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: T, because Spike is violent, rude, crude, and the bad guys are worse. Well, that's a lie. The bad guys are never worse than Spike.
Chapter Four: Pulpy bits in the middle
The small sedan tooling down the road was headed for Des Moines, Iowa, and was only a few hundred mile off now.
Barclay lit a cigarette, opening his window and holding it outside after a few puffs, letting the harsh smell waft through the car.
Lucy, riding shotgun, scowled at him. "Those things will kill you," she told him.
"Indeed," he muttered.
In the back seat the tall lizard-like demon shifted. "Actually, Lucy, Barclay has good information suggesting that he will die of a stabbing not long after his fortieth birthday. It's a prophecy."
Lucy rolled her eyes. "Right, prophecy. Like the prophecy that a vampire with a soul with become human? Only there's another vampire with a soul."
The demon scowled, harsh planes shifting on his demonic mask. "Please do not make fun of my interpretation of the prophecy, Lucy. I'm trying very hard to make sense of this all."
Barclay tossed his cigarette out the window. "Would you stop arguing? We're nearly there, and I'd like some quiet."
Lucy rolled her eyes. "You don't have to be so grumpy all the time, you know."
"The world around me is descending into chaos, there's an ex-vampire out there who may be the key to ending the world, and you want me to be less grumpy?"
"You forgot the bit about a secret society of vampires who worships the ex-vampire," said the demon.
--
After the others had gone to bed Dawn and Spike were still sitting quietly in the den, drinking hot chocolate and quietly discussing the situation.
"I don't think more Slayers is the answer to preventing my demise," Spike said dryly when she suggested bodyguards.
"There are other bodyguards available to you, and you know it."
"Ah, you mean the soldier-boy and his lot? Sorry, love… I don't trust them that much."
She was quiet for a long moment, stirring the dark drink in front of her. "You do understand what I was driving at with those questions earlier, don't you?" she asked finally.
He sighed. "No, I'm not really as dumb as I make out to be sometimes. Yes, I got it."
"Spike…"
"Look, I understand you think my relationship with Blue is what's going to cause this crisis. But you remember what I said about dying before I'd lift a hand against a Slayer? That goes for her too."
Dawn sighed deeply, letting her spoon fall into the cup and rubbing her forehead. "Spike, she's a demon. A soulless demon. Ring any bells?"
Spike managed a weak smile. "Yeah, love. Been there."
"That's not what I meant."
And if the silence between them wasn't quite uncomfortable, it wasn't quite comfortable. It stretched on, and neither of them wanted to break it with more arguing. Spike kept his blue eyes pointed down.
Dawn thought that they seemed softer since he had become human. Or maybe that was just the soul.
"It's not just because of Buffy that I don't want to kill Slayers, you know," said Spike moodily. "People are always assuming that."
"I didn't assume that."
"That's cause you're smart."
She frowned at him, surprised by the casual compliment. That seemed very unlike the Spike she had known, yet another difference that had surprised her.
When he had claimed he had changed, he was right. And it continually surprised her. It shouldn't have. Demons didn't change, but humans did. Ever since he had got the soul he had been changing, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly.
He had been wrong, she realize with a start, when he had claimed that she had grown up and he hadn't. He had been growing up, centuries too late. He had been consciously choosing a better course for years now, and she hadn't seen it.
Spike was frowning into his cup. "I can't make it as good as Blue can. She's got a good hand for cooking. And math. Bits of Fred that she kept, she says."
Dawn felt the quiet alarm in her head going off again. "So now we're going to discuss what parts of the host she murdered your demon lover kept?"
Spike's scowl deepened. "That statement was so wrong I can't even begin to… I'll have to take these one at a time, okay?" She nodded. "One." He extended his middle finger at her. "I am not sleeping with her. Two. She never meant to kill Fred. Someone else did that. And three, … no, two covers it."
"Spike, I've got eyes, okay? I saw you two together."
Spike scowled at her. "Okay, fine. Don't believe me."
She rolled her eyes. "Why don't you try holding your breath, Spike?"
He stood up, dropping his mug carelessly in the sink. "I'm going to bed."
Dana stumbled down the stairs behind him, sweaty and disheveled. Her shirt was twisted around, and her sweatpants were riding up nearly to her knees. She was staring at Spike, a slightly disturbed look on her face. Dawn ignored her.
"Spike, we still haven't found a solution."
"The problem will still be there when I wake up," he grumbled.
Dana let out a yell and launched herself at him, knocking him to the ground. Dawn let out a shriek, surprised and shocked by the suddenness of the violent attack.
Dana straddled Spike, slamming blows down on him that could bend steel and shatter iron. "Stop it stop it stop it!" she screamed, continuing to slam blows into his skinny back.
Then he twisted, knocking her away from him with one arm that swung around wildly, knocking her back and onto her side. Then he was up on his feet, facing her, both hands raised warily, defensively. "Don't go nuts on me, fruitloop," he said, his voice surprisingly calm and gentle.
But his brow was drawn down in a deep scowl, and Dawn could see the shaking in his hands. The rage behind his eyes.
Dana came up swinging at him. He caught the blow, turning her around and immobilizing her. She struggled even harder at that, trying to get her arms free.
"Gonna hit me again?" asked Spike tightly. She responded by swinging her free arm down, aiming at his crotch. He blocked her with one leg, pushing her away from himself suddenly, sending her sprawling.
"Alright, fruit loop!" he snarled, hopping back and drawing his hands together in a nearly relaxed pose. His eyes were dark. "You want to take a shot? You want to kill me? You're gonna have to try harder."
Illyria, who had crept down the stairs and was sitting halfway down, shook her head. "I believe she has seen another Slayer vision and now believes that you will kill them, not the other way around."
"I knew it!" said Dawn, scowling. "I knew your way wasn't working! It's just making things worse."
Spike stood frozen in place, the color draining from his face and his shoulders slumping. The fiery depths of his eyes started to glaze over, and he lowered his hands. "It's not fair," he muttered. "It's never fair. Every time I try to make things right this starts to happen all over again."
Dawn moved forward, pointing a finger at Dana. "We can fix this. It's only a possibility, not a fact. A warning that whatever our first fix was, it's not working."
Illyria snorted. "There's a surprise. You should have listened to me."
Spike glared at her. "Do you see me laughing, pet?"
"Things never go your way, and yet you always seem to think you are in control. Your plans are foolish at best, yet you always make the plans."
"Would you like to do this? Be the leader?"
Dana shoved Dawn away and attacked Spike while his back was turned, knocking him down. Illyria leapt forward, swinging her body around to kick Dana, throwing her across the room while Illyria came to a halt over Spike, crouching protectively.
"He has the power within him to snap your weak body into pieces as if you were merely uncooked spaghetti in his hands!" growled the blue-tinged demon. "Do not presume to hit him merely because he does not wish to strike you in return! Do not take advantage of his goodness, or his weakness! And do not strike him again!"
Dana got to her feet, her hands tightly clenched. "He was hurting us."
"Then let him hurt you! What do I care for the plight of your Slayers? That they might die at his hands? Better than for him to die at theirs!"
"No!" yelled Spike, getting to his feet and punching Illyria. The blow was even harder than her flying kick into Dana had been, and she flew past Dana and smashed into the wall, cracking the drywall and sending pictures and plants flying as she tumbled to the floor.
"When I say no I mean no!" growled Spike, drawing his hand back as if for another blow. "Bloody stupid bint!"
Andrew came down the stairs with a cattle prod in his hands, his eyes wide with terror. "Are we being attacked?" he squeaked.
"No. Go back to bed," said Spike, his tone harsh.
"Oh. Crap," replied Andrew, darting forward and trying to tag Spike with the taser. Spike dodged the blow and slapped Andrew's face, sending the other man reeling backwards.
"Ow!" said Andrew, clutching his head.
"Don't you bloody try to knock me out!" said Spike, affronted. "Who do you think I am, some kind of ponce? You think you can just finish this with a move like that?"
Dawn shook her head, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a portable taser. She walked calmly up to Spike. "Spike, don't overreact. Andrew was just trying to do this."
She tapped him in the middle of the back, and he convulsed. There was no noise of sparks or blue lights flashing over him, just a sudden jerk, and he fell to the ground bonelessly.
Illyria stalked towards Dawn. "Oh, good. Now that he will not interfere I could, say, kill you all."
Dawn glanced back at Illyria with terror, surprised to see a scowl on the blue demon's face instead of the triumphant grin she was expecting. "Er, what?"
Illyria sighed. "I am trying to convey through the use of threats that your chosen course of action was the stupidest possible one. Spike is, after all, according to your theories the only possible hold on me. Being as I am a soulless demon. As long as I exist you should keep him conscious and able to deal with me at all times." The blue demon tilted her head to one side. "That or you should equip your Slayers all with troll-God hammers."
Dawn flushed. "You saw that conversation? Spike showed you?"
"He and I are very close—although not as close as you think. Some days it is impossible for me to shield my innermost thoughts from him."
Dawn examined the blue demon closely, trying to discern some clues from her stance. All she could see written large in body language was 'stand back from Spike or die.'
"I take it you're a little protective of Spike," she said nervously, stepping back. She'd seen the strength of the demon when Illyria had struck Dana, and didn't want to see it again.
Illyria glanced down at Spike. "Some days more than others," she said darkly. "The suicidal fool." Dana crept forward, and Illyria turned, glaring at her. "Do not think that I share Spike's weakness for Slayers just because I share my mind and powers with him. Do not think I won't kill you if you take one step closer."
Dawn wondered if the taser trick would work again, or if the dazzling reflexes Spike had already demonstrated were indicative of Illyria's speed. If she was as fast as Spike, then there was no chance. He had been lulled by her powerlessness into thinking she was harmless, which was a common enough mistake.
Dana backed away, a resentful look in her eyes. "I saw him kill me," she said sullenly. "You can't tell me it's not real. It's always real. It always happens. Just like the dream. Every single time."
Andrew moved back to the stairs, sitting down. "Wait, wait. Dana had a Slayer dream again, and that's why everyone's fighting? I thought Spike must have done something. It was just a dream?"
Dana scowled. "It was a very scary dream."
Spike stirred, and Dawn felt a tiny jump in her stomach. He shouldn't have recovered so quickly, just another sign that he was more than human, that his association with the hell-goddess was affecting him in ways it shouldn't have.
"Bugger! Taught that girl too well," he muttered.
"Actually, that was one I learned from Buffy," said Dawn.
Andrew was still frowning. "Illyria, can I get by you to get to the phone? I think I need to call England."
"Don't worry, they'll be calling us," said Dawn. "If the other Slayers saw it again… well, they'll be calling us."
"No doubt," muttered Spike, getting up as far as his knees before pausing. "You know, it occurs to me that teaching Dana how to knock out and disable a more powerful opponent than herself wasn't the wisest thing."
"Yes, Spike. Teaching the crazy Slayer how to be even scarier was dumb," hissed Dana.
"What, you want my feet this time? Or all the way up to my shoulders?" mocked Spike. "Bloody women! Always taking and taking."
"Hey!" said Dawn. "Don't make the crazy metaphor for your relationship with Buffy be a crazy metaphor for all relationships!"
Dana glared at Spike. "I trusted you!" she hissed.
"No, you thought you trusted me. If you had trusted me you would have told me the same way you did after the first dream instead of hauling off and hitting me!"
"Enough!" growled Illyria. "I can see that we will have to part now, and go our separate ways!"
"Not likely!" said Dawn, frowning. "It's more than bad enough that this is happening. I really can't see us letting you two out of our sight."
"Then I shall simply have to put those tasers to a more constructive use," said Illyria.
Spike grabbed her arm at the wrist. "Love, much as I hate to argue when you talk sense like that, I don't think more violence is the answer to this."
Illyria smiled, a cold smile devoid of all emotion. "You've always said some violence can solve most problems."
"Well, this is that tiny tenth of a tenth of a millionth of one percent that can't be solved that way! Trust me, okay?"
"I do not wish to trust you on this one. I wish to be absolutely certain." Illyria glared at Dana, and glanced back at Dawn and Andrew. "However, if you wish to be so foolish as to try to talk your way out of this, I will stand behind you and nod encouragingly. In a manner that threatens further violence should they attempt to lay another hand on you."
Spike sighed, exasperated. "I can take care of myself, love."
"If you would take care of yourself, this would not be a problem. It is your overwhelmingly suicidal stupidity that causes this problem, not your lack of manly strength. Although right now I'm sure all of us are questioning your manhood, since you allowed Dana to overwhelm you."
"Hey!" said Dana. "I can be overwhelming! You want some whelming, huh?"
Illyria eyed Dana. "If there is going to be any whelming around here, I assure you, I am going to be doing it."
Spike stood up, sighing. "If you two are done with your absolutely witty banter, could we start seriously talking about what's going on here? I mean, by all means, have a catfight, pull hair and tear clothes, but wait till I have a cold drink and a clear head, okay?"
Illyria glared at him. "I do not appreciate my efforts to protect you being mocked."
"I don't appreciate your efforts to protect me. Fair enough?"
Spike moved towards Dawn, lifting his hands. "All right, I'll admit my attempts to fix things may have gone a bit badly. I'm not sure what else I can do, though. Apparently if I don't fight your Slayers then I'll end up killing them, which seems to me to be kind of a funny progression."
"You strengthened your bond with Illyria," said Dawn. "This has nothing to do with your decisions, and everything to do with hers. Take a moment and appreciate the irony, Spike. Your moral decisions have no weight while you're bonded to her. Only hers."
Spike scowled, glancing at Illyria. "You hear that, love? She's trying to say she doesn't trust you as far as she can throw you. You want to lighten up, all things considered?"
Illyria continued to scowl at him, but she didn't say anything.
Dawn sighed heavily. "Okay, what about severing your bond with Illyria?"
Spike stared at her, aghast. "No, never in a million years!" he snarled. "Are you daft?"
Illyria's frown lightened. "Actually, I think she may be onto something now. Connor could take your place as my priest and champion, and then you would be powerless, and therefore not in anybody's way."
"You mean not in harm's way," said Spike. "Actually, I can think of a few dozen enemies who'd like to come after me if they found out I was suddenly powerless." But there was no real argument in his voice, and his eyes were shining with a strange light, one that somewhat scared Dawn.
Dana frowned. "Wait, wait; you're saying Spike doesn't have to have powers? That he chose them?"
"Of course," said Dawn. "His powers come from his relationship with her."
"He chose to be like this," said Dana flatly. "There was no cosmic calling, no message from the higher powers. No destiny. He chose to be like us."
Spike shrugged. "There was a bit of destiny involved, in the beginning. But I grabbed destiny by the balls and gave it a swift kick in the arse. Why?"
Dana shrugged. "It just seems kind of… wrong. The rest of us all had to do this; it's our destiny. And you just kind of… did it."
Spike shrugged again. "It's what I do, pet. Throw destiny off course, make things happen. I've been told it's a bad habit, but that isn't going to stop me."
Andrew smiled. "It's one of the great heroic things about Spike—that unlike most of us, he has a choice in the matter, and still chooses to fight evil."
Spike scoffed. "You can just shut up or else I'll remember who came at me with a taser."
"Ah, that would be me," said Dawn.
He scowled at her. "So you should be quiet too."
"So we're talking about this, right?" said Dawn. "We're talking about Spike giving up his powers?"
"Yeah," said Spike with a sigh. "As soon as Connor gets here we'll begin the ceremonies."
Illyria turned, facing Spike, and put her hands on his shoulders. "Don't think of this as a rejection," she said, her eyes softening. "I would stand by you forever. But if standing by you will destroy you, how can I do it?"
Spike smiled wanly. "Fair enough, pet. Fair enough."
