HOW LIKE A FALLEN ANGEL – CHAPTER 8
The next day, Dawn was up and moving. She had some trouble with twisting her body, but she was remarkably pain free. We started out with a light warm-up and then sparred for about half an hour. She moved pretty well, but her stamina had taken quite a hit. This meant that as soon as she was able, running was on the agenda. Till then we worked out with what we could. I realized that I was kind of walking on eggshells around her. I felt wrong, like all that had happened was my fault, and I didn't know what to do to fix it. Our relationship had always been; I guess serene is the best word; but now tension was everywhere. I guess I just needed to get my head out of my backside. Talking to Buffy really helped. She told me some of her past encounters with Dawn and told me to go head on; that subtlety would be wasted, and even despised. So, I took her advice. We were working on some basic Kendo moves, but I kept having to correct her; which was unusual, I finally stopped the lesson.
"What's the matter, this isn't like you?"
"Just nervous I guess."
"Nervous"
"Well, maybe scared is a better word."
"Of what?"
She looked right in my eyes; hesitated for a second, then said "that you won't trust me anymore."
"Why wouldn't I trust you?"
"Because I was hurt, I don't know, because I'm not a hundred percent; because I feel like I failed somehow. I'm afraid you'll decide that you're better off alone, and I couldn't handle that."
The honesty that we shared was very much a two edged sword. Just because we knew that both of us would be honest, didn't mean that we would like what we heard. It might not be pleasant, just the truth. She was exposing her deepest fears, inadequacy and abandonment; and as much as I could do to demonstrate that those notions were absurd, they would always be with her. Because she grew up with a slayer and witches and other supernatural creatures she would always feel inadequate. And she had been abandoned several times by people who were caring for her, Buffy, her Mom, Tara and even Spike; and while it's true that in most cases the abandonment was due to death, that doesn't mitigate the pain. I did the only thing I could think of and just hugged her and told her the simple truth. "I would never be better off alone; you complete me in a way that no-one or nothing else can. You have my heart in your keeping; I couldn't leave that and remain alive. I love you, Dawn Summers, I love everything that you do and that you are; with everything that I have, I always will."
She held me, just held me; and I allowed the depth of my love to wash over her. I knew that this is what she needed, the unconditional assurance that I would only be parted from her in death. I don't know how long we stood there, it was forever, and just a second or two; but when we parted, she looked much more like the old Dawn.
We parted and she turned to pick up her practice sword. I took the opportunity to whack her across her butt with my own practice blade. She turned with an outraged look, and then laughing, attacked me.
We sparred for another half hour, I could tell that she was pushing it through some pain, and though doctor Bement might not approve, I wasn't going to stop her. When we finally got done, I used my power to ease her pain and relax her muscles. We cleaned up the room, and on her way out, Dawn looked flirtatiously over her shoulder and asked "wanna catch a shower?"
Who was I to say no to an offer like that?
After a week or so, Dawn was again ready for the field. I had handled a few emergencies over that time, and each one felt wrong. I would reach out for her with my mind, and she wouldn't be there. When I was fighting, I would move like she was there to watch my back. It nearly got me in trouble a time or two. I returned with some fresh scars and some serious reprimands from Dawn for taking stupid chances. She was right; it was simply that I hated being away from her, so I did whatever was necessary to speed things along, and if that meant risky choices, so be it. Finally the doctor gave her the OK and we went back to work, as a team.
At first, I was so happy that we were out in the field together that I didn't notice it. It actually took almost a month to realize the truth, that Dawn had lost something. It used to be that I took point simply as a way to restrain her. Like Faith, she would go charging in and Devil take the hindmost. Now, she avoided hand to hand whenever possible. She would use her pistol and then mine in order to avoid coming to grips with her foe. In the beginning I had hoped that once she got back into the swing of things, her style would revert to what it had been. After a month I could not hold onto that illusion any more. What really tipped the scales was an encounter that we had with a breeding nest for Vrochek demons.
We found the nest easily enough. This particular group of demons had been there for some time. It was only recently that they had gotten aggressive and therefore become a threat. Once that happened, they became our problem. Our tactics were pretty straightforward; I would occupy the defenders while Dawn sprinted in towards the central breeding pit; once there, she would use a couple of satchel charges to clean house. After that, she would rejoin me and we would fight our way out. If there were any survivors, they tended to get the idea that causing trouble was a bad thing to do.
Anyway, the first part of the plan went perfectly. I charged in silently and killed two before my presence was even suspected. This gave Dawn an opening; and, with her speed, more than enough time. I was doing my best to keep the exit clear; fortunately for me, they kept showing up in ones and twos, not as a group.
I felt the ground shake under me, and knew that the central pit and the spawn were toast. I felt Dawn coming towards me, but I could also feel a large mob on her heels. I reached into my coat and drew my pistol. I tossed it to her as she darted past me. Then, together, we made our way towards the exit.
She was doing a good job of keeping the mob of them at bay, using the prepared cylinders to keep up a good rate of fire. Occasionally one or two would charge in while she was reloading, and then I would have the privilege of terminating their existence. The mob was still pretty big, and I knew she was running low on ammo; when things went wrong.
The last cylinder she had, jammed up while she was putting it on the gun; and now she was trying to get it to work. With the gunfire eliminated, the demons took heart and advanced steadily. Fortunately we were in a narrow corridor, so I didn't have to deal with more than three at a time, but they kept coming. I was falling back faster than I had been before. My swords were moving faster and I was fighting better than I could ever remember; I guess necessity will do that to you. But there was still a boatload of them, and I knew that I couldn't keep this up very long, mentally, I was yelling for Dawn to put down the gun and help me. But she just kept plugging away, trying to fix that pistol.
My swords were glowing brightly and moving at a furious pace. I could not believe how many of them I was slaughtering, but they just kept coming, and Dawn kept trying to fix that pistol. My yells for assistance had gotten pretty strident, because I could feel myself getting tired. They were getting closer to me, and I believe that they could see I was winding down. Dawn just wouldn't draw her sword; I come to the realization that she will only use the guns and right now they're not working, so I'm essentially on my own.
Then things go from bad to worse. The demons wee fighting three across, because that was all that could fit in the passageway. I parried an attack from the demon on my left, and used my right handed sword to thrust through the chest of the one in the center. It gave a violent spasm when it died and as I turned to block an attack from the demon on the right, I realized that there was no sword in my hand. This was very bad.
I could see the blow coming from the club the demon was using; I deflected it a bit with my arm, but it still had enough force to knock me back into Dawn and we both went down. One good thing was, it gave me a second of free time, so I could transfer my sword to my right hand, and with my left, pull Gabriel's dagger. Fortunately my right arm still worked well enough to wield my sword. I guess the pistol just needed a good jolt as well, because I was aware of the click of the cylinder sliding home, followed by the booming roar of the antique Colt. She emptied the gun in under five seconds, but each shot was on the mark; but they still kept coming. I stood there, braced for the attack; behind me I could feel Dawn finally pulling her sword, but she was so far back that she wasn't providing any real support. Mentally I was begging her to move foreword; but it was like pulling a reluctant tooth; she would come up tentatively, then scuttle back as soon as things looked a bit dicey.
My left arm was feeling like lead, and I had several minor cuts, and my right arm was barely functional, when the entrance was finally in sight. Whenever we do one of these jobs, the first thing we do is rig the entrance with explosives in case we need to discourage pursuit. I told Dawn to sprint back and prep the detonator. Surprisingly, she hesitated a second, asking if I was sure. I told her; most emphatically, that I was, and she dashed back to set the wires. I summoned the last bits of my strength and attacked, forcing the demons to fall back a bit; putting them on the defensive. This opened enough of a gap, so that there was space between us when I turned and ran. As I was diving out the entrance, Dawn set off the charges and the passage was blocked. We were safe.
I had taken quite a beating, my arm and all of the little wounds were adding up to one very huge pain. Groaning, I rolled over; truth be told, I was pretty darn ticked with Dawn right then, and I was preparing to share my thoughts on the matter. That plan went away as soon as I saw her. She was sitting by the detonator, head down, shaking like a Chihuahua in the snow. I could feel the guilt coming off her in waves. She was afraid, both of what I would say, and the close call that had just occurred. Anger forgotten, I went over to her and just held her in my arms as she cried.
"Ian, I'm so sorry, I nearly got you killed" she managed to gasp out between sobs. I could tell she was sure I'd leave her now.
"I've had closer calls, but what was that all about? I've never seen you like that."
Her crying had abated somewhat, "I just couldn't do it; every time I got close I could feel my wounds, see it happening again, believing that I was gonna get hurt." She broke down again.
"I know that you realize that hanging me out to dry is not a real viable option. So why did you still hang back when I was getting the stuffing beat out of me?"
I knew what was up, and I knew that she had to admit it to herself. I just sat there and dried her tears as her mouth moved, but no sound came out. Finally, "I was, was . . . . . scared" came out as barely a whisper. This admission set off a new wave of crying, and I could still feel the guilt she was carrying.
I raised her chin, so she was looking me in the eyes "don't you think I'm scared every time we go into action. You've seen the shakes I get after close calls; you know how I was when you were hurt; heck, every time you've been hurt. I don't expect you to be without fear; but I need you to not let fear run your life. You are an incredible person; as far as I'm concerned you are the perfect partner, the perfect woman and the other half of my soul. I will never, ever leave you; no matter what, I'm with you for good. Now, I don't want you to be afraid of me leaving, no matter what the circumstance; so please tell me when you're scared, and we can face that together, as we always do; and vanquish it."
She just clung to me, and I did not move. After a sweet eternity she pulled back a little; "I've heard that you believe that it was some insane stroke of luck that brought me to you. Now I've been thinking and I agree; it was lucky, just that I was the truly lucky one." She then proceeded to heal my wounds and my arm, and I did the same for her.
"I guess we both qualify as lucky" I said "so, ready to get back to work; lucky?"
She smiled and nodded; I pulled her up into my arms and we were off. We didn't care where, so long as we were together.
In terms of action, we had a pretty dull stretch. We spent a lot of our time working out and focusing on how to work together, trying to get that seamlessness back. By Memorial Day, we were officially at one hundred percent, both by ourselves and together. That was good, because with what was coming, we would need everything we had.
