The Lazarus Phenomenon - IX

'Every parting gives a foretaste of death; every coming together again a foretaste of the resurrection'

- Arthur Schopenhauer

The Early Bird Motel

"So, who exactly is this Spike guy?" Ruthie pressed, laying the magazine she had been pretending to read on the nightstand at the side of her bed. Apparently, she could no longer contain her curiosity. Dawn groaned and her fingers hovered momentarily above the keys of her laptop as she debated whether to simply ignore the young potential she had been forced to share a room with. The girl had already been the cause of much irritation following an earlier incident involving a pressurised can of orange soda and Dawn's newest blouse. Dawn was beginning to realise how much of an annoyance she must have proven to Buffy over the years, and made a mental note to repent as soon as she and her sister were reunited. Whenever that may be.

With a sigh, Dawn turned to face Ruthie, who was sitting cross legged in the centre of the single bed and gazing expectantly at her.

"He's just a vampire with a soul," Dawn said simply, shrugging as though it were really no big deal. Ruthie's mouth dropped open and Dawn resisted the urge to throw an 'M & M' in the direction of the gaping void. She hoped that her explanation, despite its simplicity, would close the discussion once and for all. Throughout dinner she had been forced to suffer the potentials chattering excitedly about the new 'hottie' vampire that Giles and Dawn had retrieved from the border. It had not taken long for her to grow tired of the juvenile prattle and talk of Spike's 'rock hard abs', thus she had escaped to her room to enjoy her portion of fried chicken in peace, only to be followed mere minutes later by Ruthie.

"Another one?" Ruthie demanded, "I mean, I thought that Angel guy we came here to help was a vampire with a soul?"

"He is," Dawn countered with as much patience as she could muster. For reasons unbeknown even to herself, Spike's reappearance had ignited a burning fury within her. She had barely found herself able to look at the vampire, much less actually converse with him. Sensing her unexplained hostility, Spike had obliged her by staying out of her way. He was currently holed up in his own motel room, no doubt cleaning his wounds and running up a cable bill that would melt Giles' credit card.

"He died in Sunnydale," Dawn explained, returning her attention to the laptop and stabbing at the keyboard with a little more vigour than was necessary. "I guess now he's back."

"So I take it you didn't know?" Ruthie inquired, her lips twisting into a delighted smile. "And that's why you're so pissed?"

Dawn's head whipped round and she glared at the girl angrily.

"No, I didn't know, and I don't care either," she spat, her tone and watery eyes betraying her, "and I am not pissed."

"Gees, sorry," Ruthie retorted, rolling her eyes and leaning forwards in order to swipe a handful of Dawn's candy. Dawn batted at the potential's hand, but the young girl's developing Slayer reflexes were too quick for her adversary, who was left with an half empty candy wrapper. Ruthie grinned before tossing several of the sweets into her mouth at once.

"So you think Buffy knew?" she asked through a mouthful of candy after the ferocity of Dawn's stare had subsided a little. Dawn let out a strangled scream and whirled around to face the potential.

"When are you going to grasp that I just don't care?" she demanded, slamming the lid of her laptop closed and rising to her feet. She hastily pulled a cardigan over her pyjamas and stalked towards the motel room door. Her hand gripping the doorknob, Dawn shot a glance at Ruthie.

"Touch my laptop, and I will kill you," she promised, emphasising each separate syllable in her threat. Ruthie giggled and rolled her eyes as though nonplussed.

"You and whose army?" she taunted, twirling a strand of auburn hair around her index finger. "Super slayer strength, remember?"

Dawn narrowed her eyes, murmured something indistinguishable under her breath, and exited the motel room. The door slammed shut behind her as though closed by an invisible hand, and Ruthie could immediately be heard shrieking shrilly. As Dawn had excited the room, she had employed another smaller charm that Willow had taught her during one of their many private sessions together back at the school in Rome.

"Can't use the laptop if you don't have any electricity," she said, smirking with satisfaction as she patted her bulging pocket, into which she had also slipped the computer battery.

Laughing softly to herself, Dawn approached the soda machine located in the now deserted motel lobby and slipped what little change she had left into the coin slot. The machine whirred into life after several moments pause and Dawn chewed on her bottom lip as she prepared to make her selection.

"That stuff will rot your teeth you know, nib… Dawn…"

Dawn's shoulders immediately tensed and her heartbeat picked up pace a little. She made a point of choosing her soda slowly and silently, and had collected the can and popped it open before she finally turned to regard Spike.

He was leaning against the wall of the lobby with one foot flat against the scuffed paintwork and a glowing cigarette end dangling from his lips. Dawn watched entranced as a small pile of ash dropped from the butt and smouldered in the carpet. She bristled a little, inexplicably irritated by Spike's lack of consideration for his current environment. The motel would never be appearing in Tourism Today, but it was someone's livelihood, after all. Dawn tried to ignore the fact that the particular 'someone' was an overweight, balding ex-New Yorker who had charged them double the usual rate for each room as a consequence for showing up without reservations, and then handed them their own linen with which to make up their beds.

Spike offered a tentative smile to the girl, who folded her arms across her chest in response. The moonlight that spilled in through the window caused the vampire's platinum hair to almost shimmer, and bathed his high cheekbones in an eerie light. He seemed virtually skeletal, definitely not as burly as Dawn had always remembered him to be. Perhaps it was merely the fact that she had done much growing up since their last encounter, and was now far less easily impressed by the more shallow qualities in a man.

"Come on, Dawn," Spike tried, finally removing the cigarette from his lips and flicking it through the open window, "is this because I didn't tell Buffy I was alive?"

Dawn's cheeks grew hot, and she sipped at her soda to avoid answering the question.

Finally she responded, "Not everything is about Buffy."

To her surprise, Spike laughed somewhat bitterly, and then nodded.

"Don't I bloody know that," he said, shaking his head and running his hand through his hair. He looked like he was on the verge of lighting another cigarette, so Dawn hastily thrust her can into his hand. She had always despised the pungent scent of tobacco smoke.

The vampire arched an eyebrow before sipping at the liquid slowly. Of course he could not taste anything, but he enjoyed the sensation of the bubbles in his mouth for a while before swallowing.

"Why, Spike?" Dawn asked softly as he handed back the can. Spike straightened up and forced a smile, which he instantly regretted as Dawn's temper seemed to flare as a direct response to the gesture.

"Because not everything is about Buffy," he repeated. Dawn blinked in surprise, never having expected her own barb to be employed against her.

"What…" she faltered, unsure of herself suddenly. It bothered her more than she would like that she had not known of Spike's resurrection, or yet received an explanation as to why he had chosen to keep it a secret from those who had fought by his side in Sunnydale.

Spike sighed and his crystalline blue eyes locked on Dawn's. She grew silent, and her demeanour seemed to relax if only a little. Spike sensed a power within the girl now that both intrigued and thrilled him.

"I couldn't have risked Buffy knowing," Spike said gently, the fingers of his right hand twitching nervously, "I'll always be grateful to the Slayer for getting me all en-souled, but let's face it, me and Buffy were a mistake. She never wanted me, she never really loved me, she just needed a taste of something darker than usual."

Spike offered Dawn a wry smile, which she returned for the first time since their reunion.

"I did more good in L.A. with Angel than I could have ever done mooching around Rome in the Slayer's shadow. I couldn't risk her asking me to go there, because I guess I would have," Spike finished with a little shrug, unashamed of his admissions. Dawn nodded, understanding if just a little.

"Do you still love her?" Dawn asked, her voice a whisper. Spike seemed taken aback, but he answered with a chuckle.

"Is Oprah on a diet?"

Dawn shook her head in exasperation, her gaze becoming imploring.

"Are you still in love with her?"

There was a long pause that seemed weighty and uncomfortable as Spike searched for the right words. He ran the tip of his tongue across his lips as he contemplated his answer. Dawn sipped at her soda, maintaining an air of nonchalance as best as she could.

"No, I'm not," Spike finally replied. Dawn reeled a little from the revelation, shocked by the rather blunt yet honest response. She sensed that there was much that Spike was leaving unsaid, but for the time being she resolved not to press him. After all, he was going to live forever.

Dawn simply nodded then proceeded to drain the remnants of her can. She tossed her litter into the garbage and stifled a yawn with the palm of her hand.

"Ok, well, goodnight then," she said, smiling at Spike- the first genuine smile he had been awarded since crossing the border from L.A.

Dawn started towards the direction of her room, and Spike felt a sudden stab of reluctance to let her go.

"Dawn!" he called, crossing the distance between them in two strides as Dawn turned to face him once more. She gazed levelly up at the vampire, who found that remarkably his palms were sweating.

"Just wanted to say… goodnight," Spike finished lamely. He leaned forwards, his poise a little awkward, and placed a gentle kiss on Dawn's forehead. She smiled and walked away wordlessly.

Spike pressed his back against the wall, and slid down to the floor, his knees curled into his chest. All the while he kept his eyes trained on Dawn's retreating figure.

All the vampire found himself capable of managing was a single word.

"Whoa!"