At long last: the Spike/Dawn fic that has been plaguing me
Title: Long After the End
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Dawn/Spike
Rating: light R
Word Count: 4,782
Summary: Some things never change, except they do.
Warnings: Set 10 years post "Chosen" so spoilers obviously, references to Angel/Buffy, Spike/Buffy.
Written for silver_fic, although it's been long enough that she probably thought I had abandoned it.
She is doing a post-doc based in Belize and she’s been traveling all over Central America. This weekend it is Costa Rica and things are quiet enough, for once, that she decides to head down to this bar that she’s heard some of the native researchers mention. Apparently her Spanish is not as good as her understanding of some older Mezzo-American tongues; because, it isn’t the kind of bar a girl goes to get picked up so much as get preyed on.
Dawn spends a lot of her time around demons: they’re involved in her research, her sister is the original slayer, and she’s had more than one encounter of the supernatural type. Hell, Buffy’s wedding will have a sizable portion (she’s going to be sorry she went for the taffeta, just like Dawn warned her, when that Vokari demon starts doing his thing on the dance floor and it gets ripped to shreds.) But right now Dawn doesn’t have any sort of slayer or weapon with her, she’s not on duty, she’s just somebody’s idea of a tasty bite and she’s wandered right into the wrong side of town. Is it her fault party and gore sounded so similar?
She manages to back halfway down the alley before she slams right into something, or someone.
“Watch where you’re- Well look at what we have here?”
His voice is familiar, and a twist of her neck confirms her recognition.
“Spike?” Dawn isn’t sure exactly what she was expecting but this isn’t it. Sure, she’d heard from Faith that he was alive, but this wasn’t how she’d expected to see him again. Still, presuming he hadn’t gone and destroyed his soul or something, Spike was a vast improvement over the kind of freaks she’d seen in the area.
“Why if it isn’t the little bit, all growed up and still looking for trouble,” Spike never lost his accent the way that Angel did, and his voice is a welcome reminder of how things used to be, before they changed the world and all, somehow.
“Not exactly looking for it. I got confused about something my co-workers were talking about. I was looking for a bar to get preyed on sexuality, not in the sharp teeth and tentacles ones.”
She’s a grown woman, almost 30, and somehow it kind of feels like she’s fifteen all over again, getting caught for sneaking out of the house without her sister’s permission. Spike, at least, had never dragged her home. He’d been complicit in helping her, more than once.
“Sure you weren’t looking for me?” Spike smirks.
“Doubtful, considering the last time I heard any news of you whatsoever, you were in Tokyo,” Dawn manages a laugh that sounds a little more like her current self than the awkward teenager Spike used to know.
“So you do keep tabs on me then?”
“What do you want, Spike?” Dawn isn’t about to let herself be led around by Spike. Whatever his deal is these days, she’s not really in a mood to deal with it. He’s been gone for 10 years, and she’s totally gotten over any residual attachment she may have had from the past.
“Well I was going to offer to walk you home, that being the gentlemanly thing to do, but I guess your brother-in-law to be wouldn’t like that so I’d best be going.”
Spike turns to go, and Dawn knows he’s planning on her calling him back, but now she knows what he’s thinking about, and she could use an escort.
“Wait…. ” Spike turns but doesn’t step back towards her, “It’s good to see you, and I probably could use a little protection on the way back.”
Spike shrugs and steps into pace beside her.
He hasn’t changed at all, of course he hasn’t. He’ll never age. A soul doesn’t mean a mortal body. Dawn is still thinking of the past, all the times he walked her home back in Sunnydale, probably to impress Buffy. Buffy was younger than Dawn is now at the time. Dawn wonders how long it will take until Spike brings up what is on his mind. He isn’t notorious for being tight lipped.
“You know I haven’t gotten an invitation yet, don’t suppose it just got lost in the mail?”
Dawn never realized before, just how pathetic Spike could seem.
“Yeah, like you said. Angel… not so much a fan of you being on the guest list.”
“Angel eh? So Buffy wanted me there then?”
“Well, Buffy wanted pretty much everyone she’d ever met at there. If she was around, I’m sure she’d have invited Glory.”
“Girl always was crazy about weddings.”
Everyone was always crazy about Buffy. The thought has a bitterness to it that hasn’t been in her for almost a decade. It must be old reflexes. It is strange how Spike’s presence is bringing her back to her high school days, emotionally. It is even weirder that she doesn’t mind it.
“ If it helps, Faith voted yes to your being invited,” she offers.
“Let me guess, Harris voted against.”
“Giles, actually.”
“Figures.”
Spike kicks a rock down the roadway, the very semblance of a sulking child.
“Did you really want to go?”
“I wanted to be asked. I mean I’ve known Angel longer than Buffy has, and whatever she says now, Buffy and I… we had something,” the sound of tears is in his voice, “And it just, hurts, for them to act like none of it ever existed. Like I don’t exist. It’s all very well and happy for them, and their big happily ever after, but I’m out here on the fringes of the universe and I don’t matter to a single soul.”
“So you aren’t… seeing anyone?” Dawn’s aware it is a dumb question, but it’s the best response she can come up with to Spike’s melancholy. The other option is to tell him to stop acting like a sullen child, and she may be older now, but Dawn still doesn’t really feel like she can do that.
“Well the whole vampire with a soul thing really gets in the way, you know. Regular girls… well I’m still a vampire. And vampire women… well the whole them being evil and me being not turns out to be a bit of a problem. Besides, my therapist said I should try being alone for a while, discover who the real me is… not just the person I think is most likely to impress my lady love.”
“Your therapist?” Dawn’s pretty much laughing now.
“Yeah. Real nice bloke, charges through the teeth but he came highly recommended.”
So Spike’s single and doing therapy. Well, she supposes that it’s a good thing, with all the issues he has.
“So is he like a human, or a demon? Is there like a special branch of psychology devoted to the paranormal?” Dawn realizes she probably sounds like a nosy idiot, “Sorry. It’s just I never thought about how these things work in the demon world.”
“The demon world. Ha ha, very funny. It’s just like it is in your cozy little universe, and yes, he does specialize in reformed former power junkies, recovering witches like your pal Willow, the kind of guys who used to command zombie legions…”
“And vampires who used to be obsessed with killing Slayers, until becoming obsessed with sleeping with one and getting their souls back?”
“You know I don’t have to walk you home…”
“You have no sense of humor. I was just about to ask you if you wanted to come up for a drink, as we’re almost there, but I know how you love sulking so maybe I should hold off on that,” Dawn tries to sound condescending but feels nervous and expectant.
“A real drink? Or a glass of warm milk?”
“A real one. I don’t even think I have any milk.”
“Alright then. Mind you I can’t quite get over the concept of you offering me a drink, and how unfunny your sister would find it if I ever offered you one.”
Back to Buffy, of course.
“Luckily she doesn’t have much of anything to say about what I drink or with whom these days, being as I’m not sixteen anymore.”
Dawn turns and walks up the stairs, without looking back to see if Spike follows. She’s not a child and if Spike is just going to treat her like one she doesn’t need him around anyway.
She heads over to the small table in the corner of her room, pours herself a glass of tequila with somewhat shaking hands, and tosses back a good portion.
“Clearly. You’re much better at drinking than she ever was,” Spike is standing behind her.
“Not much of a compliment, Buffy gets wasted off of like half a wine cooler.”
“So, do I get any of that, or do you need the whole thing to yourself?” Spike indicates the bottle.
“Hardly, I have work tomorrow and I’m not a lightweight like my sister, but I’m not winning worldwide drinking contests any time soon,” she reaches over and more confidently pours Spike a drink. It’s good tequila, the kind you don’t have to mask with fruit and sugar.
Spike takes a drink, “Thanks, pet.”
Dawn nearly chokes on her tequila, “You’re still using ‘pet’… really?”
“Well, not so much recently. But familiar faces bring up old habits I suppose.”
Dawn tries to pretend she has no idea what he’s talking about by hiding her reaction with a gulp of alcohol. It burns. They sit there in silence; Dawn refills her glass, hands a little clumsier than before.
“You know. If you really want, you could come to the wedding with me.”
“Like as your date?”
Spike’s looking at her quizzically. Dawn feels stupid for having brought it up, it just makes her look like a desperate pathetic loser with no one to go to her sister’s wedding with but a vampire still in love with said sister.
“I guess it was a dumb idea. I was just thinking, you wanted to go and I have the plus one that I’m not exactly using… but never mind.”
More burning down her throat. She usually doesn’t drink this fast but she has to do something to keep from fidgeting like a nervous fifteen year old who has asked the most popular guy in school to the upcoming dance.
“You sure you aren’t doing this just to get a bit of a rise out of Buffy?” His voice is soft, kinder than Dawn expected, and it makes her even more aggravated.
“No. I’m a grown woman who doesn’t need to resort to shock tactics in order to gain my sister’s attention,” At the moment Dawn couldn’t feel any less like an adult or more like a sullen teenager, “I was trying to be nice but if you’d rather whine and complain than actually attend the wedding, even if it is with me, than that’s your loss.”
“Wait a minute. I didn’t say anything about not taking you up on your offer. I would very much like to go to that wedding, and I’d be happy to be your date.”
Dawn swallows, “I guess it’s a date then.”
“Good,” Spike smirks, “Let’s get back to work on this bottle here then. There is entirely too much alcohol left in it.”
In response, Dawn picks up the bottle and starts chugging directly from it. He follows suit and ending up lying under the table doesn’t seem at all odd about twenty minutes later. Or maybe it’s five minutes, or a few hours. Dawn sort of can’t tell except that it isn’t light out quite yet.
“Ima going to bed,” Dawn slurs, trying to sit up, hitting her head in the process, and deciding that crawling is better plan, “You can come too if you don’t wanna sleep on the flooor.”
Spike drags himself after her. It is fortunate that the bed is fairly close to the ground, because neither is moving very gracefully. It’s not so unlike many other nights in strange cities with strange men, except Spike isn’t making the bed unbearably hot, and he isn’t exactly a stranger. So much of it is familiar though
So when an arm wraps around her from behind and his hands brush against her skin as he pushes up her shirt, it’s not that different to lean back into his kiss and moan and feel her whole body respond as his thumb grazes one of her breasts ever so lightly. Hell, he’s Spike, and he’s a vampire, and he was in love with Buffy (who wasn’t), and he had sex with Buffy, and he tried to rape Buffy, but it’s late and there’s been tequila and it’s been too long since someone has touched her in a more than professional way. She flips around to straddle him, eyes half closed as she moves against him and tries not to admit to herself how many nights she’s fantasized about this sort of thing happening.
Yes he’s Spike, and the number of times she’s secretly imagined what he would be like are more than she’ll ever admit. Now they’re drunk and she’s neither pure and perfect like her earlier ideas or worldly and mysterious like she’d sometimes pretended she would be. She’s just horny and clumsy and his cool hard body feels amazing as she lifts his shift over his head with some difficulty and presses her skin against his.
It’s over too fast, and her skirt is up around her waist and she’s still drunk but the world is starting to seem a bit more real, and Dawn knows that this was a horrible mistake before anything is said. She’s had her share of jerks who never called back, but this is something else completely. This is the destruction of a fantasy and her failure to measure up and her soft underbelly completely exposed.
So she wobbles out of bed and tries to get her clothes back in the places they are supposed to be, and she doesn’t look at Spike and she wishes it wasn’t her room because then she could leave but she has no where to go since she’s already home, so to speak.
She waits for him to leave but he doesn’t, so she finally turns back around and he’s looking at her bitterly.
“Getting back at Buffy not quite as satisfying as you’d hoped?” Dawn snaps, “That’s what this all was, right? Punish Buffy for choosing Angel by banging her little sister? The laugh is on you though, because it’s not like I’ll ever tell her.”
“Me get back at Buffy? You’ve got to be bloody joking... You’re the one trying to prove that you’re all grown up now so she doesn’t have anything on you, particularly conquests.”
“I what?” Dawn isn’t sure if she’s too sober or still too drunk to be having this conversation, “You think that I slept with you just to prove a point?”
“Didn’t you?” Spike looks at her as if she’s the predator and he’s the victim.
“No. Like I told you before, I’m over doing things because of how I see myself in relation to my sister. Obviously this was a mistake, but it was more of the too much tequila sort than deep seeded issues.”
“If neither of us is trying to get back at Buffy, where’s the big mistake?” Spike seems like maybe he’s trying to be nice, “I know it’s been a while since I last -“
“Yeah, that was pretty obvious from your performance,” now it’s Dawn’s turn to wound.
“You know what? I don’t have to take this,” Spike is pulling up his pants; “If you want to be a defensive bitch then I’m leaving.”
And he does, still pulling on his shirt as he slams the door. Dawn feels a pang of regret, which she attributes to the fundamental stupidity of drunkenly sleeping with Spike. She really just wants to forget this night and prays that word of mouth doesn’t get back to anyone else from Sunnydale, because she doesn’t want to talk about it…… not ever again.
And it seems like she’s in luck; because, in the following months of wedding planning and bachelorette parties and wedding rehearsal with every mutual acquaintance they have, nobody mentions a word about it. He’s probably too embarrassed about his performance to say anything, and that suits Dawn fine. She tries not to think about it, of course. It’s not like she thinks about most of her other one night stands terribly much, and once the fear of being confronted about it dissipates everything is normal, well normal as everything can be when your sister is planning the wedding of the century.
She’s contemplating the pinkness of her bridesmaid gown in the entrance hall mirrors when she sees him out of the corner of her eye. Dawn tells herself it’s a trick of the light but when she turns and looks, it is definitely Spike, and he’s making his way over to her. He looks good, all dressed up and everything, but she’s more than a little annoyed at his presumptuousness in showing up here.
“Why don’t you look... pink,” Spike smiles with one side of his face.
“You should have seen it before I talked her out of the bows,” the reply slips out before her mouth registers that she’s angry with him and doesn’t want him here, “What are you doing here, Spike?”
“I’m your date, love. Or had you forgotten inviting me.”
“I didn’t forget. I just never thought you’d show up considering how we parted ways last time.”
Really Spike is impossible, acting like he doesn’t know why she’d be surprised.
“You mean after you fucked-“
Dawn’s hand shoots out of its own volition as she drags him behind a pillar.
“Could you please keep your voice down?”
“What? It’s not like half the people here … “
“I’m starting to think Angel was right to now want you here. It’s their day and all you want to do is cause a big scene so you’ll be the center of attention.”
“Do not…” Spike looks offended, and Dawn sort of wishes she could believe that isn’t why he is here.
“Look. If I have to wear Barbie pink, you can resist making a scene. You can stay. I did invite you, but only on the condition that you behave, and don’t make me regret this decision. If you so much as speak a word out of turn I will have you kicked out.”
And with that she walks off, feeling much more like the cold adult that she wanted to be last time she saw Spike.
“Dawn...” She can’t resist pausing for a moment, “You make that ridiculous pink look good.”
Sweetness isn’t his problem. He sort of is hers though, and she has to get back to Buffy before her sister notices she was gone. So she keeps on walking.
“Should I just stand in the back then, or is there a place for me.”
Letting Spike wander is just asking for trouble of the speak now or forever hold your peace kind. So Dawn backtracks and grabs Spike to lead him over to one of the half a dozen younger Slayers who are ushering.
“He needs a seat,” Dawn explains, “He’s my plus one.”
The girl mods, and Dawn thinks he is going to get seated without notice when Faith shows up, “Well if it isn’t William the not so Bloody… Not that it isn’t good to see familiar faces, but I don’t think you made it on the guest list.”
“He’s my plus one,” Dawn says hurriedly, “That is unless you guys calculated me not being able to find someone to go with into your calculations…”
Faith raises her eyebrows, “Well that’s interesting,” she replies with a close mouth smile, “And here I thought he was coming to object… Well go on and find the man a seat, Abbie.”
The girl snaps to attention, sure they’re all slayers but Buffy and Faith were still the first, the only ones who remember what it was like to be alone.
“There something I should know about?” Faith asks Dawn as Abbie leads Spike away.
“Not really, I can into Spike while I was down in Central America and inviting him seemed like the nice thing to do. He was pretty offended about not being invited.”
Faith gives Dawn a look that lets her know that she’s well aware that there’s more to the story.
“Okay, there might have been some inappropriate alcohol related aspects to that night, but it’s the only time I’ve seen him since Sunnydale until today. I didn’t even think he’d show.”
“To Angel and B’s wedding? The boy would have shown up even if he didn’t have anything resembling an invitation.”
Faith was right, an embarrassing incident with Dawn wasn’t about to encroach on his preoccupation with the two that were about to get married. She probably didn’t even register on his radar really.
They find Buffy having a fit about some trivial detail (seriously the girl needs some Xanex) and Dawn is mostly too busy trying to appease her to think that much about Spike until the ceremony starts.
She really doesn’t realize how worried she was about the situation until she feels a wave of relief as the time for objections comes and goes without incident. Spike sits quietly through the whole thing, and doesn’t even look bored or seem to mock the proceedings. He’s watching Dawn; of course, Dawn is probably watching him considering she notices this and Willow has to poke her to remind her to walk back down the aisle when the service ends.
Of course, he’s waiting for her at the reception. Dawn still isn’t sure why he came if not to make a scene. Faith rearranged things so that he could be seated with her, and Dawn is for the first time happy that Buffy decided to distribute the bridesmaids among the tables instead of having all of them sit with her. As a result, no one who knows Spike is sitting with them.
Unfortunately this means that she’s stuck with a bunch of slayerettes she doesn’t really like.
“So Dawn, who is your yummy looking date?” Jackie asks, full of fake friendliness.
“Will-“
“The name’s Spike. And who are you, pet?” He interrupts.
Great, he insists on being Dawn’s date to Buffy’s wedding just so he can find a new slayer to scam on.
“Jackie,” she replies with attitude, then one of the slightly less stupid girls whispers something in her ear and her eyes widen, “Wait you’re Spike. Like THE Spike?”
“The one and only,” Spike seems pleased with himself. Dawn rolls her eyes.
“So do you really have a soul?”
“Is it true that you and Buffy-“
“Is Angel going to-“
“Ladies, ladies, I’m not here to discuss ancient history. I’m here to spend some quality time with Dawn,” He stands and turns to Dawn, holding his hand out, “What do you say to a nice walk, get away from the crowd.”
She’s still sort of aggravated with Spike but she’d rather spend time with him than these insipid girls, and she sort of suspects he’s doing this to save her face. She puts her hand in his and he kisses it before helping her up.
They stroll out, arm in arm, and the cool costal breeze is a relief after the lights and all the people.
“Are they like that all the time?” Spike asks, in a tone of disbelief.
“Yep. Thus the reason I barely ever visit my sister. An army of slayers is useful for defeating evil, but in making them they created a sub race of entitled bitches…”
“They’re worse than the girls I grew up with.”
There’s a moment of silence. Spike never used to talk about his life before Drusilla turned him; Dawn supposes it’s the therapy that’s got him in a mood for talking.
“How so?”
“The women of my social set had no real claim to the superiority that they subscribed to the idea that they possessed. These girls here, well they have special powers to reinforce the idea.”
“Do you ever wish that Drusilla hadn’t turned you, that you’d gotten to live your life naturally?”
“I know I’m supposed to say yes but not really. My life was miserable. I had no skills with women, no real talent for anything, and my entire life revolved around my mother. None of that would have changed and I’d have died the loser I was at the time.”
“So the eternal life serves as a sort of unlimited set of opportunities to fix things about yourself?”
Dawn is starting to put together a new theory about what all of this is about.
“That’s about right. Not that I’ve taken the best advantage of it, mind you… But here I am with you, right? That’s something.”
“But what is it? Are you trying to find a way to have a do-over for the failure with Buffy? Is that why you are here?”
“I’m at the wedding; because, I need closure. I’m out here with you; because, I like to think that I’m a somewhat changed man, who could, maybe, try happiness that wasn’t wrapped up in killing and mayhem.”
“Happiness?”
“I think so. Dawn, I know there’s a lot of history standing between us, and I’m sorry about what happened in Costa Rica…”
“Sorry for sleeping with me?” Is Spike really just doing the therapeutic apologies?
“Sorry for being such a wanker about it. It’s just, it had been a while, and I know I sort of failed at the performance there so I was defensive…”
“Spike?”
“Yeah…”
“Have you been talking to your therapist about this?”
“Almost every session.”
“Everyone has bad hookups…”
“Oh sod the performance issues… I’ve been talking to him about you, Dawn.”
“Why?”
She’s really never expected to be anything in Spike’s psyche than a footnote to his feelings about Buffy.
“Because, I’ve always cared for you Dawn. Did you really think I stuck around, while Buffy was dead, because of her?”
“Well umm… kind of.”
If kind of meant spending nights lying in bed imagining otherwise. Dawn really knows that Spike is overly dramatic and probably just needs the attention, but she has played scenes like this out at night, mostly when she was younger, but not entirely.
“I didn’t. I stayed because of you Dawn. And you were just a little girl then, so I didn’t think about it in the same way, but you always treated me like a real person. And I had fun with you … good, clean, old fashioned fun. I should have found you a long time ago… I guess I was scared.”
“Scared? Of what?
“Of ruining things. That maybe once you’d grown up you would stop seeing me the way you used to and become just like the rest of them… Dozens of reasons, Dawn.”
Normally, Dawn would think anyone who was saying this kind of stuff was lying, but this is Spike and he generally means his ridiculous declarations.
“Are you sure you’re not just pining for a new obsession, Spike? Your therapist can’t be very good if he hasn’t talked to you about this issue.”
Spike needs to be in love, needs to pine and wallow and obsess. It is his addiction. Dawn is pretty sure that if he’s considering her as his next lady love, he’d be willing to keep it up until she died or at least a few years after she left him. Does that make it any more real, though?
“This isn’t just about that. You know I’ve been working on it…”
“So what is this about?”
“Let me make it up to you, the mistakes in Costa Rica, and the years I wasn’t around. Maybe you don’t want to, I can take that. But if you do, feel anything, then let me try.”
Dawn does want to. She doesn’t want to admit it, but there’s a little part of her teenage self left, that’s always wanted that. So maybe it’s dysfunctional or projection, or a hundred other things, but maybe it isn’t, and maybe it doesn’t really matter. Can it really be any worse than the sort of sleeping around that she’s been doing? So she kisses him, kisses him hard and lets his arms wrap around her. It’s a lot better now that they are not drunk. It is a lot better now that they’ve admitted it is intentional.
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Dawn/Spike
Rating: light R
Word Count: 4,782
Summary: Some things never change, except they do.
Warnings: Set 10 years post "Chosen" so spoilers obviously, references to Angel/Buffy, Spike/Buffy.
Written for silver_fic, although it's been long enough that she probably thought I had abandoned it.
She is doing a post-doc based in Belize and she’s been traveling all over Central America. This weekend it is Costa Rica and things are quiet enough, for once, that she decides to head down to this bar that she’s heard some of the native researchers mention. Apparently her Spanish is not as good as her understanding of some older Mezzo-American tongues; because, it isn’t the kind of bar a girl goes to get picked up so much as get preyed on.
Dawn spends a lot of her time around demons: they’re involved in her research, her sister is the original slayer, and she’s had more than one encounter of the supernatural type. Hell, Buffy’s wedding will have a sizable portion (she’s going to be sorry she went for the taffeta, just like Dawn warned her, when that Vokari demon starts doing his thing on the dance floor and it gets ripped to shreds.) But right now Dawn doesn’t have any sort of slayer or weapon with her, she’s not on duty, she’s just somebody’s idea of a tasty bite and she’s wandered right into the wrong side of town. Is it her fault party and gore sounded so similar?
She manages to back halfway down the alley before she slams right into something, or someone.
“Watch where you’re- Well look at what we have here?”
His voice is familiar, and a twist of her neck confirms her recognition.
“Spike?” Dawn isn’t sure exactly what she was expecting but this isn’t it. Sure, she’d heard from Faith that he was alive, but this wasn’t how she’d expected to see him again. Still, presuming he hadn’t gone and destroyed his soul or something, Spike was a vast improvement over the kind of freaks she’d seen in the area.
“Why if it isn’t the little bit, all growed up and still looking for trouble,” Spike never lost his accent the way that Angel did, and his voice is a welcome reminder of how things used to be, before they changed the world and all, somehow.
“Not exactly looking for it. I got confused about something my co-workers were talking about. I was looking for a bar to get preyed on sexuality, not in the sharp teeth and tentacles ones.”
She’s a grown woman, almost 30, and somehow it kind of feels like she’s fifteen all over again, getting caught for sneaking out of the house without her sister’s permission. Spike, at least, had never dragged her home. He’d been complicit in helping her, more than once.
“Sure you weren’t looking for me?” Spike smirks.
“Doubtful, considering the last time I heard any news of you whatsoever, you were in Tokyo,” Dawn manages a laugh that sounds a little more like her current self than the awkward teenager Spike used to know.
“So you do keep tabs on me then?”
“What do you want, Spike?” Dawn isn’t about to let herself be led around by Spike. Whatever his deal is these days, she’s not really in a mood to deal with it. He’s been gone for 10 years, and she’s totally gotten over any residual attachment she may have had from the past.
“Well I was going to offer to walk you home, that being the gentlemanly thing to do, but I guess your brother-in-law to be wouldn’t like that so I’d best be going.”
Spike turns to go, and Dawn knows he’s planning on her calling him back, but now she knows what he’s thinking about, and she could use an escort.
“Wait…. ” Spike turns but doesn’t step back towards her, “It’s good to see you, and I probably could use a little protection on the way back.”
Spike shrugs and steps into pace beside her.
He hasn’t changed at all, of course he hasn’t. He’ll never age. A soul doesn’t mean a mortal body. Dawn is still thinking of the past, all the times he walked her home back in Sunnydale, probably to impress Buffy. Buffy was younger than Dawn is now at the time. Dawn wonders how long it will take until Spike brings up what is on his mind. He isn’t notorious for being tight lipped.
“You know I haven’t gotten an invitation yet, don’t suppose it just got lost in the mail?”
Dawn never realized before, just how pathetic Spike could seem.
“Yeah, like you said. Angel… not so much a fan of you being on the guest list.”
“Angel eh? So Buffy wanted me there then?”
“Well, Buffy wanted pretty much everyone she’d ever met at there. If she was around, I’m sure she’d have invited Glory.”
“Girl always was crazy about weddings.”
Everyone was always crazy about Buffy. The thought has a bitterness to it that hasn’t been in her for almost a decade. It must be old reflexes. It is strange how Spike’s presence is bringing her back to her high school days, emotionally. It is even weirder that she doesn’t mind it.
“ If it helps, Faith voted yes to your being invited,” she offers.
“Let me guess, Harris voted against.”
“Giles, actually.”
“Figures.”
Spike kicks a rock down the roadway, the very semblance of a sulking child.
“Did you really want to go?”
“I wanted to be asked. I mean I’ve known Angel longer than Buffy has, and whatever she says now, Buffy and I… we had something,” the sound of tears is in his voice, “And it just, hurts, for them to act like none of it ever existed. Like I don’t exist. It’s all very well and happy for them, and their big happily ever after, but I’m out here on the fringes of the universe and I don’t matter to a single soul.”
“So you aren’t… seeing anyone?” Dawn’s aware it is a dumb question, but it’s the best response she can come up with to Spike’s melancholy. The other option is to tell him to stop acting like a sullen child, and she may be older now, but Dawn still doesn’t really feel like she can do that.
“Well the whole vampire with a soul thing really gets in the way, you know. Regular girls… well I’m still a vampire. And vampire women… well the whole them being evil and me being not turns out to be a bit of a problem. Besides, my therapist said I should try being alone for a while, discover who the real me is… not just the person I think is most likely to impress my lady love.”
“Your therapist?” Dawn’s pretty much laughing now.
“Yeah. Real nice bloke, charges through the teeth but he came highly recommended.”
So Spike’s single and doing therapy. Well, she supposes that it’s a good thing, with all the issues he has.
“So is he like a human, or a demon? Is there like a special branch of psychology devoted to the paranormal?” Dawn realizes she probably sounds like a nosy idiot, “Sorry. It’s just I never thought about how these things work in the demon world.”
“The demon world. Ha ha, very funny. It’s just like it is in your cozy little universe, and yes, he does specialize in reformed former power junkies, recovering witches like your pal Willow, the kind of guys who used to command zombie legions…”
“And vampires who used to be obsessed with killing Slayers, until becoming obsessed with sleeping with one and getting their souls back?”
“You know I don’t have to walk you home…”
“You have no sense of humor. I was just about to ask you if you wanted to come up for a drink, as we’re almost there, but I know how you love sulking so maybe I should hold off on that,” Dawn tries to sound condescending but feels nervous and expectant.
“A real drink? Or a glass of warm milk?”
“A real one. I don’t even think I have any milk.”
“Alright then. Mind you I can’t quite get over the concept of you offering me a drink, and how unfunny your sister would find it if I ever offered you one.”
Back to Buffy, of course.
“Luckily she doesn’t have much of anything to say about what I drink or with whom these days, being as I’m not sixteen anymore.”
Dawn turns and walks up the stairs, without looking back to see if Spike follows. She’s not a child and if Spike is just going to treat her like one she doesn’t need him around anyway.
She heads over to the small table in the corner of her room, pours herself a glass of tequila with somewhat shaking hands, and tosses back a good portion.
“Clearly. You’re much better at drinking than she ever was,” Spike is standing behind her.
“Not much of a compliment, Buffy gets wasted off of like half a wine cooler.”
“So, do I get any of that, or do you need the whole thing to yourself?” Spike indicates the bottle.
“Hardly, I have work tomorrow and I’m not a lightweight like my sister, but I’m not winning worldwide drinking contests any time soon,” she reaches over and more confidently pours Spike a drink. It’s good tequila, the kind you don’t have to mask with fruit and sugar.
Spike takes a drink, “Thanks, pet.”
Dawn nearly chokes on her tequila, “You’re still using ‘pet’… really?”
“Well, not so much recently. But familiar faces bring up old habits I suppose.”
Dawn tries to pretend she has no idea what he’s talking about by hiding her reaction with a gulp of alcohol. It burns. They sit there in silence; Dawn refills her glass, hands a little clumsier than before.
“You know. If you really want, you could come to the wedding with me.”
“Like as your date?”
Spike’s looking at her quizzically. Dawn feels stupid for having brought it up, it just makes her look like a desperate pathetic loser with no one to go to her sister’s wedding with but a vampire still in love with said sister.
“I guess it was a dumb idea. I was just thinking, you wanted to go and I have the plus one that I’m not exactly using… but never mind.”
More burning down her throat. She usually doesn’t drink this fast but she has to do something to keep from fidgeting like a nervous fifteen year old who has asked the most popular guy in school to the upcoming dance.
“You sure you aren’t doing this just to get a bit of a rise out of Buffy?” His voice is soft, kinder than Dawn expected, and it makes her even more aggravated.
“No. I’m a grown woman who doesn’t need to resort to shock tactics in order to gain my sister’s attention,” At the moment Dawn couldn’t feel any less like an adult or more like a sullen teenager, “I was trying to be nice but if you’d rather whine and complain than actually attend the wedding, even if it is with me, than that’s your loss.”
“Wait a minute. I didn’t say anything about not taking you up on your offer. I would very much like to go to that wedding, and I’d be happy to be your date.”
Dawn swallows, “I guess it’s a date then.”
“Good,” Spike smirks, “Let’s get back to work on this bottle here then. There is entirely too much alcohol left in it.”
In response, Dawn picks up the bottle and starts chugging directly from it. He follows suit and ending up lying under the table doesn’t seem at all odd about twenty minutes later. Or maybe it’s five minutes, or a few hours. Dawn sort of can’t tell except that it isn’t light out quite yet.
“Ima going to bed,” Dawn slurs, trying to sit up, hitting her head in the process, and deciding that crawling is better plan, “You can come too if you don’t wanna sleep on the flooor.”
Spike drags himself after her. It is fortunate that the bed is fairly close to the ground, because neither is moving very gracefully. It’s not so unlike many other nights in strange cities with strange men, except Spike isn’t making the bed unbearably hot, and he isn’t exactly a stranger. So much of it is familiar though
So when an arm wraps around her from behind and his hands brush against her skin as he pushes up her shirt, it’s not that different to lean back into his kiss and moan and feel her whole body respond as his thumb grazes one of her breasts ever so lightly. Hell, he’s Spike, and he’s a vampire, and he was in love with Buffy (who wasn’t), and he had sex with Buffy, and he tried to rape Buffy, but it’s late and there’s been tequila and it’s been too long since someone has touched her in a more than professional way. She flips around to straddle him, eyes half closed as she moves against him and tries not to admit to herself how many nights she’s fantasized about this sort of thing happening.
Yes he’s Spike, and the number of times she’s secretly imagined what he would be like are more than she’ll ever admit. Now they’re drunk and she’s neither pure and perfect like her earlier ideas or worldly and mysterious like she’d sometimes pretended she would be. She’s just horny and clumsy and his cool hard body feels amazing as she lifts his shift over his head with some difficulty and presses her skin against his.
It’s over too fast, and her skirt is up around her waist and she’s still drunk but the world is starting to seem a bit more real, and Dawn knows that this was a horrible mistake before anything is said. She’s had her share of jerks who never called back, but this is something else completely. This is the destruction of a fantasy and her failure to measure up and her soft underbelly completely exposed.
So she wobbles out of bed and tries to get her clothes back in the places they are supposed to be, and she doesn’t look at Spike and she wishes it wasn’t her room because then she could leave but she has no where to go since she’s already home, so to speak.
She waits for him to leave but he doesn’t, so she finally turns back around and he’s looking at her bitterly.
“Getting back at Buffy not quite as satisfying as you’d hoped?” Dawn snaps, “That’s what this all was, right? Punish Buffy for choosing Angel by banging her little sister? The laugh is on you though, because it’s not like I’ll ever tell her.”
“Me get back at Buffy? You’ve got to be bloody joking... You’re the one trying to prove that you’re all grown up now so she doesn’t have anything on you, particularly conquests.”
“I what?” Dawn isn’t sure if she’s too sober or still too drunk to be having this conversation, “You think that I slept with you just to prove a point?”
“Didn’t you?” Spike looks at her as if she’s the predator and he’s the victim.
“No. Like I told you before, I’m over doing things because of how I see myself in relation to my sister. Obviously this was a mistake, but it was more of the too much tequila sort than deep seeded issues.”
“If neither of us is trying to get back at Buffy, where’s the big mistake?” Spike seems like maybe he’s trying to be nice, “I know it’s been a while since I last -“
“Yeah, that was pretty obvious from your performance,” now it’s Dawn’s turn to wound.
“You know what? I don’t have to take this,” Spike is pulling up his pants; “If you want to be a defensive bitch then I’m leaving.”
And he does, still pulling on his shirt as he slams the door. Dawn feels a pang of regret, which she attributes to the fundamental stupidity of drunkenly sleeping with Spike. She really just wants to forget this night and prays that word of mouth doesn’t get back to anyone else from Sunnydale, because she doesn’t want to talk about it…… not ever again.
And it seems like she’s in luck; because, in the following months of wedding planning and bachelorette parties and wedding rehearsal with every mutual acquaintance they have, nobody mentions a word about it. He’s probably too embarrassed about his performance to say anything, and that suits Dawn fine. She tries not to think about it, of course. It’s not like she thinks about most of her other one night stands terribly much, and once the fear of being confronted about it dissipates everything is normal, well normal as everything can be when your sister is planning the wedding of the century.
She’s contemplating the pinkness of her bridesmaid gown in the entrance hall mirrors when she sees him out of the corner of her eye. Dawn tells herself it’s a trick of the light but when she turns and looks, it is definitely Spike, and he’s making his way over to her. He looks good, all dressed up and everything, but she’s more than a little annoyed at his presumptuousness in showing up here.
“Why don’t you look... pink,” Spike smiles with one side of his face.
“You should have seen it before I talked her out of the bows,” the reply slips out before her mouth registers that she’s angry with him and doesn’t want him here, “What are you doing here, Spike?”
“I’m your date, love. Or had you forgotten inviting me.”
“I didn’t forget. I just never thought you’d show up considering how we parted ways last time.”
Really Spike is impossible, acting like he doesn’t know why she’d be surprised.
“You mean after you fucked-“
Dawn’s hand shoots out of its own volition as she drags him behind a pillar.
“Could you please keep your voice down?”
“What? It’s not like half the people here … “
“I’m starting to think Angel was right to now want you here. It’s their day and all you want to do is cause a big scene so you’ll be the center of attention.”
“Do not…” Spike looks offended, and Dawn sort of wishes she could believe that isn’t why he is here.
“Look. If I have to wear Barbie pink, you can resist making a scene. You can stay. I did invite you, but only on the condition that you behave, and don’t make me regret this decision. If you so much as speak a word out of turn I will have you kicked out.”
And with that she walks off, feeling much more like the cold adult that she wanted to be last time she saw Spike.
“Dawn...” She can’t resist pausing for a moment, “You make that ridiculous pink look good.”
Sweetness isn’t his problem. He sort of is hers though, and she has to get back to Buffy before her sister notices she was gone. So she keeps on walking.
“Should I just stand in the back then, or is there a place for me.”
Letting Spike wander is just asking for trouble of the speak now or forever hold your peace kind. So Dawn backtracks and grabs Spike to lead him over to one of the half a dozen younger Slayers who are ushering.
“He needs a seat,” Dawn explains, “He’s my plus one.”
The girl mods, and Dawn thinks he is going to get seated without notice when Faith shows up, “Well if it isn’t William the not so Bloody… Not that it isn’t good to see familiar faces, but I don’t think you made it on the guest list.”
“He’s my plus one,” Dawn says hurriedly, “That is unless you guys calculated me not being able to find someone to go with into your calculations…”
Faith raises her eyebrows, “Well that’s interesting,” she replies with a close mouth smile, “And here I thought he was coming to object… Well go on and find the man a seat, Abbie.”
The girl snaps to attention, sure they’re all slayers but Buffy and Faith were still the first, the only ones who remember what it was like to be alone.
“There something I should know about?” Faith asks Dawn as Abbie leads Spike away.
“Not really, I can into Spike while I was down in Central America and inviting him seemed like the nice thing to do. He was pretty offended about not being invited.”
Faith gives Dawn a look that lets her know that she’s well aware that there’s more to the story.
“Okay, there might have been some inappropriate alcohol related aspects to that night, but it’s the only time I’ve seen him since Sunnydale until today. I didn’t even think he’d show.”
“To Angel and B’s wedding? The boy would have shown up even if he didn’t have anything resembling an invitation.”
Faith was right, an embarrassing incident with Dawn wasn’t about to encroach on his preoccupation with the two that were about to get married. She probably didn’t even register on his radar really.
They find Buffy having a fit about some trivial detail (seriously the girl needs some Xanex) and Dawn is mostly too busy trying to appease her to think that much about Spike until the ceremony starts.
She really doesn’t realize how worried she was about the situation until she feels a wave of relief as the time for objections comes and goes without incident. Spike sits quietly through the whole thing, and doesn’t even look bored or seem to mock the proceedings. He’s watching Dawn; of course, Dawn is probably watching him considering she notices this and Willow has to poke her to remind her to walk back down the aisle when the service ends.
Of course, he’s waiting for her at the reception. Dawn still isn’t sure why he came if not to make a scene. Faith rearranged things so that he could be seated with her, and Dawn is for the first time happy that Buffy decided to distribute the bridesmaids among the tables instead of having all of them sit with her. As a result, no one who knows Spike is sitting with them.
Unfortunately this means that she’s stuck with a bunch of slayerettes she doesn’t really like.
“So Dawn, who is your yummy looking date?” Jackie asks, full of fake friendliness.
“Will-“
“The name’s Spike. And who are you, pet?” He interrupts.
Great, he insists on being Dawn’s date to Buffy’s wedding just so he can find a new slayer to scam on.
“Jackie,” she replies with attitude, then one of the slightly less stupid girls whispers something in her ear and her eyes widen, “Wait you’re Spike. Like THE Spike?”
“The one and only,” Spike seems pleased with himself. Dawn rolls her eyes.
“So do you really have a soul?”
“Is it true that you and Buffy-“
“Is Angel going to-“
“Ladies, ladies, I’m not here to discuss ancient history. I’m here to spend some quality time with Dawn,” He stands and turns to Dawn, holding his hand out, “What do you say to a nice walk, get away from the crowd.”
She’s still sort of aggravated with Spike but she’d rather spend time with him than these insipid girls, and she sort of suspects he’s doing this to save her face. She puts her hand in his and he kisses it before helping her up.
They stroll out, arm in arm, and the cool costal breeze is a relief after the lights and all the people.
“Are they like that all the time?” Spike asks, in a tone of disbelief.
“Yep. Thus the reason I barely ever visit my sister. An army of slayers is useful for defeating evil, but in making them they created a sub race of entitled bitches…”
“They’re worse than the girls I grew up with.”
There’s a moment of silence. Spike never used to talk about his life before Drusilla turned him; Dawn supposes it’s the therapy that’s got him in a mood for talking.
“How so?”
“The women of my social set had no real claim to the superiority that they subscribed to the idea that they possessed. These girls here, well they have special powers to reinforce the idea.”
“Do you ever wish that Drusilla hadn’t turned you, that you’d gotten to live your life naturally?”
“I know I’m supposed to say yes but not really. My life was miserable. I had no skills with women, no real talent for anything, and my entire life revolved around my mother. None of that would have changed and I’d have died the loser I was at the time.”
“So the eternal life serves as a sort of unlimited set of opportunities to fix things about yourself?”
Dawn is starting to put together a new theory about what all of this is about.
“That’s about right. Not that I’ve taken the best advantage of it, mind you… But here I am with you, right? That’s something.”
“But what is it? Are you trying to find a way to have a do-over for the failure with Buffy? Is that why you are here?”
“I’m at the wedding; because, I need closure. I’m out here with you; because, I like to think that I’m a somewhat changed man, who could, maybe, try happiness that wasn’t wrapped up in killing and mayhem.”
“Happiness?”
“I think so. Dawn, I know there’s a lot of history standing between us, and I’m sorry about what happened in Costa Rica…”
“Sorry for sleeping with me?” Is Spike really just doing the therapeutic apologies?
“Sorry for being such a wanker about it. It’s just, it had been a while, and I know I sort of failed at the performance there so I was defensive…”
“Spike?”
“Yeah…”
“Have you been talking to your therapist about this?”
“Almost every session.”
“Everyone has bad hookups…”
“Oh sod the performance issues… I’ve been talking to him about you, Dawn.”
“Why?”
She’s really never expected to be anything in Spike’s psyche than a footnote to his feelings about Buffy.
“Because, I’ve always cared for you Dawn. Did you really think I stuck around, while Buffy was dead, because of her?”
“Well umm… kind of.”
If kind of meant spending nights lying in bed imagining otherwise. Dawn really knows that Spike is overly dramatic and probably just needs the attention, but she has played scenes like this out at night, mostly when she was younger, but not entirely.
“I didn’t. I stayed because of you Dawn. And you were just a little girl then, so I didn’t think about it in the same way, but you always treated me like a real person. And I had fun with you … good, clean, old fashioned fun. I should have found you a long time ago… I guess I was scared.”
“Scared? Of what?
“Of ruining things. That maybe once you’d grown up you would stop seeing me the way you used to and become just like the rest of them… Dozens of reasons, Dawn.”
Normally, Dawn would think anyone who was saying this kind of stuff was lying, but this is Spike and he generally means his ridiculous declarations.
“Are you sure you’re not just pining for a new obsession, Spike? Your therapist can’t be very good if he hasn’t talked to you about this issue.”
Spike needs to be in love, needs to pine and wallow and obsess. It is his addiction. Dawn is pretty sure that if he’s considering her as his next lady love, he’d be willing to keep it up until she died or at least a few years after she left him. Does that make it any more real, though?
“This isn’t just about that. You know I’ve been working on it…”
“So what is this about?”
“Let me make it up to you, the mistakes in Costa Rica, and the years I wasn’t around. Maybe you don’t want to, I can take that. But if you do, feel anything, then let me try.”
Dawn does want to. She doesn’t want to admit it, but there’s a little part of her teenage self left, that’s always wanted that. So maybe it’s dysfunctional or projection, or a hundred other things, but maybe it isn’t, and maybe it doesn’t really matter. Can it really be any worse than the sort of sleeping around that she’s been doing? So she kisses him, kisses him hard and lets his arms wrap around her. It’s a lot better now that they are not drunk. It is a lot better now that they’ve admitted it is intentional.