The Reforging of the Key

Chapter Six: Snapshots – Part Three

Author's Note: At the beginning of each section change – as opposed to PoV change – how long they've been in the dream world will be shown. When listing years, I won't be showing months unless there's more than one scene in a given year. The nickname Tara ends up using for Spike is from the comic Spike: Old Wounds.

…

:Three Years:

Spike paced back and forth across the living room, the motion soothing to both him and the little girl held against his chest. He rubbed her back, able to feel the heat of her fever through her shirt. She needed medicine. What the bloody hell was taking Tara so long?

She hasn't been gone that long, he reminded himself. It seemed like forever, but it had only really been ten minutes. Medicine and doctors had come a long way in over a century. Dawn would be fine. She wasn't going to develop pneumonia from this. And even if she did, she wouldn't die.

He wouldn't have to watch the life drain away from her like it had from the little sister who had been the same age as Nibblet was now when she died.

Dawn whimpered, and Spike's mind immediately jerked back to the present. "Sorry, Bit," he whispered, relaxing his too-tight grip on her.

"I'm thirsty," she said, her voice a painful sounding croak from the sore throat that had come along with the cough, fever, and sneezing she'd woken up with.

"Right then," he said, taking a deep, calming breath, "let's get you a drink, yeah?"

He shifted her to his right side, freeing his left hand to work on filling a sippy cup with apple juice. She'd just gotten the hang of normal cups, but she was sick enough that Spike figured it would be a bit beyond her today. He'd even given her the daily dose of blood in one of the brightly colored kiddy cups.

He carried her back to the living room and sat on the couch, turning her so she was sitting on his lap with her back to him to make it easier for her to drink. She guzzled it down like she was dying of thirst, then started crying when it was gone.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, Li'l Bit, I'll get you some more," Spike murmured, petting her soft curls. Really hope Tara can find some kind of sore throat spray for sprogs.

Before he could get up to get her more juice, Dawn nuzzled the inside of his elbow and sank suddenly sprouted fangs into the vein there. He stared down at her, blinking stupidly a couple of times, as a feeling weirdly reminiscent of the time he'd eaten a flower person at Woodstock buzzed through him.

After a couple of minutes, she looked up at him, looking completely human except for the fangs and yellow eyes. He'd sort of vaguely been aware that she could do that, but he'd always just used a knife to get the blood she needed.

"Not thirsty anymore," she announced happily, the fangs retracting and her eyes switching back to blue.

That's not the only thing you aren't anymore, Bit, he thought. He couldn't feel the excess heat radiating from her anymore. A hand to her forehead confirmed it. Her fever had broken.

The fact that he had spent half the night fighting demons, spent all of the morning worrying, and it was the middle of his normal sleep cycle all suddenly combined with the relief that Dawn seemed to be better and the wooziness of blood loss. The room spun for a moment, and then he slumped over across the couch.

…

…

When Tara got home from the store, Dawn was sitting in the middle of the living room playing with some of her dolls. Spike was curled up on the couch under what she was pretty sure was Dawn's favorite blanket, unless he had an identical one and a Pretty Pink Pony Princess fetish she didn't know about.

"Hi, Tara!" the little girl called out happily. "I gotsted thirsty, and then bit Daddy and wasn't thirsty anymore, and then he had to have a naptime."

"So I see," Tara said, glancing from the girl to the vampire and back again speculatively. Apparently the medicine she'd bought wouldn't be needed. The popsicles definitely would be, though. Spike looked like he'd had a rough day and could use a nice sugar infusion when he woke up.

…

…

:Five Years:

When Dawn had declared she wanted to have a tea party, Tara had envisioned something cutesy with a plastic tea set and maybe some sandwiches, cookies, and one of her herbal teas. When the little girl had insisted that all invited guests had to wear dresses, the witch had expected those guests would end up just being herself and Dawn's dolls.

I really should have known better, she thought wryly.

"No slouching at the table," the vampire sitting beside her – looking disturbingly comfortable in a simple, black and red lacy dress – whispered, poking her lightly in the side. "Isn't proper."

"Oh, sorry," Tara whispered back, straightening her posture.

"Not that much of this is proper, mind you," Spike continued quietly, "but it can't be helped. Bit is only five, after all, and insists on being the hostess. Can't expect a five-year-old to handle boiling water and the like."

Instead of a little girl's plastic toy tea set, Dawn was gleefully presiding over what a Victorian-era raised Englishman had grudgingly declared a vaguely adequate real tea set. There was a silver tray with a porcelain teapot, a pitcher of cream, a bowl of sugar, cups and saucers, and a glass dish of lemon slices. Plates and a three-tiered serving tray sat on the table next to it, little fruit tarts on the top, tea sandwiches in the middle, and chocolate cake on the bottom.

Tara had offered to make the tea, but Spike had made it himself after giving her the kind of look usually reserved for a small child who insisted she could make a three-tiered Italian cream cake in the family oven now that she'd mastered the Easy Bake. Her participation as more than a guest had consisted of putting spells on the tea pot to make it light enough for Dawn to handle and to keep the contents at the right temperature.

I can't really blame him, she thought, the last time he saw me make tea, I committed the apparently horrible sin of dunking a teabag into hot water. The absolutely appalled expression on his face had actually been pretty funny.

Dawn poured out five cups of tea – two of them for her dolls, Sally and Rebeca – one at a time, and Spike made sure they got where they were supposed to be, declaring that even though he was stuck in a dress again, it didn't mean he'd shirk proper gentlemanly manners.

"Again?" Tara repeated, quirking a brow. She'd thought he looked a bit too comfortable in the dress.

Spike shrugged. "Dru sometimes decided on the same dress code as the bit when she wanted to play dollies and tea party." He both looked and sounded a little wistful at the reminder of his ex. "Knowing me, do you honestly think I ever said no when she asked me to participate?"

I honestly don't think you're capable of saying no to someone you care about, as long as it isn't about their safety, Tara thought sadly as she took a sip of tea. Dawn was getting to the point where she was starting to realize that and was using it to her advantage. She'd have to talk to her about it soon. She sighed and took another sip of tea, only to be poked in the ribs again.

"You're supposed to put the cup down between sips," Spike whispered. Then he murmured something that sounded suspiciously like "ignorant savage."

Dawn giggled and grinned at them. "I think Tara needed the proper manners lecture, too, Daddy." Spike just glanced at her with a raised brow, and the little girl immediately looked contrite. "I'm sorry, Miss Tara, I was very rude to publicly criticize you. Please forgive me?"

"Of course," Tara said with a soft smile.

Her smile turned impish as she set her teacup down only to immediately lift it again to take another drink. Spike grinned at her, then started chatting with "Miss Sally" and "Miss Rebeca," the dolls being voiced by Dawn.

Tara shook her head and threw herself into enjoying the time spent with her weird, wonderful little family.

…

…

:Six Years:

Dawn sighed and very carefully lifted a corner of the curtain to look outside. She was so bored. Tara was out doing the grocery shopping and her daddy had fallen asleep on the couch. Again. She sometimes wondered why he had even bothered turning the basement into a room. If he wasn't sleeping in Tara's room, he usually just ended up catnapping his way through the daylight hours on the couch.

She peered outside, her eyes widening in excitement when she saw the dog out on the lawn. She glanced at her dad, then back at the dog. She wasn't supposed to go outside during the day if Tara wasn't home, but she really wanted to pet the dog.

Daddy's sleeping pretty deep, she thought, looking at him again. He'd gotten really banged up by whatever he'd fought last night. He probably wouldn't even notice if she just popped out really quick.

Her decision made, she crept silently towards the front door and slipped outside, feeling a combination of fear and exhilaration at doing the forbidden. She slowly approached the dog, frowning when she realized it was trembling and whimpering.

"Doggie?"

She saw it then. A white, clawed hand with only three fingers and a thumb clutched around the dog's leg. It was coming out of the ground. Before she could run back to the house, another hand burst up through the ground and reached for her.

She screamed, the door banging open before the sound stopped coming. A horrible white head rose from the soil only to be instantly crunched by a heavy black boot while a just starting to smolder arm wrapped around her and yanked her away. She started screaming again when the parts of her rescuer not covered by a hastily grabbed blanket burst into flames.

…

…

Tara knew something bad had happened the instant she opened the door and caught a whiff of something like charred bacon. She stepped into the house, a bag of groceries in her arms, and her eyes widened in shock at the sight in the living room. Spike was sitting on the edge of the couch, looking singed and a little dazed. Both of his hands and his left forearm where swathed heavily in bandages. Dawn, her cheeks streaked with tears, was standing in front of him and holding a mug with a straw sticking out of it.

"Wha-what happened?"

Spike let go of the straw in his mouth and stared calmly at a freshly crying Dawn for a few seconds before answering Tara's question. "Somethin' that won't be happening again, right, Nibblet?"

"N-no. I w-won't… won't go outside during the day if Tara isn't home," Dawn wailed. "I'm sorry."

"'S alright, Bit. No permanent harm done. The nasty is gone, and, well," he smiled wryly, "considering all the times my own reckless idiocy has gotten me set on fire, can't rightly be mad at you for following in my footsteps, can I now?"

Dawn just sobbed harder. Spike managed to awkwardly pull her into his lap with his bandaged hands.

"There, there. 'S all right as rain. Won't even get in trouble for this mess, since you've learnt your lesson."

He glanced at Tara for confirmation. While anything involving Dawn was ultimately Spike's decision, he knew as well as she did that he was terrible at coming up with or enforcing appropriate punishments. All she had to do was look at him with her big blue eyes and "no TV for a week" suddenly became "you've gone two whole hours without the telly? Let's see what's on."

In this particular case, however, Tara agreed that no punishment was needed. Helping someone you love take care of severe burns because you made a mistake kind of makes a spanking and a time out seem like nothing, she thought, looking at Dawn in sympathy.

"You broke a very important rule, Dawnie," she said gently, "but punishing you for it would just be about punishment, not about learning from your mistake." She took a deep breath before continuing. "Now, why don't you pick out a movie while I put the groceries away? We'll all watch it together."

Twenty minutes later, they were ten minutes into The Princess Bride, and both Spike and Dawn were fast asleep, the little girl clinging to her father as if he might vanish in a puff of smoke. He almost did, Tara thought soberly. She was pretty sure the bandages on his arm and hands covered badly charred flesh. That would have been horrifying for poor little Dawnie, and was probably the main reason for the bandages, since vampires didn't get infections.

I'll need to make sure he drinks a lot more blood when he wakes up. She focused on the ways to get him better in an attempt to stop thinking about how close she and Dawn must have been to losing him. She wondered suddenly what would happen if any of them died in the dream world.

I'll do whatever I can to make sure we never have to find out, she thought resolutely. She'd protect her family. Here and in the waking world, too. No matter what any of the others think. Even Willow.

…

…

:Eight Years:

I think I'm the only kid in all of Sunnydale who loves November fifth more than October thirty-first, Dawn thought as she danced gleefully around the bonfire. It and the wild dancing had been hidden from the neighbors by an illusion that also kept them from hearing the loud rock music, her dad's strangely melodic yell-singing, and her own excited shrieks.

She knew that hiding a party from the neighbors wasn't usually the sort of thing that Tara used her magic for, but once again the traditional argument had ended the traditional way. Dad had claimed the entire thing was about her getting some exposure to her heritage. Tara had responded by claiming it was mostly about wanting to have a wild party with a bonfire and fireworks. That had earned her the Wounded Puppy Dog Look of Innocence, and the witch had caved with mock exasperation.

Two years ago, she'd been given the lecture on the religious and political history of the night, but Dawn agreed with Tara's take on things. Her dad just wanted an excuse to have a bonfire, set off fireworks, and burn things in effigy. Of course, that knowledge didn't stop her or Tara from participating. In fact, the only reason the woman wasn't right there with them was because she was taking a quick rest in one of the lawn chairs.

Dawn squealed suddenly and laughed as she was grabbed under the armpits and lifted into the air. Her dad whirled around with her a bit in time with the music, then pulled her close so her back was against his chest. He gave her a kiss on the cheek before carefully throwing her onto the pillows and blankets piled high beside Tara's lawn chair. A few seconds later he bounced down next to her and play growled before grabbing her again and tickling her.

"Did you two get into the Halloween candy again when I wasn't looking?" Tara asked, the amused sparkle in her eyes evident even with just the light from the bonfire.

"Hey, I just had a peanut butter cup," Dawn said in her own defense as she wiggled free. "He ate an entire package of pixie sticks."

"Dirty little snitch," he muttered, sticking his tongue out at her. "Just for that, you don't get to throw the wanker in the fire this year."

"Aww." She pouted after a quick glance at Tara to make sure it was okay. The last time she'd tried to wiggle out of a punishment, she and Tara had had a talk about the fact that she had Dad wrapped around her little finger and how it wasn't fair of her to use that against him.

Tara's amused smile reassured her that it was just play, so she turned up the pout and added the Big Blue Puppy Dog Eyes of Doom. She was rewarded with an overly dramatic sigh before he reached into one of his coat pockets and handed her the doll with a flourish. She wasn't sure who it was supposed to be, but it was the same every year: a man with a large forehead and brown hair that stuck straight up.

Dawn jumped up to her feet and danced over to the bonfire, holding onto the doll and bouncing impatiently on the balls of her feet while she waited for the adults to join her. Finally, after taking a gazibillion years or so, they were there with her, and Tara was chanting the words that would start up the magical fireworks.

As soon as it began, Dawn shrieked gleefully and threw the doll into the fire. I have such a cool family, she thought happily as the three of them partied into the night.

…

…

:Ten Years:

"I swear, Spooky, one of these days I'm going to put you on vampire Ritalin," Tara grumbled good naturedly. The nickname had stuck after an incident involving a bag of flour and teaching Dawn to bake a cake.

Spike laughed and grinned at her. "Nah. You don't want me as one of those good little drugged up automatons. You'd miss my exuberant personality," he said airily, waving his hand about randomly.

They were walking together along the night streets of Sunnydale. Or rather, she was walking, and he was bouncing along as if he was thinking of trying out for the role of Tigger in a live action version of Winnie-the-Pooh. With Dawn staying the night at a friend's for a slumber party, they had thought dinner and movie out would be fun. I had a great time, Tara thought, eyeing her companion in a mixture of amusement and nervousness, but I think next time I'll pick the movie.

"My god, did you see how he killed that girl who was clearly a winter but dressed and painted her face like she thought she was an autumn? Bugger Angelus and his mind games as art, that was true artistry. And what he did with the head… that was bloody genius."

He was practically skipping and kept waving his hands as he talked, as if hand gestures were absolutely essential to making his point. And that point seemed to be spazzing like a demented fangirl over the movie they'd just seen.

"You know, I'm not sure if watching slasher movies is really a good idea for a recovering homicidal maniac." She smiled to take any sting out of the words.

"Recovering homicidal maniac?" he repeated with a bark of laughter. "I don't think they have a twelve-step program for that, love."

Tara grinned, remembering her own thoughts along those lines around the time they'd first come to the dream world. Despite the fact that he was essentially a serial killer and his "exuberance" was making her a little nervous, she felt safe around him. Even though the stuff he lived on was pretty much all Tara flavored, he'd never made her feel like food. Sometimes like a prey animal, but never like actual food.

I wonder if that's how the prey animals in Dawn's scrapbook feel about their predator buddies, she thought, remembering the book hidden under Dawn's bed in the waking world.

"You've got to at least admit that that Carl wanker completely had it coming, though. He was cheating on his girl. Having his dick cut off and-"

Tara shuddered and cut him off. "That scene was disturbing enough to see, I don't need to hear about it after the fact." Even more disturbing had been Spike actually cheering when it happened. "I'm pretty sure no one has that coming."

"Cheating is evil," he said primly, starting to come down from his slasher movie high. "Sort of my thing, yeah, but I'm all about sinning against God and man. Cheating is a sin against love, pet, and that's just not right."

"But you wouldn't wish anything that horrible on Drusilla," she said gently. She knew she was poking at old wounds, but those were the ones that tended to fester if left alone.

"Dru's barmy. Can't hold anything she does against her," he said defensively. Then he continued in a quiet voice as he stared down at the ground, "'Sides, some people just aren't worth enough to be faithful to."

Before Tara could respond to that, three creatures that looked like the love children of a yak and a tree burst out of an alleyway they couldn't have possibly fit through. Spike launched himself at them with a savage snarl.

She watched, stunned and dismayed, as her friend recklessly fought the demons. They were each easily three times his size, but he persisted. Tara was mesmerized by the savagely fluid motions of the battle as he somehow managed to take them all out.

"Tara!"

Spike's shout pulled her from her near trance. She turned and stumbled back, unconsciously reaching out for Willow as she tried to summon enough magic to stop the demon that had snuck up behind her. But there was no Willow here, no one to take her hand and share energy. Then, suddenly, there was a hand in hers.

"Take what you need, love."

She didn't stop to think about the fact that the energy of a vampire should have been incompatible with her magic. She just reached in and found the pinkish gold at the core of Spike's being – the colors of love and strength intermingled as one – using it to fuel her spell. It wasn't as strong as what she could do with Willow, but it was strong enough. The demon hit a barrier and bounced back from it.

The barrier was destroyed, but it had done its job. Spike now had time to get to the demon before it could hurt Tara.

"Good spot of violence, that was," Spike said happily once the last demon was dead. Blood covered half his face from a couple of nasty head wounds and he was very obviously limping. He winced and muttered, "Always the sodding ribs."

"You are crazy," Tara accused. He should have been dead. The demons hadn't had any wood on them or anything, but they'd come close to pulling off his head several times.

The vampire grinned manically at her as he pulled out and lit a cigarette. "Let you in on a bit of a secret, pet," he said before taking a long drag. "Dru's completely insane, no question, but if you asked any of the minions, they'd tell you that the bug-shaggingly crazy one of the two of us has always been me."

…

…

:Almost Fourteen Years:

It was the day before Dawn's fourteenth birthday, and, as it had approached, both Spike and Tara had had a feeling it would be their last in the dream world. That feeling had solidified into knowledge when Dawn woke up with her memories from the waking world as well as the ones she'd made with them.

They tried to make it special, watching all of their favorite movies – with the exception of slasher flicks – together during the daylight hours. Once the sun set, they went out, having fun and saying goodbye to the dream version of Sunnydale.

"I know we have to wake up, but I'm going to miss this place," Dawn said wistfully as they headed home from the ice cream place. Even though she just a day away from being fourteen and had memories of being a bit older, she walked between Tara and Spike, holding their hands.

"You guys did a really good job of taking care of me." She shot a mock glare at Spike. "Even if you wouldn't eat Joey Sanford for putting a slug in my hair last year. I totally wouldn't have minded or thought badly of you for it."

Spike just grinned at her. "A matter of pride as much as anything else at that point, Bit. Said I wouldn't kill any humans, and I bloody well stuck to it, didn't I?"

They continued on in silence for a few moments before Dawn spoke again. "When… when we get back… it's all going to be real again, isn't it? I know all the stuff from there, but it's like there's this film between it and me. But when we go back… Mom and Buffy…. It's all going to be fresh and horrible, isn't it?"

"Yes," Tara said simply, gently squeezing her hand. "But we'll be there for you. No matter what, we're family. In this world and the waking one. Right?"

She glanced towards Spike with her last word. He had seemed cheerful for the most part, but Tara knew better. There was a sort of skittishness to him that he was trying to hide, and his aura was swirling with stress and deepening depression.

"You'll be fine, Nibblet," he said, not looking at either of them. "Everyone'll be there for you."

"Spooky," Tara started, troubled by the fact that he hadn't said anything about him actually being there for Dawn. What are you planning?

Spike flashed his most charming smile and let go of Dawn's hand in order to get in front of them. "Come on, ladies, no point in moping about. Let's have a spot of fun, shall we?"

…

…

One moment she was snuggled up against him on the park bench and the next her eyes had drifted closed, and she was gone. Vanished as if she had never really existed. Hope that just means she woke up once she fell asleep here, he thought, silently standing up.

Tara hadn't noticed yet. She was still standing and pointing out the constellations as he snuck up behind her. He slipped his arm around her neck and very carefully applied pressure. Right before she lost consciousness from the sleeper hold, he whispered softly in her ear.

…

…

:The Waking World:

When Tara came to, Dawn was already awake and wiggling out from underneath her and Spike. She was confused and disoriented for a moment, but then her memories sorted themselves out. She remembered coming home and finding Spike and Dawn unconscious on the floor as if it had happened less than an hour ago. Which it had.

The memories from the dream world were still there, but one step removed so they didn't detract from the immediacy of the waking world memories. The feelings she'd developed were still there as well, and just as strong as they had been. Dawn was like a daughter to her, and Spike was her closest friend. They were her family.

She slowly got up and helped Dawn to her feet, her thoughts focused on those last few moments within the dream. Oh no, oh god, Spooky, what did you do? She had known something wasn't right. She'd been planning to use a sleeping spell on Spike before he could do anything stupid, but he'd gotten the drop on her there. His whispered words to her as she'd lost consciousness echoed through her mind. Tell Dawn I'm sorry.

A choked off sob from Dawn broke into her thoughts, and she immediately pulled the teenager into a hug. They stood there for several minutes, Tara gently stroking her tangle of curly brown hair.

"S-sorry," Dawn said, pulling away a little and wiping at the tears on her cheeks. "It all just kind of hit me at once." Her eyes went wide. "Oh man, poor Spike, it's all going to hit him like a ton of bricks when he wakes up."

She frowned and looked down at the still unconscious vampire. "Shouldn't… shouldn't he be awake by now?"

Tara watched, feeling a little numb as Dawn dropped down beside him and started shaking his shoulder. She didn't stop her, even though she knew it wouldn't help. I don't think he is going to wake up, Dawnie. She couldn't bring herself to say the words. All she could do was stare and wonder what would happen. Would he turn to dust here in the waking world if he did what she thought he planned? Or would he just sort of exist as an empty shell?

"Spike? Hey, hurry up and go to sleep already so you can wake up. You are like, the king of cat naps, so wake up already!" Dawn shook him again, more frantically this time. "Spike… Dad… Daddy?" She looked up at Tara, tears streaking her face. "Tara, why won't he wake up?"