Chapter Nineteen

Decisions

"You should have heard it, Bit!" Spike was almost giddy in his verbal and mental triumph over the Slayer as he turned in his seat to look at Dawn. "It was bloody fantastic! She never saw it coming!"

Dawn did not respond; she was gazing out the window, tears filling her eyes, but not falling. Frowning with worry, Spike reached back to take the hand resting on her leg. Without turning to look at him, Dawn automatically pulled her hand away. There was no anger in the gesture; she just did not want to be touched.

Concerned, Spike began, "Niblet?" but was stopped by Tara's gentle hand on his leg. He glanced at her questioningly, and her only response was an almost imperceptible shake of her head, as she kept her eyes focused on the road ahead of her.

Still frowning, Spike turned back around in his seat, trusting that Tara probably understood Dawn's feelings better than he could, and knew what she was doing. They rode the rest of the way in silence.

When they reached the apartment, Dawn walked in without a word and dropped down on the loveseat, her arms folded across her chest, staring with bright eyes at the black television screen.

"You know," Spike said dryly, holding out the remote control to her from where he stood beside the loveseat, "that works better if you turn it on, pet." Dawn ignored his outstretched hand, her mouth working with repressed emotion.

If he doesn't stop I'm going to cry and then I won't be able to stop! she thought, desperately avoiding his eyes. God, why can't he just leave me alone?

Tara was beckoning to him from her bedroom door with an outstretched hand, but he shook his head at her and walked into the kitchen. Tara looked anxious, but she closed the bedroom door to give them some privacy. Spike poured himself a mug of blood, and a glass of Pepsi for Dawn, glancing back at her as he did. She was still just sitting there in stony silence. He took his time pouring the drinks, as he still had absolutely no idea what to say to her.

Maybe Tara's right, he thought. Maybe she needs her space. Maybe I should just leave her alone to--

"Oh, sod it all!" he muttered to himself as he left the drinks on the counter and went to Dawn's side decisively.

Standing directly in front of her, arms crossed, he demanded, "What's this then, Bit? You gonna talk to me?"

"No!" Dawn spat out in irritation, standing up to move away from him.

As she stood, he pulled her forcefully into his arms and held her there.

Dawn was livid. "Let me go!" she snarled, pounding his chest with hard little fists, struggling against him as tears poured from her eyes. "Let go of me!"

But Spike only held her, his embrace not tightening, but remaining firm. "There, Bit. That's it. Go on, let it out," he spoke soothingly to her. "You don't have to fight it; let me be strong for you, pet!"

Losing control under the power of his voice, his arms, Dawn screamed, "Get your hands off me! I hate you!" as she continued to pound ineffectually and struggle to get free. "I hate you!"

Tara suddenly appeared in the doorway, an expression of alarm on her face. But at that moment, Dawn broke down completely, and her furiously flailing fists became desperately clutching fingers against his chest.

"I hate her! I hate her!" Dawn sobbed, collapsing against him. "Oh, my God, Spike! Spike!"

"I'm here, love. I've got you," he whispered, holding her close, rubbing her back with one hand as her tears flowed freely at last.

Suddenly she looked up at him with wide, guilt-stricken eyes. "Oh my God, Spike! I hit you! I hit you! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Her voice was barely a whisper; in her confused, panicked state she saw no difference between her sister's systematic abuse and her uncontrolled emotional reaction.

"No, no, Bit," he shook his head, frowning. "None of that, now. I've been through a lot worse than that, love." He paused, stroking a tear from her cheek with his thumb, compassion in his eyes. "You've been through a lot worse, pet." He pulled her back to him, whispering, "It's all right. It's all right, love. There now, Dawnie, that's all right. Go ahead."

As he spoke his eyes met Tara's over Dawn's head, and he was stunned and thrilled by the obvious adoration he saw there.

My baby, she sent the words to him in her mind. You are so much wiser than I am.

Just know her better, love, he corrected, shaking his head slightly. Been bottling up all that rage – trying not to cry and all that rot—well, bugger that! Bit had to lt it out.

She was still letting it out, sobbing out unintelligible words of hurt and anger and sorrow, now directed not at him, but at her sister, the true cause of her rage and pain. Still holding her, Spike led her to the loveseat and sat down with her, where she leaned her head on his chest as he gently ran his fingers through her hair.

Tara stood uncertainly in the bedroom doorway. Spike beckoned to her with one hand, and she hesitantly went to him, unsure if she should intrude on their moment. Slowly, she walked to Spike's side and sat down on the arm of the loveseat. Putting one arm around his shoulder, she reached cautiously to place her hand on Dawn's, afraid that the girl would pull it away. After all, they had been getting closer recently, but had nothing even approaching the bond Dawn shared with Spike.

But then Dawn clutched at her hand, gripping it tightly and pulling it in to rest, intertwined with her own, against Spike's chest. And suddenly all of Tara's fears dissipated with the warm glow of the connection the three of them now shared. They felt like a family, forged in pain and sorrow, but strong together. And together they would meet this challenge and find the solution.

An hour later, they were gathered around the books again, trying to find the solution. Now that Dawn was "missing" and Buffy could legitimately say that Spike had taken her – even that he had admitted taking her – it was not safe for either of them to go out at all. Tara had told Buffy that she had to work, and couldn't be at the Scoobie meeting that night, but she could just imagine how that went.

If Willow's decline along Reyem's course was anything like Buffy's, they could be sure that getting her to reverse the ritual would be a near impossibility. There had to be another way, and they were determined to find it.

"Maybe we should try calling Giles," Tara suggested.

Spike scoffed, "Watcher-Boy? Please! If he even knows anything about this Reyem beastie, do you think he's going to listen to me and you over the Slayer and Red?"

Tara shrugged. "It couldn't hurt to try."

"Yes," Spike said slowly, drawing out the word in an overly patient way. "it could. I can't call him; he'd never trust me. If Dawn called him he'd just think she was panicking over nothing, treat her like a child. And if you call, love…granted, you've got a bit more credibility than either of us…but still…don't you think whatever you tell him he's gonna wanna check it out with Buffy? And then the secret's out, and this place is not longer safe."

Tara was silent as she thought it through. "You're right," she sighed. "It's too big a risk. Well, there's got to be something we're overlooking."

"There is," Dawn said suddenly from her place on the floor. There was a brief pause as both Tara and Spike looked at her. Her eyes were wide with a growing realization.

"What is it, Dawnie?" Tara asked softly, concerned by the look in Dawn's eyes.

"You said only the person that this Reyem thing is in can get rid of it, right?" Dawn asked cautiously.

"Well…yes."

"So…then Buffy could do it, too, right? Not just Willow?"

Tara's eyes widened. "I don't know. I hadn't thought about that." She paused, thinking. "The ritual requires the blood and will of the host…that would be Buffy, too, yeah. But she'd have to want to, Sweetie…"

"And she's too far gone, pet," Spike finished, reaching to place his hand comfortingly on Dawn's shoulder.

Dawn shook her head, excitement in her eyes. "I know…but…this may sound crazy, but…in this weird cosmic way that I don't really understand…I sort of…am Buffy! The monks made me from her, right? Our blood is the same. She jumped in my place and it worked—it closed the portal! So why couldn't I do the reversal ritual?"

Spike and Tara met each other's eyes. His were full of astonished excitement; hers were filled with apprehension.

"That just might work," Spike murmured, his eyes wide, thinking it through.

Tara nodded slowly. "But the ritual—Dawnie, it's hard, and it's painful, and it's very dangerous."

"And sitting here hiding from my own sister so she doesn't decide to go psycho and kill me—that's not at all painful or dangerous," Dawn pointed out, eyebrows raised, arms crossed.

"She's got a point there, love," Spike admitted with a shrug. "It may be the only way."

Tara was silent for a moment. She took a deep breath, then said softly, "There's more."

"What?" Dawn asked, frowning, seeing the hesitation in her eyes.

Tara seemed to be struggling for words. "The reversal will not be easy on Buffy or Willow, either. With Willow – it's hard to say what it will do her, exactly. Emotionally, mentally, it could break her completely to have this thing that's so intertwined with her self ripped out – there's no telling if she'll even be…" She paused, shaking her head, searching for the word.

"Her?" Spike finished quietly, his eyes serious, and Tara nodded slowly.

Dawn took that in before asking in a voice of steel, "What about Buffy?"

Tara took a moment to gather her words before she said softly, "Willow used this thing to give Buffy back her life. Without it she couldn't have come back. If it is taken out of her…" She couldn't finish.

"You're saying Buffy could die," Dawn broke in, tears shining in her eyes. "Again," she added in a whisper.

Reaching out to take her hand, Tara said softly, "You don't have to do this, Dawnie. It's dangerous, it's a lot of risk, so much could go wrong. It's really too much to ask of you. We'll find another way."

Spike was silent. He agreed with Tara; this truly was too much to ask of the girl, and he did not want to push her into doing it. But he couldn't help but think…

"What if there is no other way?" Dawn spoke calmly now, meeting Tara's eyes with determination beyond her years.

Tara's gaze faltered under the intensity in her eyes. "There may not be," she admitted. "If Reyem is allowed to stay in them much longer – they'll be virtually unstoppable. Through them, he'll destroy everything and everyone around them, and in the end, destroy them too."

There was silence for a moment before Dawn spoke quietly. "I need to think. I need to be alone."

Tara gestured toward her room and nodded her permission.

Silently Dawn got up and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.