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 6: infernal and internal
--
While the grownups talked shop, Dana and Spike hung out on the front porch.
It was strange that Spike was there. Usually he was the leader, but ever since Dawn had arrived he'd slipped back into the role of sidekick as easily and naturally as a fifteen-year-old.
He was playing with his lighter, a definite sign that he was nervous.
"Does it bug you when people smoke?" Dana asked. He'd never yelled about smoking before, but they'd never had a smoker visit before. Except when Faith visited, and she knew better than to smoke in front of him anyway.
"More than you can imagine!" he ground out. "The Watchers are afraid I'll go back to slaughtering innocents. But that's never been as much a temptation as the bloody smokes!"
"Hard to quit, huh?"
"Love, I stopped killing and drinking human blood, okay? A vampire. My very instinct, my raison d'etre, was drinking human blood. And I stopped. That's a turn-your-life around kind of experience, one that was so hard at the time I thought I would go mad. And it was nothing—nothing! Not compared to the smokes."
"But they're bad for you."
"Worse for me than most. But, yeah. Besides that, I promised Blue I'd be sticking around for her as long as I could. And how's chewing bloody death-sticks help that? I mean, at least when I was a vampire there was no physical risk to me. Not that it would have stopped me, anyway. Actually, there is a good deal of physical risk, now that I think on it. Fire that close to a very, very flammable dead old body isn't a good thing. But I didn't mind it."
"But now you have responsibilities."
"I feel like some kind of awkward father with a two-headed child."
"Well, yes. But all of us. We'd be very mad if you went away."
"Yeah."
They were silent.
"Why'd you kiss me in the kitchen? I mean, that was a kiss, right? I'm pretty sure it was. There were lips."
"Yeah, it was a kiss." He folded his hands in his lap.
"Why?"
"Well, that's complicated. And it's complicated even before we bring up the very, very complicated subject of my last, um, relationship. If you can call it that. So trust me when I say, we'll be talking a while."
"But was it just to help through the mental block? Because, if it was, I'm really mad at you, but it's okay. I think it's okay. Is it okay?"
"No, it wouldn't be. And it's not why."
"So why?"
"This is going to take patience to untangle. See, my original plan was just to touch you. Be a good boy and help you out. Completely unselfish." There was a frown on his face. "And that's how all my best plans start, come to think of it."
He wasn't meeting her eyes, just staring out across the road. She wondered if he was afraid of her. Illyria had seemed to think so, and Dana thought that was almost as crazy as she was. What did he have to be afraid of? He was Spike! Everybody else was scared to death of him.
Of course, without his power, they wouldn't be. And they were going to take that power away. That just didn't seem right, a powerless Spike. It was like he would be only half there.
Like his hands were cut off.
Strange that she hadn't considered before how cruel her actions must have been. She knew now—as she hadn't when she'd cut him—that he was a vital person. A person of action.
A person whose hands were necessary.
It must have been a psychological blow to have them gone, and she knew psychological blows. Spike was reliant on nobody; it was a point of pride to him. She knew how much he hated having to ask Angel for help. Or the Slayers. Or Illyria. Or Connor.
He'd bought his independence with blood, after all.
"I wanted to kiss you," he said. "Have for a while. And don't you bloody well dare ask me why. No rhyme or reason to it at all. It's usually that way, you know? I don't get it. I never bloody have. Maybe that's part of the problem."
"Problem?" She didn't like the sounds of that.
He sighed. "I shouldn't have just kissed you. I should have said something—told you how I felt. I should have asked you on a date. I should have done something normal."
"Normal? Do we ever do anything like that?" she asked dubiously.
"I insist on it," he said. "I cook, don't I?"
He did, which was exceptional, for him.
She sighed, mimicking his most common mannerism. "I didn't mind the kiss," she said finally.
He chuckled. "That's good to know."
"No, I don't mean… I mean, from you. If somebody else wanted to kiss me it wouldn't matter if it was really good or really bad, because I mind, and I'd break them first. But I don't mind from you. Does that make sense, or am I insane?"
"Less insane than me, I think," he said broodily. She hated it when he got like that and started thinking about the past. She knew just how bad the past could be. She didn't even like to imagine the past any more.
"How insane are you?"
"I can't even kiss a girl any more without thinking about some other girl," he said. "Two girls, actually. No, make that three. And that's the part about my past relationships that you really deserve to know about."
"Oh," she said, a little disappointed.
"And yeah, you deserve better than that, too. And it sort of ruined the moment back there—as if Blue and Nibblet weren't already doing that."
"Why do you still call her that?"
"What?"
"Nibblet. Dawn. You're no longer a predator—she isn't just a snack anymore."
He grimaced. "You're asking a horrible old man to change his ways, which he is well-set in, trust me."
"Isn't that what you're all about? Changing?"
"Yes, yes, I am. But that's something I don't have to change, isn't it? So I keep it."
Behind them the door opened. Spike didn't look back. "I thought I told you to smoke outside?"
Barclay put out the cigarette. "I believe we have what we need. We'll be back," he said gruffly, heading out.
The Slayer, Lucy, followed him. Dana always found it weird being around other Slayers. They felt different than demons or other people, and sometimes it was almost like she could see through their eyes. Other Slayers hadn't said anything about that, so she assumed it was just a crazy thing. But it was weird.
The tall, scaly demon stayed behind a second, staring at Spike. "How odd," he said finally.
"I'm not getting into it with you. Not yet."
"No, perhaps not. I can see that."
"You done?"
"They spent the last ten minutes of our meeting discussing ways to keep you away from the Slayer beside you," said the demon, his tone neutral.
"I figured," said Spike.
"Yes. All very complicated, I'm sure."
"Since when are you a good guy?"
"Since when are you?"
There was a long silence, while Spike looked at the ground and the demon studied him. Finally the demon turned and followed his companions, still without a word.
"Time to face the music," muttered Spike.
--
There wasn't many things Dana liked better than watching Andrew and Spike argue. They both made good points, and they were both reasonably articulate about it.
But it was their faces that she enjoyed. Those wildly expressive faces that reflected so much of what was inside that you felt like you were reading their minds. Faces that betrayed everything. She wondered sometimes how Spike had ever been evil. Everyone would know right away he was up to no good.
Of course, that might have worked with his whole bad boy image. He'd just let them know up front that he was evil, show up and tell somebody he was there to kill them. Then he'd fight them, because he loved to fight. And he'd say whatever the outcome might be was the best thing that could have happened.
And that was right.
But right now it wasn't fun watching them argue, because it was suddenly important to them. The television wasn't, for all they talked about it. It was just what they did.
But Andrew was telling Spike he had to leave and leave Dana alone. And Spike didn't like that. And Andrew didn't like that Spike didn't like that, because Andrew was supposed to protect Dana. He took that seriously, and thought the title Watcher wasn't anywhere near serious enough.
And the worst part was what she could see on their faces. Spike was miserable, but he was thinking that maybe Andrew was right and it would be better that way. And so he was inches from giving up.
But Andrew didn't really believe it, because he believed in Spike. And it was breaking his heart to have to try and sort his loyalties out between his Slayer and the ex-vampire he idolized so much.
And so they were both arguing quietly, with misery on their faces.
At the same time Dawn was arguing with Illyria. That was even more tense, since Dana knew from experience that the dark demon was often impatient with arguements. If she decided it would be faster or better to simply fight, she would. If she thought you were wrong, she would simply stop arguing, since it was a waste of her time.
In short, she was arrogant.
And Dawn didn't take well to that. She was on the verge of shouting, which wasn't good.
In the meantime, Dana had her own little problem to deal with. As everyone else was arguing, she was having to deal with the phone. They were ignoring it right now, and of course that meant that she was having to talk to the various different people who were calling.
Right now she had Connor on hold, Mister Giles on hold, Harmony on hold, and she was trying to deal with a very angry Faith. It wasn't easy. "Everybody's okay, and everybody is sure we can change what we saw in the Slayer dreams."
"Do you actually believe them, fruit loop? Men are like that. They tell you what they think, but it's never what's real. It's always fake."
Dana was having trouble understanding Faith. In a situation like this she was sure that Spike would have been able to tell her that something else was going on, that something deeper ran beneath Faith's words.
But she couldn't figure it out, so she said something meaningless about a nice day, and hung up on Faith. Next came Harmony, her personal favorite.
Dana liked Harmony. That wasn't right, since Harmony was a vampire and didn't have a soul. Nobody liked Harmony, and that was important, for some reason. Not liking her. Since they might have to kill her, Dana supposed. Emotional distance, Spike would say.
But it was easy to like her. She was always happy, and always saying nice things about Dana. And giving her tips on how to look better. And how to not look crazy.
And besides that, she was on their side right now, wasn't she?
"Hello, Harmony. Sorry, I have other people on hold too."
"Neat. Is blondie bear there?"
"He's arguing right now."
"Can he argue with more than one person at a time? Never mind, I know he can. I'm just not good enough for him to argue with me. Blah. Could you tell him that I think we have a clue about what's going on with Angel?"
"I don't think he cares."
"Oh, he's just covering up. He's got layers, my Blondie Bear."
"Layers?"
"Like onions. Or cakes. Cakes are better. People don't like onions."
"I like them."
"Then it's a good example!"
"He kissed me."
Harmony hung up, which confused Dana a little. She moved on to the next flashing light, and she couldn't remember who it was for a second. There was just Connor and Mister Giles left, but she wasn't sure which one it was. In person she knew you could never make that mistake, or even if they were talking to themselves right now, which would be handy.
But they weren't. All she could hear was a faraway hum. "Um, hello?" she ventured.
"Oh, thank God!" said Mister Giles. "I couldn't take that abysmal music one more second!"
Dana thought about that. Spike had chosen the music for when somebody was on hold, but she thought that he and the Watcher had similar tastes in music. "What is it?" she asked. "I've never heard it."
"It's not music Spike would like, it's music he likes to inflict," said Giles with a sigh. "And it's a bloody, bloody, bloody small world after all. Is Spike there?"
"Er, he's arguing."
"Is Dawn there?"
"She's arguing."
"Are they arguing with each other?"
"No."
"Oh. Oh, dear. Well, that's the way it goes. Would you tell them that some, um, new information has come up? Information that I really need to pursue. I won't be coming to the meeting. Do you all have a solution?"
"Yes, Mister Giles. We're going to strip Spike of his powers."
"Oh! Good!" He sounded more cheerful now, which confused her. She had thought that he and Spike got along pretty well, all things considered. Of course, he was very protective of the Slayers, and the thought that Spike might hurt them must have really bothered him.
"Goodbye," she said helpfully, glancing down at the still-blinking light on the other line.
"Goodbye, dear. Do try to stay sane."
It annoyed her that he felt the need to say that, but she didn't argue with him. He was supposed to know best, after all.
She hit the last button, and she could hear Connor muttering to himself. "Third to broadway, broadway to main... no, no. That's right through rush hour traffic."
"Hello? Connor?" she said.
"Dana? Hi. How are you?"
"Still sane."
"Oh, good. Slayer visions got worse?"
"Yes. I saw Spike killing me, and I freaked out and hit him. And he kissed me."
"That's... disturbing. And, once again, very oddly reminiscent of his relationship with Buffy."
"Oh, dear. I was hoping it wasn't about that."
"Well, you can never tell."
"He said it wasn't about that."
"He might be right. I'll try to help you guys sort that out when I get there."
"Yes, and you need to take Spike's job and take Illyria's powers. Be her high priest."
"Oh. Well, I thought this might happen eventually. I'd hoped to get through college first, but that's the way the cookie crumbles. I'll be there in a few hours. Days, maybe. Left here! Left here! Ciao." He hung up before she could.
She checked the lights one more time to make sure she'd taken care of them all. Since she had, she hung up.
She really didn't like the phone.
The arguements appeared to have been settled, or not settled, while she was on the phone. The whispers were done, and Spike and Illyria were watching TV, taking up the whole couch and not talking. The silence was very intense, which was a little weird. This was not a quiet house. The people here usually used words for all sorts of things--to talk, to fence, to scream, to confound, to argue.
But now they were using silence as a weapon, and that was uncomfortable. Dawn and Andrew were sitting side by side on the stairs, and they were silent too. It was a slightly more tense silence.
And suddenly Dana wondered where she should be sitting. Where was her place? Should she sit with Spike? (he had kissed her) Or should she go with her watcher. (he thought it was bad that Spike had kissed her)
It would be taking sides, though. And she wasn't sure she wanted to do that. That meant one side wouldn't be on her side.
So she grabbed hold of the phone as if waiting for it to ring, and stared down at it as if expecting it to ring at any second. Yes, after all, two of the four callers had disconnected suddenly. Well, Connor had said goodbye first, so only one, really. But Harmony might be calling right back.
So it was important to stay by the phone. Just in case.
