Author's Note: My life has been utterly consumed by my postgraduate research degree, and my creative endeavours paid the price. It had been a long time since I had delved into the Buffyverse, even if my love for it remained. What brought me back – was the tragic death of Michelle Trachtenberg. Her work as Dawn on Buffy was wonderful, and she passed away much too soon. Now my schedule is easing off slightly – I think its time I came home to this story that meant so much to me. Miles to go, after all.

Chapter 17: Truth and Lies, Part Three

"Can you hear me, Buffy?"

Buffy's eyes snapped open.

Above her was a circle of faces, all looking down on her with varying amounts of concern.

"My friends," Buffy exclaimed, her lips spreading into a wide grin. "Yes, I can hear you."

Willow let out an audible sigh of relief, holding out a hand to help the robot to her feet. "Well, that's something. Do you remember what happened?"

Buffy took the hand gratefully, manoeuvring herself carefully back to her feet as the other scoobies moved to make space. Buffy's brow creased in concentration. "There was a large demon – we fought, and then..." she paused, running through her memory files again. The last several seconds were a disjointed, incomprehensible mess of movement, static and errors.

"Something attacked Xander," Buffy explained slowly, "Not the big demon. It was smaller – and I could not see its face. I was about to assist him, but then... I am unable to recall. Did we win?"

"Interesting question…" Willow murmured. Her frown of concern had only deepened following Buffy's account, and as Buffy had finished speaking, she turned her head to look over the deserted scene again, at the darkened grass and thorny bushes.

"I don't know Wil…" Xander groaned, and Buffy could now see he was being supported by Anya and Tara. His hair was standing on end, and his eyes were wide, frazzled. "But this sure feels like a victory headache."

Buffy frowned at him, noting his appearance. "Are you alright Xander?"

"Oh yeah..." Xander said, still wincing slightly as Tara and Anya helped him take a couple steps forward. "This is pretty standard for Scooby patrol... Like old times."

Buffy looked around. "Did the demon get away?"

Anya snorted, gesturing wildly with her one free arm. "More like vanished into thin air... all we saw when we got here was those three little dweebs."

Buffy frowned. "What is a dweeb?"

Willow sighed, running a hand through her deep-red hair. "Alright, I think we can call patrol a little early tonight."

"Tara, can you take Buffybot back to the house? I just wanna make sure Xander and Anya get home safe."

Tara nodded, moving from Xander's side so that Willow could seamlessly take her place.

Anya had adopted a rather bemused expression, and tightened her grip around Xander, pulling him slightly to one side. Xander winced again. "You don't think I can take care of my own man?"

Willow looked at Anya with a rather exasperated expression. "Anya. Can you not fight me on this right now?"

Anya still looked displeased, but after a moment of restless fidgeting, she sulkily acquiesced, and the two of them began to manoeuvre Xander away towards the nearest sidewalk.

After watching them leave for a few moments, Tara gently placed a hand on the back of Buffy's favourite red slaying jacket, smiling kindly at her. "C'mon, we can see how Dawn's been getting on with her homework."

Yet when Buffy and Tara began their walk up the path towards the Summers' house, Dawn did not appear to be doing homework. Wisps of conversation were drifting out through the living room window, snippets of sentences that Buffy's sensitive hearing could pick up.

"I can't let what happened to Janice happen to anyone else. If the others won't take me patrolling, or teach me how to fight – I have to find another way. We had a deal Spike, remember?"

Buffy paused, her hand half reached out to the doorknob. That didn't sound right somehow.

Spike's voice cut in. "Yeah, we did – but after last night, you need to lay low for a while. As it is, the Missus gave me a grilling over exactly how I knew where you were. Bars on the window isn't gonna help the cause now, is it?"

"Fine – you're probably right," Dawn conceded. "I don't want to do the whole.. family drama thing all over again. Pretty sure they'll be watching me – convinced I'm going to fly apart or something. And... I don't really want to hurt them again."

Spike snorted. "Yeah, well – just play the good girl for a little while, alright? They'll be plenty of time for learning the ropes after the mother hens have stopped clucking."

"What's wrong Buffy?" Tara asked, but before Buffy could answer, she heard a series of heavy footfalls quickly moving across the wooden floor of the house, and within a moment the front door swung open.

"Oh," Spike said, a look of apparent surprise on his face. "It's you. Slim pickings tonight, was it?"

"Not exactly," Tara replied, stepping inside as Spike made way for her. "Xander and Buffy got taken down by some kind of demon – possibly a group. It got away too."

"Poor carpenter boy..." Spike remarked dryly. "Well then, I'd best be off."

Tara nodded. "Well, thanks for watching Dawn – as always. Let us know if you need anything... within reason."

Spike snorted. "Sure. Could use some cash. Been too long since I stopped charging you lot…"

Buffy however, had not made a move to enter the house. Instead, her eyes were fixed on Spike. Something didn't sit right with her about all this. Buffy knew vampires had an excellent sense of hearing and smell – at least as potent as her own.

As she continued to process everything she had just witnessed, she began to put the pieces together. Spike must have known it was Tara at the door – for she herself neither had a human scent, nor had spoken – and therefore had feigned the surprise on his face. But why would he lie?

Buffy quickly recalled Tara's own advice. Search for motive. Reason.

An answer came. Spike lied - because she wasn't supposed to have heard what Spike and Dawn were discussing.

But what had they been discussing, exactly? What was this 'deal' Dawn had referred to?

Spike seemed to notice Buffy watching her, shooting her a frown as he passed her on the doorstep, though he said nothing as he moseyed on down the front path, his long black coat trailing out behind him.

Buffy moved inside, closing the door behind her, just as Tara made the top of the stairs and vanished onto the upstairs hallway. Without hesitation, Buffy moved into the living room, where Dawn was perched casually on the sofa, running a few strands of her hair through two fingers. She smiled at Buffy.

"Hey there Buffy. You okay? I heard Tara say you got laid out by some demon?"

"Hello Dawn," Buffy said, in a rather stilted voice.

So soon after their recent conflict and reconciliation, Buffy still felt uneasy about the possibility of repeating the experience. "She is correct – but do not worry. I am mostly undamaged, and Willow will run a diagnostic before my next patrol."

Dawn nodded. From her outwards appearance Dawn seemed to be far more at ease, though Buffy could no longer be certain that this truly reflected her true state. "Cool. You'll also be pleased to know that I 'slayed' my latest math assignment within the first hour... pretty impressive, I know."

Buffy lowered herself robotically onto the couch beside Dawn. "I am glad."

Dawn frowned at her, as though sensing something was amiss. "Is... something wrong?"

"I do not know," Buffy replied honestly.

There was silence for a few seconds.

"Dawn, I need to know something. And... please, do not lie to me again."

Dawn's face was suddenly pained. "Umm – sure, Buffy. What do you... what do you want to know?"

"I require clarification. What is the nature of your 'deal' with Spike?"

Dawn froze, and her eyes widened.

"Please Dawn, I need to know," Buffy implored her. "I know Spike knew about what you were doing last night – and I heard what you were talking about just now."

Dawn's reply was a mess of stuttering stammers. "You... you heard – oh. Oh God..."

Buffy reached out to take both of Dawn's hands, remembering observing many such gestures of affection between friends and family in the past. "Dawn. You are my sister. Last night – I almost failed to protect you. I know I am not... everything that you need. I understand that I do not understand, but I want to keep you safe. I want to help. Please Dawn – talk to me."

Tears pooled in the corners of Dawn's eyes, and sure enough - she talked.

"I've been... doing stuff, for a while now. Sneaking out – and... I've been taking things. Things that don't belong to me. Spike's been watching me – says he just want to stop me getting in over my head. He tried to get me to stop at first – but... I wouldn't. So, he suggested instead that I just... learn from him. He's already a rebel, and a thief."

"Spike knew you had been doing this?"

Dawn averted her eyes. "Yeah."

Buffy felt something, something that pushed at the edges of her programming. It was like... sadness, but different. More immediate. When she spoke again, her voice was little more than a hushed whisper. "And he did not tell us."

"I... asked him not to," Dawn argued, squeezing one of Buffy's hands.. "It's not all his fault – it's mine."

"But I do not understand," Buffy said, shaking her head in confusion and growing distress. "Why have you done these things? Stealing is wrong Dawn, lying to your friends is wrong. But you are not a bad person – I know this. You are my sister. One of the good guys!"

Dawn looked hopelessly at Buffy, and her body seemed to shudder. "It's... hard to explain, Buffy. Ever since we lost Mom, lost Buffy... It's been hard. Sometimes it's like it's not even real. You heard some of it last night. A lot of the time I just feel... numb. But when I do those things... it makes me forget about it, for a little while. I'm just... in the moment."

Buffy wished she could understand. In a way, she had never been closer to Dawn, but in another way she had never felt further from her – on the other side of a wall she had not been programmed to cross, one that she could not reach through.

"I am sorry Dawn," Buffy said, after a few moments had passed.

"It's okay," Dawn replied. "Thanks for not... totally freaking out, anyway. I think any of the others would have done. But like I said before – you listen to me."

Buffy nodded, her brow creased new resolution.

"Dawn, I need to go and do something. Are you alright being here with Tara?"

Dawn blinked. "Huh? Where are you going?"

The something, the unknown feeling that had been building inside Buffy had turned into iron resolve. "I need to talk to Spike."

Dawn looked visibly wary. "Buffy... I'm not sure you should..."

"Please Dawn," Buffy implored her. "I should have done this before. I allowed my... past with Spike to interfere. I cannot do that any longer. Not when it affects you."

With that, Buffy moved back towards the front door.

"Buffy?"

Buffy turned back to Dawn. "Yes, Dawn?"

"Are you going to tell the others?"

Buffy hesitated, her long golden air flipping over one shoulder as she turned back to look at Dawn.

"When I get back – we will discuss it. Together. Please, tell Tara where I have gone."

Dawn smiled, looking somewhat reassured. "I will. And... thank you."

"You are welcome." Buffy opened the door but shot one last glance back at her sister. "I am glad that you told me, Dawn."

Buffy shoved open the wooden door of the crypt, not even pausing to wait for an invitation before storming inside. Spike's head snapped round to spot the intruder with predatory reflexes, but once he saw who it was his body released its tension, reaching over sluggishly to mute the television.

"So, what the bloody hell do you want?" Spike asked with irritable disinterest. "Can't you people leave me alone for a single moment?! Make it snappy bot, 'Passions' is on in a sec."

"Hello Spike." Buffy greeted him, her robotic tone still managing to carry a certain solemnity. "I wish to talk to you. About Dawn."

Spike eyed her warily. "About Dawn? Well, she's not here if you've lost her again, and…"

"I know about your arrangement with her," Buffy revealed plainly, interrupting Spike in mid-sentence. "And I have unarranged it. I wish you to… to stay away from Dawn."

Buffy felt awkward saying the words. She was entirely unaccustomed to saying things she knew would most likely lead to upsetting someone. Especially Spike. The very notion seemed to rattle her to her core processor.

"You want me to stay away from her?" Spike repeated incredulously, letting out a snort. "If you hadn't noticed doll, I'm the one who's keepin' her safe out there."

Buffy was silent for a moment, running through her processor all that Dawn had told her of their secret arrangement. "I do not think you're good for her. You are not what she needs. I will protect her now."

"Right," Spike began in mock earnest. "And who do you think you are to be the one who looks after the little bit, eh?"

"I am her sister." Buffy said simply. Sisters looked out for each other. Sisters loved each other. Even when they hurt each other.

Spike slowly rose to his feet at that. He took a long drag on his cigarette, blowing the fumes into the cold air before tossing it away. He was beautiful. He was dangerous. He was Spike. The fiend lowered his head, letting out a low chuckle.

"You know, after all of Wil's little tweaks, at the end of the day you are still one hell of a dumb bitch, aren't you?"

Buffy froze, and Spike's face momentarily twisted into a small, satisfied smirk.

This is wrong. What flowed through her processor at his response felt almost like pain. Spike's disapproval. Spike's disdain. What had she done wrong?

"No, you're not her sister," he pressed bitterly. "You're not the Slayer either, so don't try that one. I've killed two of them, so I should know. Three, if you count what I did last year. And you're certainly not Buffy. You couldn't have the foggiest idea what that even means."

Spike stepped closer to her, continuing until his face hovered intimately close above her own. "You know what you are, love, really? You think you're a 'real girl'… but the truth is, well… you're just some life-size toy I used to shag to get my jollies."

Buffy's eyes fell from his, lost on the ground. A toy. Just what Razor had called her.

"You... said you loved me once." She whispered. She remembered. Nights entwined, slaying and loving. Her twin purposes. Her reason to be. "There were many times."

"Loved you?" Spike laughed acidly. "I loved Buffy! I loved her 'till it burned me up inside, twisted me inside out. And you? Well... as if I could ever love something as boring, as stupid, as predictable as –"

Malfunction detected.

Buffy's arm shot out, smacking Spike hard across the face with brutal force, sending him flying into the stone casket at the centre of the room with a crack. Buffy didn't seem to realise what she was doing until it was over, her eyes widening as she gazed at her closed fist.

She had attacked Spike. She had hurt him – and not in the way he likes. What was happening to her?

Spike had collapsed into a heap after the impact, but after being stunned for less than a moment he raised a hand to the back of his head, before looking at the blood staining it. Then he grinned.

"That's more like it love," he congratulated her, mockery still in his voice as he staggered to his feet. "Wil give you a thrash the Spike program, did she? You want to start this one over, love?"

"Stop talking," Buffy demanded, her face twitching as she shook her head to try and silence her deafening sequences of errors and contradictions.

"That's right," he called out musically, his voice reverberating off the suddenly claustrophobic stone walls. "I'm not the only one who knows it. Like me, your friends just want to use you. You're a tool. They want something, so they write it into your tiny plastic brain! You're an object, love – best you get used to it."

"That is NOT true!" Buffy bellowed, shaking her head as all the doubts, all the contradictions about her identity flooded to the surface of her systems. "Willow said I have a soul – I am real. I am Buffy. I am the Slayer!"

"Willow lied," Spike replied viciously, as though savouring the taste of the words. "All your little scooby friends lied! And you're so unbelievably thick, it's taken me spelling the whole bloody thing out to you for you to get a clue!"

Words gave way to blows. Almost before she was aware of it, Buffy was sending wave after wave of impossibly fast blows and kicks at Spike, which even he appeared to struggle to dodge, block and riposte, though he managed it with considerable effort. Both of them punched and kicked, struck with elbows and knees, wielding every part of themselves possible as a weapon as the deadly dance continued. When they weren't blocking each other's strikes, they were wrestling one another into the walls, cracking dusty stone pillars and knocking candles and stray bottles of spirits to the ground.

Spike's ravenous eyes bore into Buffy as he got the upper hand, driving her to the ground. Before she could react he had thrown himself atop her, his lips pressing heavily on hers. Buffy blinked rapidly – utterly dumbfounded by the innate contradictions of what was happening.

"Maybe I was wrong…." Spike drawled as he pulled his mouth away, moving his greedy hands slowly up Buffy's sides. "Maybe you should visit me once in a while – after all, it is what your best at isn't it? What you're for?!"

Buffy began to panic as he ran his cold hands over her, feeling only revulsion at what had once made her feel nothing but joy. For so long she had just wanted Spike to see her like he once did, to smile when he saw her, to gain pleasure from her presence. To look in a room and see only her – rather than just seeing everything else. But it was only now she realised how wrong she had been.

This wasn't who she was anymore.

Refusing to allow him to continue a moment longer, Buffy headbutted Spike in the face, rolling onto her knees before grabbing the vampire by the arms and throwing him off her into a nearby wall.

"No, Spike," she said. "This is not what I am for."

"You like it rough now do you?" Spike asked through bloody lips, wiping his mouth with his wrist. "I can work with that. Go on, bot – start this one over."

He threw himself at Buffy again, just as she managed to spring back to her feet. Just as he was about to reach her, Buffy thrust out a fist towards his head, only for Spike to deftly duck under the blow.

Without hesitation, Spike grabbed her outstretched arm and launched a fluid kick into Buffy's stomach, sending her flying through the air until she collided with his door, shattering the rotten wood. She landed hard on the grass outside, surrounded by the headstones and the evening mist.

Spike loomed over Buffy as she tried to rise despite her twisted and battered circuits, looking down at her with a determined expression.

"I could have saved Buffy that night," Spike spat. "I could have saved Dawn before the whole bloody apocalypse started. But I failed – and Buffy died. Now I can only make it right, by keeping her little sister safe – keeping her wise to what's out there, and tellin' her how to survive. And I will. Buffy knew I was the only other person who had the strength to protect Dawn – she told me so - so I'll be damned if I let a half-wit like you get in the way. It's what Buffy would have wanted. Because well... after all, she was nothing but disgusted by you."

He turned away from her then, closing what was left of the broken door behind him and leaving Buffy alone, sprawled and broken in the darkness.

His muffled voice could still be heard from inside. "And either you give me the cash to get me a new door, or send Xander down here to make me a new one!"