(Set at the end of Potential)
"Didn't know I looked like the errand boy," Spike muttered, taking the stairs two at a time. He would have thought that Buffy could have shut the door behind her when she shepherded the girls down here, but no. Reaching for the doorknob, he heard Buffy's voice rise from below. "I saw what you did last night. Not bad. Not bad at all." Sounded like the beginnings of speechifying. Maybe there was an upside to getting to step out, even if for a moment.
Then from beyond the door he heard, "I saw what you did last night." Funny, the same words, but this sounded a lot more promising. What might Harris be fessing up to?
"Yeah, I... I guess I kinda lost my head when I thought I was the slayer." So he was addressing Dawn, which was a bit disappointing, since it meant the true confessions of Xander LaVelle Harris weren't gonna be happening. Eh, maybe Xander would at least give her a little speechifying of her very own. Last night she'd been off her nut to go playing the slayer like that.
From below Buffy continued. "You didn't lose your heads. You're special, but thinking you're special won't keep you from being a statistic." Yep, there's the truth. The speechified version, but still the truth.
"You thought you were all special. Miss Sunnydale 2003," said Xander. And Harris had the Bit well in hand. Time to move along, nothing more to see here. Spike pulled on the door.
"Look at Amanda," said Buffy. "Instinct. She didn't pause to think. She just did what needed to be done."
Not that he had a particular yen for the 'How To Be a Slayer in Twelve Deadly Steps' lecture series, but with the other option being the bright, sunny kitchen, the basement it was. Til Harris' next words caught his attention
"And the minute you found out you weren't, you handed the crown to Amanda without a moment's pause. You gave her your power."
His hand shot out, catching the door before it latched. This was news to him. From below, a gaggle of girls squawked, protesting and pointing out their girl power. Spike nudged the door open. Stepping back from the landing, he pressed himself against the shadowy side of the stairwell.
From above there was Dawn. "The power wasn't mine." She sounded so matter of fact. But something told him it wasn't that simple. Harris wouldn't realize it, but he knew his girl. She was holding it in. Not unlike another Summers woman he knew.
"Yes, you have power within you," Buffy said.
"They'll never know how tough it is, Dawnie, to be the one who isn't chosen," said Xander.
Spike nodded at that. Been the also ran all of his own life. But that wasn't Dawn's story. She knew that, didn't she? From above and below they continued. Spike blocked out Buffy's voice, straining to hear Harris' next words.
"To live so near to the spotlight and never step in it. But I know. I see more than anybody realizes because nobody's watching me. I saw you last night. I see you working here today. You're not special."
The git. The absolute git. Spike flexed his fingers into fists, imagining the pleasure of knocking some sense into that fool's head. Dawn was special. Smarter than the two them put together. Not to mention fierce, yet forgiving. Eloquent and, eh, what was another descriptor that started with "e"?
"You're extraordinary."
He frowned. Yes she was, but where'd Harris pull that out of? And that wasn't the sound of a kiss, was it? What the hell was going on? He wanted to storm into the living room, shove Harris away, but instead he gripped the railing, splinters digging into his palms. He wanted to yell at them both that it was his job to be in tune with Dawn's inner goings-on, not anyone else's, especially not Xander Bleeding Harris', but instead he gasped like a fish thrown to the shore.
Their next words washed over him like an unbroken stream. "Maybethat'syourpower." "What?" "Seeing." "Knowing." "Maybeitis." "MaybeIshouldgetacape." "Capeisgood." "Yeah." The words didn't matter. It was what the spaces in-between whispered to him. Whispering that he'd been replaced. Whispering that there was only one person to blame.
He considered considering how Dawn had never made him work for her affection, but he shied away from that thought. It wasn't about the chase for him; it was the devotion. He was not fickle. He wasn't. He'd always prided himself on his devotion to the women in his life: his mother, Dru, Buffy and Dawn. Right?
Maybe he'd assumed the little girl he had known, would always be. But Xander hadn't. Somewhere along the line, he'd stopped paying real attention. But Xander hadn't. Harris knew. As for himself? He'd forgotten. Forgotten that for humans, to change was as natural as breathing. While he'd only grown foolish, Harris had somehow grown wise and Dawn had grown to be exactly what Harris had put his finger on. She was extraordinary.
It was silent in the light beyond. Buffy's voice carried up to him. "I wish I didn't have to ask you to grow up so quickly. I wish I could be enough to keep the world safe from what goes bump in the night. But I'm not. I need you. The world needs you. So let's get to work."
He knew his cue when he heard it. Still he lingered, listening to the silence. His motto had always been that life wasn't about waiting to be chosen, it was about making one's own fate. And they could use his kind of help, so he should push off.
"Spike, are you up there?"
"Comin'." Shutting the door, he descended to the destiny of his choices.