Domestic Shadows
By SinisterChic & MsQuey
A/N: This story follows cannon up until our hero's final battle with the First. From there on, for the sake of this fic, the plot line is completely AU except for the fact that the Scoobies and Potentials still kick the First's evil ass and Sunnydale collapses in on itself. Just forget that Spike ever died . . . or that he ended up at sodding Wolfram & Hart with that poof Angel. (Sorry, channeling Spike. evil eyebrow grin)
Disclaimer: Neither SinisterChic nor MsQuey own any of the original characters of BtVS. They intend no copyright infringement and humbly ask that those that do own them do not sue them . . . You wouldn't get much anyway. They do however claim ownership to any and all original characters introduced within this story.
Chapter 3
Dawn woke up late that morning, but then again, that really wasn't unusual for her. "At least this morning I have an excuse," she mumbled groggily, as she pushed the covers down and tossed her legs over the edge of the bed. She'd spent hours sitting with Buffy last night as she waited for Spike to come home. It wasn't until the first rays of sun started showing over the frosty horizon that Dawn could finally convince her to go to bed. But even then she wasn't altogether sure that Buffy had actually slept.
"Wait, what the hell was it that woke me up?" And as if in answer, Dawn heard a crash followed closely by a peal of laughter. "Ugh, please. Not another demon," she threw her head back, whining to whoever was listening. "Its too early . . . and we're RETIRED NOW!"
Still in her pajamas, Dawn flatfooted down the hall, making sure her presence was known to whoever or whatever was invading their home. On her way, she pounded on Buffy's door. "Rise and shine, Buffy! We've got visitors . . . Grab your axe." She heard a muffled noise that sounded something like a half-awake protest. "Just get up!" she cried impatiently. Again Dawn received a subhuman response from Buffy. "Fine," she sighed, "I'll kill it myself."
Thank the PTB that the Summers women still had a weapons chest (which had a very nice duel functionality as a coffee table) in the living room. Dawn heard more movement and giggles coming from the kitchen and she grabbed a crossbow from the arsenal as she inched toward the sound. But just before she reached the threshold she paused. Did she smell bacon? And as she listened she heard the crackling noise that indeed could only come from the cooking of pork flesh.
"That you, nibblet?"
Dawn breathed a heavy sigh of relief and went into the kitchen. Spike was standing at the stove poking at a couple strips of bacon. "I thought I said I'd stake you the next time you—" She was stopped in the middle of her threat by what was sitting on top of the kitchen table. Or rather who. "Uh, Spike? Where'd she come from?"
"I'm Rebecca," said the little girl as she swung her legs back and forth. "You're pretty."
Dawn made an involuntary, "Awww," but then snapped out of it. "Where did she come from, Spike?"
"Trust me, wasn't my choice to bring her here," he said heavily. "I found her last night just after a vamp killed her mum." He turned off the stove and placed the cooked bacon onto an already waiting plate. "The bastard had already killed her dad, apparently. I couldn't just leave her in the alley."
"It wasn't a bastard, Mr. Spike. It was a vampire."
"Great, Spike." Dawn scolded, with her hands on her hips, foot tapping. One might wonder who the teenager was and who the century old demon was. "Way to go with the language."
He rolled his eyes at her. "Just get her some orange juice, would yah," he said as he went over to table with the little girl's bacon.
"She can't stay here, you know." Spike gave her a look and motioned for her to step out into the hall. Dawn complied reluctantly.
"What was I supposed to do with her? Take her to the police station and say, 'Hey, found this bit in an alley just after a vampire sucked all the blood from her mum's neck. Oh, could you s'cuse me? I hav'ta get outta the sunlight before I go poof!'"
Dawn was about to come back with what she was sure would be a stinging remark but the sound of her sister coming down the hall stole it from her lips instantly. Spike visibly tensed. "Don't hear any screaming," Buffy called lazily from around the corner. "So I guess that means you killed it." She emerged, still in her pajamas and slippers, flipping through a copy of Vogue and not watching where she was going. "I hope there isn't too much mess to clean up, because I so do not relish cleaning duty this morn—" She bumped right into Spike, who instinctively put his hands on her shoulders to keep her from tripping. Buffy looked up, stunned and then backed away from his touch. "You're back. I didn't think you were coming back," she stammered, unable to stop staring, perhaps fearful that he might disappear again if she looked away. Spike, on the other hand, averted his gaze to the floor.
Dawn felt like she was intruding on a private moment but there was still an orphaned little girl eating bacon in their breakfast nook. "Uh, Buffy," Dawn spoke quietly and tentatively. "We've got a little bit of a problem."
This is just too much, Buffy thought as she looked from the little girl, now giggling at a cartoon, to Spike who leaned against the wall looking uncomfortable.
"Does this mean you're staying?" she asked flatly.
"For now," he said. "At least until I figure out what to do with the bit."
"What are we going to do with her?"
"You're not doing anything," he corrected. "I'm the one who found 'er. I'll figure it out. Never you mind about that."
"You don't know how to take care of child, Spike."
He snorted, indignantly. "What? And you do?"
"I know a helluva lot more than a vampire does!" she retorted but then she felt a tug on her shirt sleeve. She looked down and saw the little girl standing at her side. "I'm sorry, Rebecca," Buffy said, kneeling down in front of her. "We didn't mean to argue in front of you."
"I think I saw you in my dreams too," she said. "'Cept you didn't look mad in the dream. You were happy." She leaned in and whispered into Buffy's ear. "You were kissing Mr. Spike." Buffy blushed violently, which made Rebecca start with the giggling again.
"Oy, what'd she say then?" he asked, raising a scarred eyebrow.
Rebecca covered her mouth, trying not to laugh while Buffy stood again and tried to pass off her embarrassment with a cough. "Nothing . . . Rebecca, why don't you go into the kitchen and see what Dawn is doing. Maybe she needs some help drying the dishes." Rebecca nodded with an impish smile and left the room.
"She said that something was after her," Spike said when he thought the child was out of earshot. "I don't think that kid's normal."
"Apparently not," she stated as she turned the television off, glad for the excuse not to have to look at him. No, it wasn't normal that this child had had a dream where she was kissing Spike. It was like lemon juice on a paper cut; it stung like hell.
"Do you think she's a witch, like Red?" he asked.
"Maybe. But, clairvoyant or psychic would be more my guess." To that Spike raised an eyebrow again but he didn't have the chance to comment. "Are we going to talk about last night, or what?" she barreled on.
"Last night," he responded flatly.
"Yes," she said, looking him in the eye. "Before you went off to play hero."
He pressed his lips into a thin line and blew unneeded air out of his nostrils in frustration. "Damn, woman! Why do yeh have to go and cut me like that?"
"Me? I cut you? Where the hell do you get off? I'm not the one who did the kissing and then . . . and then the leaving!" She glared at him, waiting for him to come back at her, but he didn't. He just stood there and took it. It just pissed her off even more. "Say something!"
Finally, Spike pushed away from the wall and began walking toward her. There was a resolve face there that would have made Willow proud. "No. I'm not gonna say a thing about it." He stopped a foot away from her. "We're not doing this. Not right now." He pointed toward the kitchen. "We've got bigger problems."