Crossing the Line 4

Dawn lets the phone ring for another thirteen times and then she gives up. This is so thoughtless of Buffy! She's gone to great trouble arranging this job and flat exchange thing so she can be near Buffy when she's having the baby, and now she hasn't been able to reach her for two weeks. Typical. Or it would be if she wasn't pregnant. She'd hardly be gallivanting off to kill some exotic baddie now, would she? No plane will carry her, even if she was only accompanying Spike, who won't answer his cell either.

She sighs and decides to start unpacking and arranging a fun evening for herself. Look up some old Council friends. Or Andrew.

When she slides home into the leatherette booth of the trendy restaurant, fifties diner American style, she's satisfied to note that she's still got it. Male eyes swivel around to follow her progress.

"Hey, Dawnie," Willow says.

Willow hasn't changed into clubbing togs; she's still power suited from top to toe, with a severe hairstyle and dark-rimmed glasses. They touch face.

"Willow. Impressive get up…"

Willow makes a deprecating face. "You know how it is, Dawnie, wearing a good suit is half the work of getting your will done."

"Not in academia," Dawn says. "The opposite, in fact."

Willow sighs. "I can let my hair down with you, anyway, hon." She unpins her bun and shakes out her hair. It's long and still bright red. "The glasses are fake. I just need them to deal with the rest of the Council. I don't know why the First thought it was destroying the Council by bombing just the one building. You won't believe the amount of old fogies that came out of the woodwork when they figured the coast was clear again."

"Poor Willow. All that power…" Dawn says teasingly.

"All those long boring meetings, you mean," Willow says. "Believe me, being Head of Council is very hard work. But let's not talk about that. How's Buffy? Haven't seen her for a few weeks. She was getting pretty big, and really beaming the one moment, grumbling the next. Spike's so cute with the fatherly concern."

"Well, the funny thing is, I got here, all raring to be supportive sister and all, and I haven't been able to raise Buffy all last week, or Spike, for that matter."

Willow frowns. "I'm sure Buffy is alright, or we would know."

She looks seriously at Dawn, who feels that thing in her gut she gets when it's about Spike. "What? Something with Spike?"

Willow tosses her hair and plays with her drink far too long.

"Come on Willow, don't keep me on tenterhooks like that."

"There have been odd…sightings of Spike from our informant. I haven't been able to confirm them yet through more trustworthy channels."

"What sightings?"

Willow looks straight at Dawn again and her eyes are dark and serious. "They say he's killing again. We've found sloppy vampire kills in the dock areas, more than usual. The Chalmers group tries to tag new vamps, so the Slayers can keep track of the population, and these are by an unknown."

Willow's face grows fuzzy for a moment until Dawn blinks. She can't be hearing this right. Spike would never, ever start killing again. "I don't believe it," she says abruptly. "Not Spike."

"Maybe the happiness of impending fatherhood made him lose his soul?"

Ha ha. Too lame for words.

"Sorry," Willow says off her look. "Didn't mean it like it sounded. I know Spike's soul doesn't have a curse attached. And even if he lost it I doubt he'd kill that randomly or sloppily, he's smarter than that. But look." ;-)

She slides a picture over to Dawn. Dawn's hands are icy cold and shaking. She doesn't want to know this, not about Spike. She wants to trust him.

The photo was clearly taken in darkness. A blurry figure stands beneath a streetlight and looks around at the camera.  The posture is shifty and it appears he's about to run away. It resembles Spike, Dawn has to admit, even at that bad a quality. The white hair is clearly visible and the body's dimensions are Spike's. He's not wearing the duster, though.

"This doesn't mean anything, Willow," Dawn says. Her voice is satisfyingly steady. "This could be Spike, true, but this doesn't prove he's killing."

"I know," Willow says. "But I have to have this checked, you understand that, don't you? There are a lot of factions in the Council who believe that employing a vampire is utter folly and madness and wouldn't mind seeing him ruined or killed."

"I'll stop by their place tomorrow," Dawn says. "If Buffy finds out about this she'll kick up a hell of a fuss."

Willow raises her eyebrows and tilts her head. "Dawn. Buffy's name is not synonymous with power in the Council. She's just one of the slayers now. Granted, the oldest, together with Faith, and a valued employee. But no more than that." Her voice is soft and measured.

Dawn clenches her teeth to keep the anger out of her voice. "So all they did for the Council, all those times she saved the world together with Spike count for nothing? A valued employee? If you could hear yourself, Willow! The oh so regretful tone of your voice…How about friendship? Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Come off your high horse, Dawn. It's not as if I'm sending out killing squads! I just want to hear from him, see with my own eyes that he's his normal self." Willow gulps down her Pimms.

Dawn's happy to see that she's still a little bit sensitive to emotional blackmail like this. Willow likes to pretend she's still the sweet hesitant girl of ten years ago, which Dawn thinks is silly and self-indulgent. Anyway, better to be the power-hungry Head of Council than to be like poor Xander, a contractor struggling with alcohol, finances and two ex-wives. Having long acquaintance with Buffy doesn't seem to be make for a happy life, somehow.

"You know what, Dawn? You don't have a full time job for the next couple of months, do you?"

"No, I found work for a few days a week while I'm on leave. I need the extra time to help Buffy out."

"I understand, but that means I could hire you to track Spike down. How about that? You could make sure he's treated fairly and all."

That's not a bad idea, actually. Clever Willow. Dawn herself is in good standing with the Council because of her work on demonic languages. Nobody knows that Spike's a regular contributor to that. The man speaks dozens of languages, from Attic Greek to modern Italian, from Fyarl to Yeti, which has been an invaluable asset for her work.

Dawn thinks about it for one more second and then nods in acceptance. "Standard consultancy rates? Done. Really, the idea that Spike would start killing is ridiculous. Buffy would never stand for it."

"I agree," Willow says hastily. "Let's clear his name, okay? I'm gonna be out of town next week, so I'll arrange things for you with Smythe."

"Okay. Hey, Willow, I gotta go. I'm meeting Andrew. Say hi to Tara for me."

Willow's face brightens. "Thanks. I will. She'd really like it if you visited her, you know."

Dawn forces a smile on her face and nods. "Sure. I will. When the whole baby thing has settled down, okay?"

Dawn's never been easy with Tara again. If you look at it impartially, this is not her Tara. She'd never met this woman before Willow brought her from another dimension. Dawn can never bring herself to see them as identical, as Willow obviously does. Tara never seems quite as warm and motherly as she did before she, well, died. She's even been known not to recognize Dawn straight off when she visits. There's always a vagueness about her that puts Dawn off.

"Count on it. Bye!"

Dawn tries to shake off unformed feelings of foreboding. Ridiculous. Spike would never…She wishes  Willow hadn't changed so much. She can try all she wants to be Buffy's old friend, but she spends too much time in the powerful director's persona to be that anymore. Especially since Giles and Andrew resigned from the Council to form their own supernatural detective agency, there isn't really anyone to challenge her. Spike and Buffy would do well to remain on friendly terms with her, although she hates the calculation in that thought.  

TBC