Title: If I should die before we wake
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or situations, or concepts, or anything, really.
Summary: After the events described in Deconstructing Hell Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike's life. You should read DH first.
Rating: Um, gee, I don't know? The new rating system is confusing! Let's just say Teen, to be on the safe side.
A/N: I'm a NaNoWriMo. Taking the challenge, writing a novel in November. That means there won't be ANY updates in November. None. Period. Sorry. You'll have to make do with this tidbit.
Chapter Four: If I knew then what I know now
Illyria was sitting on the sofa facing the door of the tiny apartment they all shared when it burst open and Spike staggered through, followed by Andrew and Dana. Spike was barely able to stand, wobbling, covered with blood, an aggravated expression on his face.
"I'm sorry!" Andrew pleaded, wiping blood out of his eyes. "It was my first golem; I had no idea it would happen!"
"I'm not talking to you," said Spike coldly, throwing himself down on the sofa beside Illyria.
Illyria was wearing blue jeans and a blue sweater, and although her skin was now a nearly normal pale shade, with no blue shading or mottles, her hair was still streaked with bright blue strands. She looked nearly normal.
"As I surmised," she said coldly. "The golem's natural magics were tainted by the very beasts it was designed to destroy. Such a magical design is unstable, Andrew Wells."
Andrew stared at her. "But it was such a cool idea!" he whined.
Dana sighed. "Exploding blood bombs aren't exactly the best way to kill vampires," she said to Illyria.
The former God-King of the Universe said nothing, merely yawning quietly, raising a hand to her mouth genteelly. "We have a visitor," she said quietly, allowing herself a languid blink.
Spike was suddenly filled with energy, standing upright and fidgeting with a cigarette lighter. "Dawn is here?"
"I put her in the guest room," said Illyria calmly, folding both her hands in her lap.
Dana looked between the two, wondering if they were communicating telepathically. It wouldn't surprise her. The two of them often communed that way right in front of everybody, using their psychic bonds as a way to exclude others.
But right now all she could see was tension on Spike's face. She looked to Andrew, hoping he would defuse it, but he seemed even more tense than Spike.
Between the two of them Illyria sat calmly, gazing at the blood stains where Spike had sat. "You're cleaning that up," said Illyria, still icily calm.
Spike glowered. "What's eating you?" he asked.
Illyria looked up at him. Her jaw tightened suddenly, quickly, and Dana almost took a step back. "If we continue on our current course, you will die. It is obvious."
"Bloody obvious!" snorted Spike.
The blue demon watched him, and now her brow was furrowing. "There are ways and means, pet."
Dana gave a start. Although Illyria used the word with a slightly different intonation, it was still odd to hear one of Spike's words—or the words she thought of as Spike's because only he could use them as he did—come out of somebody else's mouth.
Spike's frown deepened, and he opened his mouth, a bitter retort on the edge of his too-sharp tongue. Then he relented, the frown fading into a smile. "Like that, is it? Tired of the way all this is going, want to retire?"
Illyria tilted her head at him. "Your words say one thing, your demeanor another. You seek to goad me because you are full of fear that this final death will be the end to all you've worked for."
Spike shrugged. "After I'm dead Connor will be the only one on this plane with the power and knowledge to anchor you. Your powers and his combined should be truly spectacular."
"Your apparent fatalism is belied by the turmoil I can sense," said Illyria.
Spike sighed, rubbing his face with one long-fingered hand, rubbing as if he might scratch off the surface and find a winning number beneath, mused Dana.
She couldn't understand why he was fighting with Illyria, but she did understand what Illyria was saying. Spike was trying to look ready to die so that everyone else could watch without crying, without feeling so bad. But it was a bad act, and it tore Dana up inside.
Dana heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up. She had met the lithe, graceful woman who came down the stairs before, she knew, but she had never appreciated then the aura of command and cool assurance that surrounded the woman.
"You're not going to die, Spike. Not as long as I have my Slayers to stop it," said Dawn Summers, and her voice was so coolly commanding that Dana decided instantly that the other girl was right.
Spike's jaw clenched, and before he could stop for a second thought, or perhaps even a first, he whirled to face her. "Little Dawn the wonder-Watcher come to save the day, then? Hoorah, perhaps all her wonderful skills pushing a pencil will help where the incredible powers of darkness, light and beige have failed!"
Dana was beginning to appreciate Andrew's fanboy obsession more than she liked. Watching these two stare at each other was a wonderful thing. Both of them had a power about them, a presence that filled the room. Dana could only watch as they stared at each.
Spike broke first, looking down and away. "It's good to see you," he choked out. "I'm glad you came." It wasn't an apology, but Dana recognized that it was halfway to being one—close enough that Dawn recognized it.
"You know I've never been one for giving up," said Dawn quietly.
Spike shook his head, still looking away. "Yeah, you Summers' and your tenacity," and even though there was poison in his words he was quieter now, as if the fight had gone out of him.
Illyria was eyeing Dawn closely. "And when they dream again, what will you do?" she hissed.
"Play nice," said Spike absently, still staring at a spot on the wall blankly, as if it was of utmost importance.
Illyria stood, her face mottling with blue as her temper rose. Somehow it made Dana think of a smurf, and she barely held back the laugh that bubbled in her throat.
Illyria faced Dawn, squaring her shoulders. "I think you misunderstand," said the demon icily. Andrew was staring, apparently awestruck.
"She views you as a threat, Dawn!" yelled Andrew suddenly. "You control the Slayers and they killed Spike in the vision!" He jumped forward, grabbing Illyria by the arm to try and wrestle her away.
Illyria casually brushed Andrew off. "The dwarf has the truth of it," she muttered grudgingly. "You are the force he should fear, not welcome. You will be his undoing."
Spike sighed. "Little chance of that, love." He shook himself out of his daze, looking at Illyria meaningfully. "Play nice."
And now Dana knew they were communicating telepathically. Illyria's face twisted sharply, and she stared at Spike, a range of emotions playing across her face. Fear. Terror. Something very close to love. And, finally, resignation.
The former God-king of the universe stepped back, acquiescing to her high priest. "This is right, that is wrong, but there's never a sensible reason," she muttered.
Dana rocked back on her heels. She knew what Spike would say next, knew that he would launch into his speech about right and wrong. It was what held them together, he would say. The thin line they had to hold or else slide slowly into darkness.
Spike glanced almost shyly at Dawn, hesitantly. He looked down at the floor. "Too right," he sighed.
Dana was shocked. How could this slip of a girl cause him to lose that unshakable self-confidence? She knew that death hadn't managed it, but apparently Dawn Summers and all her self-assurance could.
Dawn was squinting at Spike as if she had never seen him before. "What did she say to you? In your head?" she asked, and Dana could see that Dawn was more worried about the way Spike had reacted, thinking that he was reacting to Illyria.
But she couldn't make him react that way. Even when she'd killed the man (it was his own fault; if he hadn't shot at Andrew, it would never have happened) Spike had only managed a slight sorrow, and then only with a considerable effort.
"Nothin," muttered Spike, wandering towards the stairs. "I'll be in the shower."
Illyria sat down slowly on the couch, staring at Dawn as if she were a bug. After Spike was gone she spoke again.
"He has a great love for you, but I will kill you before I will see you harm him."
Dawn stared at her as if what she'd said was somehow the best and worst thing she'd ever heard. "For Spike, you'd kill me? But would you die for him?"
Illyria sniffed. "I already did that once, and it was very boring. And it didn't work, exactly. I would much prefer the other way."
Dawn stared at Illyria, who shifted her own attention to the stain on the couch. Dana went to the closet and fetched a sponge and a bucket.
"I'll get that," said Andrew nervously, still rubbing his arm where Illyria's arm had bumped into him as she pushed him away. He took the sponge and bucket from Dana and headed for the kitchen.
"No," said Illyria. "It's not fair that you should clean Spike's mess up. He must learn to clean his own messes up."
Andrew was in agony.
Dawn was right there, the woman he loved. The woman he wanted to marry.
She hadn't noticed him, and all her attention was fixed on Spike.
Worse, Spike didn't know that he and Dawn had been together. Spike, the most viciously overprotective person he knew, who had nearly torn the head off the guy who had tried to flirt with Dana in the bar. Of course, with Dana it was different. She was a victim of abuse, and she had become very uncomfortable.
Which had nearly been enough to make Spike fly into a berserker rage.
To say he was in agony was like saying that the Hindenberg had a slight problem with the fuel mixture.
His palms were sweaty as he cleaned the couch, contrary to Illyria's wishes. He knew if they waited for Spike to clean it the couch would smell. Illyria had wandered upstairs, and Dawn and Dana were talking quietly in the kitchen.
He wondered if Dawn would just say something casually to Spike letting him know that the two had slept together and the ex-vampire would tear his head off from behind, or if Spike would just put it together with his usual inimitable intuition and tear his head off from behind.
Either way, his head was not long for his body.
"Andrew, why are you nervous?" asked a voice by his ear.
He jumped, looking back reproachfully at Illyria, who had descended the stairs behind him and was standing with her arms crossed. "Don't sneak up on me!" he begged.
She arched a bluish eyebrow. "I asked you not to clean the couch. Would you have Spike always be dependent on us to keep his house in order? That would be a great evil to put on his head. Better that he should learn. Why are you nervous?"
"Quiet!" hissed Andrew, looking up the stairs in terror.
Illyria chuckled. "Your terror is amusing to me." Then her face hardened. "Unfortunately, your terror can also mean that something terrible is about to fall on all of us because you have done something reprehensible. Will that be the case now?"
"No! No!"
Illyria moved closer, looking away from him into the kitchen. "Dawn is an extremely pretty young lady, is she not? Do you harbor perverse sexual lust for her?"
Andrew felt like he was in fifth grade again. "What?"
Illyria sighed. "I cannot seem to get the hang of your slang, your lingo. You and Spike often make jokes based on popular culture, yet mine seem to fall flat."
"Er."
"I am asking if it is her presence that has caused your nervousness, Andrew." Illyria turned back to him, icy blue eyes boring deep into him. "I have learned much from Spike in terms of interpersonal relationships between humans, but bond pairings are always confusing. You and she have shared some bond in the past, have you not?"
"Why, why do you say…? What would lead you to conclude…?"
"I am not blind, Andrew."
She was right. She had learned a lot from Spike. Intuitive leaps that baffled Andrew, the ability to read minds…
He swallowed. "I'm worried that Spike might not take well to the idea."
Illyria nodded. "This young woman meant a great deal to him. I'm not sure of the details, but it is clear that they went through a lot together. He is a protective person, overly so at times. He would kill a man in a minute if he even thought they might try to harm Dana, who is well able to take care of herself. You worry that this might manifest as violence towards yourself."
Andrew felt a flood of relief that she understood. "Yes, yes! So you won't tell him?"
Illyria gave a hefty sigh. "Andrew, you and the others here are often not completely open with each other. In my experience this invariably leads to pain and what you and Spike call 'hijinks.' I have come to care for Spike a great deal during my time here, and for Dana, and even for you. I will not tell him, but I advise you to tell him."
Andrew felt a cold shiver go up his spine at the words. Tell Spike? Suicidal.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Spike came down the stairs loudly, his hair tousled and a towel over his shoulders. He wore a tight white tee and sweatpants, and he was barefoot. "Blue, let's you an' me have a little chat, eh?" he said tightly.
Andrew felt his heart constrict. About him and Dawn? Or something else?
But Illyria simply frowned. "What have you been up to?" she asked suspiciously.
"I was just thinking, okay? And I called Harm. That's all."
"I do not trust the vampire," sniffed Illyria, looking away to the floor.
Spike hopped down the stairs and took Illyria by the shoulders, forcing her to face him. "Neither do I, but I do know her. Look, pet, you and me, we need to be smart, okay? If you want to keep me alive, you can. As long as our plans don't involve killing Slayers, I'm happy. I've beat fate before, and we can do it again."
Illyria smiled, a warm smile that Andrew had never seen on her face before. "Yes, I agree. We can keep you alive and keep them alive." She grabbed Spike into a rough hug, holding tightly onto him. Andrew could see her fingers digging into his back, and he returned the hug with equal force.
Andrew could have sworn he could see Illyria's back shaking, as if she was crying or laughing.
"Um, hey," said Dawn from the door. "I don't want to interrupt anything…"
Dana put a hand on Dawn's shoulder. "Don't interrupt. Those two are very emotionally constipated; I think we'll all be happier if they are."
Spike gave a final squeeze to Illyria's shoulders, and turned to Dawn with a smile. "Alright, Nibblet, why don't we all sit down and have a pow-wow? Figure out how to save my life?"
Dawn smiled. "Sounds good to me."
Dana scowled. "Lies and lying liars. What have you done with the real Spike?"
Spike chuckled. "Fresh perspective. Showers do wonders. You should try them, fruit-loop."
Dana smiled. Being called pet names by Spike was a rank of honor. A special treat, for her. "The shower water hates me." Everyone stopped moving and turned to stare at her. "It's a joke! Because he called me fruit-loop!"
Spike smiled. "Well, jokes. That's a new trick for you, isn't it?"
Dawn cleared her throat. "So, shall we talk about the problem? Do some research?"
"Not much research to do, pet," said Spike, sitting down on the freshly cleaned spot on the couch, pulling Illyria down beside him. She curled up next to him, laying her head on his shoulder contentedly.
Dawn's jaw clenched at the tableau, and she sat down in the chair opposite them. "You seem somewhat conflicted about actually fighting this."
Spike shrugged. "That would be because I am conflicted. I don't want my survival to be too important—I don't want to cause the Slayers more trouble. I don't want to kill any more. I've already killed far too many."
"Pun on two," said Dana, sitting down on the other side of Illyria. Andrew stayed standing, hovering nervously beside Dana.
"Pun's happen," said Spike. "Anyway, the solution has to be something that involves me just not getting into that position. If we get to the point where I'm in that position, I'm going to just let them kill me. Everybody gets that, right? We get to that point, it's finished. I don't want anybody else here killing Slayers for me."
Dana and Illyria both scowled at him. That seemed to infuriate Dawn.
"We're all working for the same goal here, Spike. I don't want anybody to die."
"Well, except bad people," said Dana, smiling. "And people who talk on their cell phones in theatres."
"Too right!" said Spike. "Bloody annoying! I mean, are they a doctor, or an undercover superhero? No, they just want to have a chat with some person! Well, death is too good for them!"
Dawn smirked. "Still working on those grey areas, huh?"
"Nothing grey about it!" said Spike. "Those blokes are evil! Out and out evil!"
Illyria straightened up. "You're getting sidetracked," she said, poking Spike in the ribs. He squirmed, and she rolled slightly, turning her back to him and facing Dana, lifting her legs into Dana's lap. Dana glanced at her, surprised, but Illyria kicked off against the side of the couch, pushing Spike off.
He sprawled on the floor, surprised. She took his spot with some glee. "Now, to business."
Spike glowered up at her. "Your concern for me overwhelms, pet." He stood up, leaning against the wall.
Dana was used to their physicality with each other. Dawn apparently wasn't, judging from the ever-stormier look on her face. "Can we talk strategy?" she asked.
"Not really," said Illyria. "The Slayer dreams were unclear as to what causes this."
"Well, I think we need to ask ourselves what Spike is doing right now," said Dawn. "What could cause this?"
Spike laughed. "The general destruction of Wolfram and Hart and my roving hero-at-large routine aren't a problem, are they?" he asked.
Dawn carefully pulled her brown hair over her shoulder and brushed it flat with her fingers. "What else are you guys doing?"
"Well," said Illyria, pressing her fingertips together in a steeple in front of her mouth to cover a smile. "We also have various sugar-fueled hijinks."
"And movie night!" added Dana.
Andrew was starting to question the sanity of his team. Dawn had a pained expression on her face, one that he could identify with all too well. "Nothing else?" she asked politely.
Spike frowned. "You grew up, pet, but I never did," he said. She looked at him, surprised. "Oh, it was all over your face. How can he be so immature? Well, I've always been, and always will. Part of my bad-boy charm. Like a little kid, and in need of nurturing, aren't I?"
Andrew frowned, but Illyria gave a little smirk and hugged her knees, watching Spike.
"I don't know what that has to do with the situation," said Dawn.
"Oh, nothing. But it has everything to do with us, y'know."
Dawn sighed. "I'm more worried about the things in your life that may be bringing us towards a place where you're my enemy, Spike."
"And that's it, right there. I'm not a grown-up, and I'm not going to get invited to the grown-ups table. And you should know that, if you don't. And that's going to be a sticking point, isn't it?"
Dawn scowled. "That's not what's going to bring you head to head with us."
"No, it's not. But it's why I'll die when we do. Now." Spike's eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you want to know? You want to know how we track vampires? Or how Illyria and Andrew do their financial hoodoo to find surviving Dubya and Aitch branch offices so we can take them down? Or maybe you just really want to know about my government contacts."
Dawn shrugged. "Well, you've always got on with the government better than we have. Here in America, anyway. I don't really get that, since we were literally in bed with them."
"See, not so smart," said Illyria. "Even I know that sex complicates things rather than making them easier."
Dawn scowled at her. "Anyway, what else have you been doing? Seriously, I think there must be something, no matter how innocuous. I need to know every possible detail of your operations."
"There is something I think you should know," said Dana, glancing to Andrew. Illyria and Spike both turned and glared at them.
"What?" said Dawn.
Dana sighed. "Our other mission."
"That's it, Dana's a traitor. No more popcorn for her on movie night," said Spike moodily. "Let me tell it, okay, pumpkin?"
"I'm a pumpkin now?"
"The great pumpkin. Look, platelet, this one may be hard for you to understand, but it's probably the most important bit of all."
"It's not that hard to understand," muttered Andrew.
"It's just a test program!" snarled Spiked. "Nothing's come of it yet."
"The government gave us information on a secret society dedicated to destroying evil," said Andrew apologetically. "We've been trying to join them. Kind of an infiltrate thing, kind of a recruit thing."
Dawn sighed. "That might be something," she said thoughtfully. "They might have a hidden evil agenda, and since you didn't tell us we might have misinterpreted that."
"You see!" said Illyria loudly, looking at Andrew. "Openness! Honesty!"
