you isn't the same thing as not letting you make your own decisions.
"That thing with Spike? He's evil and- a monster, but, now I know... with the chip and you-" She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Dawn, I don't know what's going on with him…part of me doesn't want to know, but you can take care of yourself," she repeated, as if trying to convince herself. "And he can't hurt you- not in that way at least.
"I have to let you live, learn from your own mistakes. And if Spike is what you…" Buffy looked pained as she said this. She inhaled deeply and tried again, "You aren't a little girl, and if Spike is want you want then…I'm not gonna stop you. I'm not saying I can accept it. I can't accept him, but I'm not gonna stop it. Just…remember what I said, and, god, Dawnie, don't let him hurt you…he's-"
A tear crept down Buffy's cheek, but Dawn sat, too dazed to care. This was unreal. For the first time in weeks, happiness flooded through her, and it felt strange and foreign. Then she realized, I can see Spike!! I can see him! Oh, god, Spike!
She stood and flew to her door, throwing it open and racing merrily into the hall, nearly forgetting the sister who was sitting on her bed in tears. Then she stopped. She turned back to Buffy, who was silently crying on the bed. Dawn walked over and brushed aside a golden strand of hair. "I know what I'm doing," she whispered.
Buffy tore her gaze from her lap to look up at her with glassy, red-rimmed eyes. "Dawn, I just-"
"I know." She pulled her sister into a hug and comfortingly kissed the long honey-colored strands of hair.
Buffy clung to her; clung to the child she still wished Dawn was, trying desperately not to let her slip through her fingers. She held on tight, but the childhood trickled away like water, and all that was left was a young woman, Dawn.
A choked sob escaped her as she looked at her sister; hope and need in her eyes, and Dawn looked back, strength and resilience in hers. She kissed Buffy's cheek and pulled away, whispering, "Merry Christmas."
Buffy stood and wiped her tears, the moment of childlike desperation gone, replaced with Buffy, the woman, child who had not been allowed to grow up, who had been expected to be grown up. Her back straightened and she gave a weak smile.
"I love you," she said as way of goodbye, and Dawn turned, racing out of the room, down the steps, and out the door.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
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