Lamentation [Buffy Fic]
Lamentation
Sydney Alexis
It had been years since I had seen him, but I was determined to tell him goodbye at the very least. Xander and Willow hadn't seemed all that happy about my request, but they did as I asked. It wouldn't be difficult to find him; his reputation for killing his own kind preceded him. Besides, I didn't ask for much these days. Not like they didn't already do for a ton of things for me now already. Sort of ironic if you think about it. Ten years before I was doing everything in my power to get into enough trouble to be noticed, and now all I want is to be left alone. Course they won't do that. Too worried something will happen to me if they leave me alone. Suppose that's how I figured out how bad it was- the extra attention that is. Buffy patrolled less to be with me. Said she'd make up the time later on. The nights she was with me Xander, Anya, and Willow went out in her place. The only time she would break the routine was when there was something she *had* to deal with. Then, one of the other Scoobies would babysit me. Me? I was grown woman that barely had the strength to get out of bed anymore. Won't be much longer. I know it. I can feel it and see it in their faces.
The TV was on when I asked Xander. I remember it in the background. Funny if you think about it. Mom had always refused to let me have one in my room. Now I have the one that use to be in the living room in here. Buffy said it made more sense; everyone spent most of the day in my bedroom now. My bedroom. Used to be my mother's. Will's in my old room. She made the move without complaint or question; the medical equipment takes a lot more space than my old room has to offer.
When I was stronger, I'd go downstairs, lay on the couch, and watch TV. Haven't been able to get downstairs by myself in over six months. Buffy used to bring me down there but stopped after I got out of the hospital the last time. I think she was worried she'd find me like she found Mom. So, I spend almost all day here in my mother's old bed sometimes reading, sometimes watching TV. Once a day Will stops by and helps me with my work. This was Giles' idea-- taking correspondence courses from UC-Sunnydale. He said that having a tangible goal would give me something to look forward to. Personally, I think it's a waste of time. I won't live long enough to need a degree. Of course, I don't tell them that. They're still hoping it will magickally go into remission.
I wonder if this is some sort of cosmic punishment for wanting Buffy to stay or trying to bring Mom back. Then I remember what Buffy said after she came back-- that this place was hell and that everything was safe and warm where she was. I think she's right. I'm in so much pain now I think it'll be a blessing.
My mind wanders back to the man standing at the end of my bed clutching a computer print out and staring at me expectantly. I know he's ask me something, but I don't remember what. Side effect of the pain killers I suppose.
"Dawnie?" A soft voice calls. "You sure about this?"
My eyes narrow at Xander, but I don't say anything. I know he's just worried about me. I also know there is nothing that Spike would do to every hurt me.
"Yeah, Xander. I am."
"Will's taking off this evening to find him. He's in San Diego according to one of Willy's contacts. Do you want her to tell him or..."
I lower my eyes instantly. He has a right to know what to expect I suppose. Probably wouldn't come back to this place without some explanation. I nod my head slowly. "Yeah, Xander," I replied softly, hearing my words crack with heavy emotion. Every 'homecoming' Spike's ever had has been painful. Why break tradition?
There's a soft knock on my flat's door, but I ignore it. Everyone in my circle knows 'bout my skin allergy. Probably some bloody solicitor or such nonsense wantin' to know if I've accepted the Savior yet. Bloody nonsense if you ask me. If there is a God, he's got a sick sense of humor. Settin' me up with a crazy, cheatin' bint then Harmony. As if I hadn't suffered enough Buffy came along and mucked m' life up more.
The knockin's more insistent now. Gettin' so a bloke can't get some sleep.
"Spike, are you in there?" I recognized that voice. Can't be her. Not bloody likely that they'd come after me after all these years. What? Slayer needs the evil undead for a little more horizontal tango. "Please, Spike, it's important."
Bloody well bet it is...to her. Poor plannin' on the Slayer's part doesn't constitute an emergency on mine. Tempted to yell that at the bint, but my brain chooses to simplify it. "Sod off," I yell in the general direction of the door, drawing the covers up 'round me more.
"I wouldn't have come if it wasn't important. You know that."
By this point, I know she won't give up. Probably out there with her arms crossed and that annoying 'resolve face' plastered. I left out a puff of exasperation as I get up out of bed and slip on the nearest pair of jeans. I unlock the door, careful to avoid the sunlight.
"What's with all the noise, Red?"
She tilts her head to the side and regards me. "Can I come in?" I feel my eyebrow raise. Since when did the Scoobies get manners?
"Suit yourself."
She slips past me and evaluates the room while I close the door. "Nice place. Bit spartan, but better than the crypt."
"Not in the mood to make nice, Red. I know you're here for somethin'. Spill it so I can get some more rest."
"It's kinda complicated, Spike, in an intense sorta way. You might wanna sit."
"Not complicated. The lot of you need something and my guess is that I'm that only one that can get my hands on it. Either that are you've got some evil thing you need help slaying. Right so far?"
Willow shook her head slowly. She had *that* expression on her face again- the one she had the night Giles had to tell Buffy that the only way to close the portal if that Glory bird opened it was to kill Dawn. I sighed and sank down onto the well-worn mattress of my bed. "What is it then."
"It's Dawnie..." she started, shifting uncomfortably in the chair across from me. I felt my chest tighten. She also had that look she wore after Tara died- defeated and broken. This was definitely not going to be happy news.
"Don't tell me some undead evil took the lil' bit out," I said, softly, hands fumbling with my lighter.
"No, Spike. No evil...well... not exactly."
"Wha's that suppose to mean, Red?"
The Wiccan was lookin' everywhere but at me. Not a good sign in my book.
"Dawnie's dying, Spike."
"What?" I said dumbly. All conscious thought leaving me. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion- the tears, the feel of the mattress dippin', Red's hand on my shoulder. "There's got to be some sort of mistake..."
"She's got cancer...at least that's what the doctors think that it is. It's spread to her lungs. Won't be much longer now."
I paused to take in what she had said. "What they think it is?" I repeated, turning towards her. "They aren't sure?"
"Xander and I think that it might have more to do with what she is...or was," she paused a beat and continued. "You remember how those scrolls you and Xander found at the Doctor's place said that The Key was created to allow Glory a means back into her dimension?"
I nodded my head, shifting in my seat. Even at the mention of that crazy god's name was enough to make me uncomfortable. The Scoobies pretty much avoided the topic all together.
"Well... you see, Glory was only given so many years before she, or rather the host body would die."
"And if the bint isn't around any more than The Key wouldn't be needed any more."
"It's the only explanation that I can come up with."
"So where do I fit in with all of this? You need my help to hunt someone down or find someone to do the spell for you... I know a few blokes. No where near as powerful as you, but they could probably work the magicks..."
A warm hand reached out and covered mine. Wasn't until then that I realized I was shaking.
"Spike," Red said softly. "Dawn doesn't have a lot of time left-- a week or more. She asked Xander and I to track you down so that she could say goodbye.
I moved without thinking, packing my belongings into the deSoto without a glace back at my flat. Willow was waiting in the passenger seat the whole time, staring out at the trees that lined the street. I could only imagine what she was thinking. She'd lost Tara and her parents the same year. All she had left was Buffy, Xander, and Dawn. Dawn would be gone in a matter of time. Buffy's expiration date was well past due, and Xander was married to Anya. Didn't leave her with much of a family.
I climbed in behind the wheel and sped off toward Sunnydale, speeding all the way. We travelled a good twenty minutes before either of us spoke.
"Is this where you've been hiding all these years?"
Her voice was soft, even, and non-accusin'. Just like Red. "Around. Travelled a lot."
"And you couldn't call?"
"Did. I called the bit once an' got an earful," I said, keepin' my eyes locked on the road ahead. I remembered that conversation clearly. "Spent the first ten minutes yellin' at me for tryin' what I did on Buffy and the next twenty or so tellin' me 'bout that wanker Warren."
I saw Red stiffen in the corner of my eye, but decided to continue. "Sorry to hear 'bout Pixie. Right sweet girl she was."
"Did she tell you all of it?" she asked, turnin' to look at me with those soulful eyes.
"You mean the bit 'bout you skinnin' the git alive and tryin' to end the world?" She nodded seriously. "Might have mentioned it." I paused, sensing her unease at the topic. "Can't say I wouldn' do the same if he'd done it to any of Scoobs....'cept maybe the whelp." That earned me a slight smile.
Red finally turned to look at me, tiltin' her head to the side just slightly. "What happened to you, Spike?"
I paused and looked at her. "Know how you feel 'bout killin' Warren?" She nodded. "'magine what it would feel like knowin' you kill hundreds of people."
"Never bothered you before."
"Never had a soul before."
Willow called late that afternoon while Spike was packing up his things to let me know that they were on their way. Knowing the way that he drove, they would probably pull up in a little over three hours...unless they hit LA rush hour. Ever since her call, I had grown more apprehensive. The gang had watched me as I got worse. They knew I could barely get out of bed for more than a handful of minutes without needing to lay or sit down and catch my breath, listening to my dying lungs wheeze for much needed air.
Sighing, I turned the TV off. Only soap operas, talk shows, and cartoons played at this hour. As I reached over to grab the old stack of Cosmos Anya had left me, I noticed the tattered sleeve of my night gown, and realized I must look like a mess.
My pride always did get the best of me. I threw back the covers and sat at the edge of the bed for a long minute, waiting for the dizziness to subside. I padded across the carpet at my usual snail's pace, and walked straight to the tub, sitting on the edge to draw the water and catch my breath again.
I was always naturally thin, but now I look like one of those starving kids on all those informercials. The latest round of chemo left me weak. The pills I had to take pretty much ate a hole in my stomach. Now, I get fed through an IV. I survive on the supplements that get pumped through my veins. I also get pain meds that way...they work sometimes I guess. Kind of funny if you think about it; I'm dying and my doctor is worried about me becoming a drug addict.
I slip into the tub and sigh with relief. The water feels good...not as good as the shower used to. Just another reminder of my illness; I'm too weak to stand long enough to bathe. Wonder how much longer I'll even be able to get out of bed.
My chest starts to feel tight and my throat constricts. I start coughing violently like I've taken to doing so much recently. I know, instinctively that I've been away from my oxygen tank for too long. I ease myself on the edge, listening to myself wheeze heavily this time. I close my eyes, concentrating on just breathing, but each one becomes more labored. I draw a towel around me willing myself to calm down.
"Dawnie?" Xander's voice calls from downstairs. Not as if I can exactly yell back. Not as if he doesn't know where I am. I hear his steps on approaching my room, as soft knock on the door.
"Dawnster? I brought you more books. An picked them so I can't say if they're safe." A beat later he knocked on the bathroom door. "Dawn?" His knock is justified. This wasn't the first time I had nearly passed out on the bathroom floor. The last time had landed me in the hospital in a hyperbaric chamber.
"Xan...," I managed to huff out. It's all he needs though. He's in the room, whisking me back into my mother's bed without a word. That fearful, angry expression on his face. He pauses to hand me my mask and turns the oxygen up a little more. I sigh with relief as the blackness is pushed back to the edges of my vision.
"We've discussed you being up and about without anyone here before Dawnie. Do it again and I'm afraid I'll have to chain you down."
"I'm sure Anya would let you borrow her set," I said, rolling my eyes at him. I pause a beat and then smile at him. "Thanks, Xander."
He nods. "Xan man to the rescue. Just don't make it a habit."
I get to the Slayer's house and I swear I can feel m'self shakin'. No doubt if I was a human my heart would be thumping a mile a minute in my chest. I know she's in there; can sense her and hear her heart beat. Can't hear the bit's thought. Might be too weak. Would suspect as much if what the ex-Wiccan was tellin' me is true.
I snuff out my fag with the tip of my boot and raise my hand to knock when the door opens.
"Spike," she says, relief floodin' into her eyes. I pause for a minute, not expecting what comes next. Hittin' me in the nose...stakin' me good and proper, such, but she just steps back to let me enter. It's then that I notice there is no barrier up. I slip past her into the foyer and nod to her then the git and demon girl.
"Dawnie's upstair's in Mom's old room," Buffy says softly. "She's been waiting for you all day."
I pause. No quips or blows are exchanged. No yelling. Just acceptance. I nod and turn to climb the stairs. My hand rests on the knob before I turn the door, preparing myself for what I would find on the other side, but nothing really could.
She was sittin' there in the soft glow of the lamp beside her, reading a worn tome I distinctly recognized as one of my own. Even when Dru was ill she'd never looked this frail...or that thin. She had tubes coming out of every direction. An IV, a heart monitor keepin' an irregular pattern, and, the most grievous of all was the lil' tubes comin' out from her nose like she couldn't breath fully on her own.
"Spike," she says, a warm smile brightening her face.
"Hey bit. Long time."
"Yeah," she says, motioning for me to come sit beside her. I do. First thing I notice is the dark circles under her eyes and the slightly glazed look from a mixture of too much pain and pain killers that are barely masking it.
Before the soul, I would have been upset to the point of gettin' angry at my inability to beat whatever was doing this to her to a bloody pulp. Then, I'd've spent the next few months drinkin' m'self into oblivion, thinkin' 'bout how it effect me and mine. Now, I'm fightin' back tears as I stroke her face.
"Oh, 'bit. Just isn't fair."
She shrugged. "Nothing in life's fair, Spike. I learned that a long time ago."
There's such wisdom there and age. Neither one of which should be there.
She starts talkin'...tellin' me all about her life the past ten years, an' I just sit an' listen. As the story went on, the light left her face. She stopped just short of when she really started to get sick, looked at me, and smiled.
"So...what have you been up to?"
I stayed up well past dawn speakin' to the bit. She finally fell asleep after Red came in to inject her medicine into the IV bag. I slipped out of the room and decided to face the others downstairs
He came back after sunset, and we started to talk again. Sometimes about movies, poetry, the 'novels' Anya would send over to read, sometimes the Scoobies. We were deep into one of the more heavy subjects-- his trip to Africa-- when one of my spells came on me. I turned up the oxygen and leaned forward, desperately trying to catch my breath.
Spike slipped behind me, rubbing my back, waiting for the spasms to stop.
"I can't do this anymore," I said softly, mouth and nose covered by the plastic mask. "It hurts too much."
"Yes, you can, Dawn, you're a strong girl. Just fight it." I nodded my head. "I thought Willow told you on the way here; I'm dying. There is no 'fighting it,' Spike."
His jaw clenched and he looked away from me into my reflection in the TV set. "I don't accept that." I caught his hand, causing his eyes to drop to mine. "I asked you here to say goodbye...and to ask you a favor...two actually."
"Anything, nibblet."
I shook my head. "You have the right to say no. I'll accept it. Just promise me that you'll think about it before you refuse?" He nodded and I plowed right ahead. "First, you have to promise me that you'll make sure that they cremate me. I don't want to be brought back when I go."
"Done," he said, voice thick with emotion.
I mentally steeled myself against the next part. He would be furious, and probably yell, but I had to ask. "Spike, do you remember how you promised to take care of me?"
"Yeah, bit. 'Til the end of the world," he said, squeezing my shoulder with the arm that still held me up.
"And you know that I'll love you no matter what you say. I mean you're still like a big brother to me."
He smiled and nodded, tears threatening to fall again. I sighed. I knew I should have just asked without all the fanfare. This had worked so much better when I was running through it in my mind.
"I wasn't lying when I said that I couldn't do this anymore, Spike. I'm in so sick I can barely make it to the bathroom on my own. I haven't been outside in almost a year. I can't have any friends over...even if I still had any friends because I have to worry about them getting me sick...I just can't live like this anymore."
His eyes looked at me with such sympathy then that I finally had the strength to ask. "Will you help me?" I said, intentionally vague, begging him silently with my eyes to understand my meaning.
I watched his face distort from sympathy to confusion to anger and then a mixture of all three. "Hell no, bit. I'm not gonna help you in your suicide mission. What if the Slayer and her lot find a cure?"
"There is no cure, Spike. And I think that it would be as much a relief to them as it would be for me."
"I can't help you," he said, closing his eyes, letting tears fall from his cheeks unchecked. I knew it was the soul and the human that kept him from doing it.
"Remember how you felt when you were in that chair...or when you first got the implant. You couldn't do anything for yourself. You were weak and vulnerable..."
"And wanted nothing more than to stake yourself..."
"Bloody nearly did. Red was the one that stopped me."
"And Will was the one that went and found you and brought you to me."
"I didn't sign on for this, pet."
"Did you talk to the others while I was asleep?"
He nodded.
"Then you probably noticed how tired they all are. How little they do other than take care of me. How worried their are about paying for the next month's worth of medical bills."
"You're more important that money, ducks."
"What they didn't say...what I know you picked up on is that it would be a relief to all of them. Sure they'll grieve, but they've been expecting this. I've said my goodbyes to them a thousand times over. I hurt all the time...I've ceased to be who I was. Please, Spike. You're the only one that will help me. You don't have to do anything other than bring my meds up here. I'll do the rest."
Her heart's pounding in her chest in an irregular rhythm. Red told me it's been like that since her heart gave out on her a few months ago during surgery. I listen to the ragged breath, and I swear I can almost smell the death that clings to her. There's such a look of resolve on her face, and I know that, if I don't help her, she'll do something drastic and stupid.
She reminds me of my brushes with a life like this, and I feel myself crush under the weight of the implications. Was it selfish of the lot of us to keep her around or was her askin' me to help her the truly selfish act?
The demon in me was screamin' out to drain her dry, and the soul in me was lamenting the fact that the youngest of all of us was dyin'. I promised to protect the bit...was I supposed to protect her from herself and the Scoobies too?
I leave her side and go to the dresser top that has all of her medicine. I fill needle with her pain medication and return to her side, she smiles and takes it from me, inserting the tip into the IV bag and pushing in the plunger. I resume my spot beside her, taking her hand in mine. I can tell that it's working through her system quickly as a far away look comes to her eyes.
"Thank you," she says softly, and then, "I love you, Spike."
"Love you too, Dawn."
She squeezed my hand one last time before she closed her eyes. Within seconds her hand's grip was released. Then she stopped breathing. Her heart stopped last.
Sydney Alexis
It had been years since I had seen him, but I was determined to tell him goodbye at the very least. Xander and Willow hadn't seemed all that happy about my request, but they did as I asked. It wouldn't be difficult to find him; his reputation for killing his own kind preceded him. Besides, I didn't ask for much these days. Not like they didn't already do for a ton of things for me now already. Sort of ironic if you think about it. Ten years before I was doing everything in my power to get into enough trouble to be noticed, and now all I want is to be left alone. Course they won't do that. Too worried something will happen to me if they leave me alone. Suppose that's how I figured out how bad it was- the extra attention that is. Buffy patrolled less to be with me. Said she'd make up the time later on. The nights she was with me Xander, Anya, and Willow went out in her place. The only time she would break the routine was when there was something she *had* to deal with. Then, one of the other Scoobies would babysit me. Me? I was grown woman that barely had the strength to get out of bed anymore. Won't be much longer. I know it. I can feel it and see it in their faces.
The TV was on when I asked Xander. I remember it in the background. Funny if you think about it. Mom had always refused to let me have one in my room. Now I have the one that use to be in the living room in here. Buffy said it made more sense; everyone spent most of the day in my bedroom now. My bedroom. Used to be my mother's. Will's in my old room. She made the move without complaint or question; the medical equipment takes a lot more space than my old room has to offer.
When I was stronger, I'd go downstairs, lay on the couch, and watch TV. Haven't been able to get downstairs by myself in over six months. Buffy used to bring me down there but stopped after I got out of the hospital the last time. I think she was worried she'd find me like she found Mom. So, I spend almost all day here in my mother's old bed sometimes reading, sometimes watching TV. Once a day Will stops by and helps me with my work. This was Giles' idea-- taking correspondence courses from UC-Sunnydale. He said that having a tangible goal would give me something to look forward to. Personally, I think it's a waste of time. I won't live long enough to need a degree. Of course, I don't tell them that. They're still hoping it will magickally go into remission.
I wonder if this is some sort of cosmic punishment for wanting Buffy to stay or trying to bring Mom back. Then I remember what Buffy said after she came back-- that this place was hell and that everything was safe and warm where she was. I think she's right. I'm in so much pain now I think it'll be a blessing.
My mind wanders back to the man standing at the end of my bed clutching a computer print out and staring at me expectantly. I know he's ask me something, but I don't remember what. Side effect of the pain killers I suppose.
"Dawnie?" A soft voice calls. "You sure about this?"
My eyes narrow at Xander, but I don't say anything. I know he's just worried about me. I also know there is nothing that Spike would do to every hurt me.
"Yeah, Xander. I am."
"Will's taking off this evening to find him. He's in San Diego according to one of Willy's contacts. Do you want her to tell him or..."
I lower my eyes instantly. He has a right to know what to expect I suppose. Probably wouldn't come back to this place without some explanation. I nod my head slowly. "Yeah, Xander," I replied softly, hearing my words crack with heavy emotion. Every 'homecoming' Spike's ever had has been painful. Why break tradition?
There's a soft knock on my flat's door, but I ignore it. Everyone in my circle knows 'bout my skin allergy. Probably some bloody solicitor or such nonsense wantin' to know if I've accepted the Savior yet. Bloody nonsense if you ask me. If there is a God, he's got a sick sense of humor. Settin' me up with a crazy, cheatin' bint then Harmony. As if I hadn't suffered enough Buffy came along and mucked m' life up more.
The knockin's more insistent now. Gettin' so a bloke can't get some sleep.
"Spike, are you in there?" I recognized that voice. Can't be her. Not bloody likely that they'd come after me after all these years. What? Slayer needs the evil undead for a little more horizontal tango. "Please, Spike, it's important."
Bloody well bet it is...to her. Poor plannin' on the Slayer's part doesn't constitute an emergency on mine. Tempted to yell that at the bint, but my brain chooses to simplify it. "Sod off," I yell in the general direction of the door, drawing the covers up 'round me more.
"I wouldn't have come if it wasn't important. You know that."
By this point, I know she won't give up. Probably out there with her arms crossed and that annoying 'resolve face' plastered. I left out a puff of exasperation as I get up out of bed and slip on the nearest pair of jeans. I unlock the door, careful to avoid the sunlight.
"What's with all the noise, Red?"
She tilts her head to the side and regards me. "Can I come in?" I feel my eyebrow raise. Since when did the Scoobies get manners?
"Suit yourself."
She slips past me and evaluates the room while I close the door. "Nice place. Bit spartan, but better than the crypt."
"Not in the mood to make nice, Red. I know you're here for somethin'. Spill it so I can get some more rest."
"It's kinda complicated, Spike, in an intense sorta way. You might wanna sit."
"Not complicated. The lot of you need something and my guess is that I'm that only one that can get my hands on it. Either that are you've got some evil thing you need help slaying. Right so far?"
Willow shook her head slowly. She had *that* expression on her face again- the one she had the night Giles had to tell Buffy that the only way to close the portal if that Glory bird opened it was to kill Dawn. I sighed and sank down onto the well-worn mattress of my bed. "What is it then."
"It's Dawnie..." she started, shifting uncomfortably in the chair across from me. I felt my chest tighten. She also had that look she wore after Tara died- defeated and broken. This was definitely not going to be happy news.
"Don't tell me some undead evil took the lil' bit out," I said, softly, hands fumbling with my lighter.
"No, Spike. No evil...well... not exactly."
"Wha's that suppose to mean, Red?"
The Wiccan was lookin' everywhere but at me. Not a good sign in my book.
"Dawnie's dying, Spike."
"What?" I said dumbly. All conscious thought leaving me. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion- the tears, the feel of the mattress dippin', Red's hand on my shoulder. "There's got to be some sort of mistake..."
"She's got cancer...at least that's what the doctors think that it is. It's spread to her lungs. Won't be much longer now."
I paused to take in what she had said. "What they think it is?" I repeated, turning towards her. "They aren't sure?"
"Xander and I think that it might have more to do with what she is...or was," she paused a beat and continued. "You remember how those scrolls you and Xander found at the Doctor's place said that The Key was created to allow Glory a means back into her dimension?"
I nodded my head, shifting in my seat. Even at the mention of that crazy god's name was enough to make me uncomfortable. The Scoobies pretty much avoided the topic all together.
"Well... you see, Glory was only given so many years before she, or rather the host body would die."
"And if the bint isn't around any more than The Key wouldn't be needed any more."
"It's the only explanation that I can come up with."
"So where do I fit in with all of this? You need my help to hunt someone down or find someone to do the spell for you... I know a few blokes. No where near as powerful as you, but they could probably work the magicks..."
A warm hand reached out and covered mine. Wasn't until then that I realized I was shaking.
"Spike," Red said softly. "Dawn doesn't have a lot of time left-- a week or more. She asked Xander and I to track you down so that she could say goodbye.
I moved without thinking, packing my belongings into the deSoto without a glace back at my flat. Willow was waiting in the passenger seat the whole time, staring out at the trees that lined the street. I could only imagine what she was thinking. She'd lost Tara and her parents the same year. All she had left was Buffy, Xander, and Dawn. Dawn would be gone in a matter of time. Buffy's expiration date was well past due, and Xander was married to Anya. Didn't leave her with much of a family.
I climbed in behind the wheel and sped off toward Sunnydale, speeding all the way. We travelled a good twenty minutes before either of us spoke.
"Is this where you've been hiding all these years?"
Her voice was soft, even, and non-accusin'. Just like Red. "Around. Travelled a lot."
"And you couldn't call?"
"Did. I called the bit once an' got an earful," I said, keepin' my eyes locked on the road ahead. I remembered that conversation clearly. "Spent the first ten minutes yellin' at me for tryin' what I did on Buffy and the next twenty or so tellin' me 'bout that wanker Warren."
I saw Red stiffen in the corner of my eye, but decided to continue. "Sorry to hear 'bout Pixie. Right sweet girl she was."
"Did she tell you all of it?" she asked, turnin' to look at me with those soulful eyes.
"You mean the bit 'bout you skinnin' the git alive and tryin' to end the world?" She nodded seriously. "Might have mentioned it." I paused, sensing her unease at the topic. "Can't say I wouldn' do the same if he'd done it to any of Scoobs....'cept maybe the whelp." That earned me a slight smile.
Red finally turned to look at me, tiltin' her head to the side just slightly. "What happened to you, Spike?"
I paused and looked at her. "Know how you feel 'bout killin' Warren?" She nodded. "'magine what it would feel like knowin' you kill hundreds of people."
"Never bothered you before."
"Never had a soul before."
Willow called late that afternoon while Spike was packing up his things to let me know that they were on their way. Knowing the way that he drove, they would probably pull up in a little over three hours...unless they hit LA rush hour. Ever since her call, I had grown more apprehensive. The gang had watched me as I got worse. They knew I could barely get out of bed for more than a handful of minutes without needing to lay or sit down and catch my breath, listening to my dying lungs wheeze for much needed air.
Sighing, I turned the TV off. Only soap operas, talk shows, and cartoons played at this hour. As I reached over to grab the old stack of Cosmos Anya had left me, I noticed the tattered sleeve of my night gown, and realized I must look like a mess.
My pride always did get the best of me. I threw back the covers and sat at the edge of the bed for a long minute, waiting for the dizziness to subside. I padded across the carpet at my usual snail's pace, and walked straight to the tub, sitting on the edge to draw the water and catch my breath again.
I was always naturally thin, but now I look like one of those starving kids on all those informercials. The latest round of chemo left me weak. The pills I had to take pretty much ate a hole in my stomach. Now, I get fed through an IV. I survive on the supplements that get pumped through my veins. I also get pain meds that way...they work sometimes I guess. Kind of funny if you think about it; I'm dying and my doctor is worried about me becoming a drug addict.
I slip into the tub and sigh with relief. The water feels good...not as good as the shower used to. Just another reminder of my illness; I'm too weak to stand long enough to bathe. Wonder how much longer I'll even be able to get out of bed.
My chest starts to feel tight and my throat constricts. I start coughing violently like I've taken to doing so much recently. I know, instinctively that I've been away from my oxygen tank for too long. I ease myself on the edge, listening to myself wheeze heavily this time. I close my eyes, concentrating on just breathing, but each one becomes more labored. I draw a towel around me willing myself to calm down.
"Dawnie?" Xander's voice calls from downstairs. Not as if I can exactly yell back. Not as if he doesn't know where I am. I hear his steps on approaching my room, as soft knock on the door.
"Dawnster? I brought you more books. An picked them so I can't say if they're safe." A beat later he knocked on the bathroom door. "Dawn?" His knock is justified. This wasn't the first time I had nearly passed out on the bathroom floor. The last time had landed me in the hospital in a hyperbaric chamber.
"Xan...," I managed to huff out. It's all he needs though. He's in the room, whisking me back into my mother's bed without a word. That fearful, angry expression on his face. He pauses to hand me my mask and turns the oxygen up a little more. I sigh with relief as the blackness is pushed back to the edges of my vision.
"We've discussed you being up and about without anyone here before Dawnie. Do it again and I'm afraid I'll have to chain you down."
"I'm sure Anya would let you borrow her set," I said, rolling my eyes at him. I pause a beat and then smile at him. "Thanks, Xander."
He nods. "Xan man to the rescue. Just don't make it a habit."
I get to the Slayer's house and I swear I can feel m'self shakin'. No doubt if I was a human my heart would be thumping a mile a minute in my chest. I know she's in there; can sense her and hear her heart beat. Can't hear the bit's thought. Might be too weak. Would suspect as much if what the ex-Wiccan was tellin' me is true.
I snuff out my fag with the tip of my boot and raise my hand to knock when the door opens.
"Spike," she says, relief floodin' into her eyes. I pause for a minute, not expecting what comes next. Hittin' me in the nose...stakin' me good and proper, such, but she just steps back to let me enter. It's then that I notice there is no barrier up. I slip past her into the foyer and nod to her then the git and demon girl.
"Dawnie's upstair's in Mom's old room," Buffy says softly. "She's been waiting for you all day."
I pause. No quips or blows are exchanged. No yelling. Just acceptance. I nod and turn to climb the stairs. My hand rests on the knob before I turn the door, preparing myself for what I would find on the other side, but nothing really could.
She was sittin' there in the soft glow of the lamp beside her, reading a worn tome I distinctly recognized as one of my own. Even when Dru was ill she'd never looked this frail...or that thin. She had tubes coming out of every direction. An IV, a heart monitor keepin' an irregular pattern, and, the most grievous of all was the lil' tubes comin' out from her nose like she couldn't breath fully on her own.
"Spike," she says, a warm smile brightening her face.
"Hey bit. Long time."
"Yeah," she says, motioning for me to come sit beside her. I do. First thing I notice is the dark circles under her eyes and the slightly glazed look from a mixture of too much pain and pain killers that are barely masking it.
Before the soul, I would have been upset to the point of gettin' angry at my inability to beat whatever was doing this to her to a bloody pulp. Then, I'd've spent the next few months drinkin' m'self into oblivion, thinkin' 'bout how it effect me and mine. Now, I'm fightin' back tears as I stroke her face.
"Oh, 'bit. Just isn't fair."
She shrugged. "Nothing in life's fair, Spike. I learned that a long time ago."
There's such wisdom there and age. Neither one of which should be there.
She starts talkin'...tellin' me all about her life the past ten years, an' I just sit an' listen. As the story went on, the light left her face. She stopped just short of when she really started to get sick, looked at me, and smiled.
"So...what have you been up to?"
I stayed up well past dawn speakin' to the bit. She finally fell asleep after Red came in to inject her medicine into the IV bag. I slipped out of the room and decided to face the others downstairs
He came back after sunset, and we started to talk again. Sometimes about movies, poetry, the 'novels' Anya would send over to read, sometimes the Scoobies. We were deep into one of the more heavy subjects-- his trip to Africa-- when one of my spells came on me. I turned up the oxygen and leaned forward, desperately trying to catch my breath.
Spike slipped behind me, rubbing my back, waiting for the spasms to stop.
"I can't do this anymore," I said softly, mouth and nose covered by the plastic mask. "It hurts too much."
"Yes, you can, Dawn, you're a strong girl. Just fight it." I nodded my head. "I thought Willow told you on the way here; I'm dying. There is no 'fighting it,' Spike."
His jaw clenched and he looked away from me into my reflection in the TV set. "I don't accept that." I caught his hand, causing his eyes to drop to mine. "I asked you here to say goodbye...and to ask you a favor...two actually."
"Anything, nibblet."
I shook my head. "You have the right to say no. I'll accept it. Just promise me that you'll think about it before you refuse?" He nodded and I plowed right ahead. "First, you have to promise me that you'll make sure that they cremate me. I don't want to be brought back when I go."
"Done," he said, voice thick with emotion.
I mentally steeled myself against the next part. He would be furious, and probably yell, but I had to ask. "Spike, do you remember how you promised to take care of me?"
"Yeah, bit. 'Til the end of the world," he said, squeezing my shoulder with the arm that still held me up.
"And you know that I'll love you no matter what you say. I mean you're still like a big brother to me."
He smiled and nodded, tears threatening to fall again. I sighed. I knew I should have just asked without all the fanfare. This had worked so much better when I was running through it in my mind.
"I wasn't lying when I said that I couldn't do this anymore, Spike. I'm in so sick I can barely make it to the bathroom on my own. I haven't been outside in almost a year. I can't have any friends over...even if I still had any friends because I have to worry about them getting me sick...I just can't live like this anymore."
His eyes looked at me with such sympathy then that I finally had the strength to ask. "Will you help me?" I said, intentionally vague, begging him silently with my eyes to understand my meaning.
I watched his face distort from sympathy to confusion to anger and then a mixture of all three. "Hell no, bit. I'm not gonna help you in your suicide mission. What if the Slayer and her lot find a cure?"
"There is no cure, Spike. And I think that it would be as much a relief to them as it would be for me."
"I can't help you," he said, closing his eyes, letting tears fall from his cheeks unchecked. I knew it was the soul and the human that kept him from doing it.
"Remember how you felt when you were in that chair...or when you first got the implant. You couldn't do anything for yourself. You were weak and vulnerable..."
"And wanted nothing more than to stake yourself..."
"Bloody nearly did. Red was the one that stopped me."
"And Will was the one that went and found you and brought you to me."
"I didn't sign on for this, pet."
"Did you talk to the others while I was asleep?"
He nodded.
"Then you probably noticed how tired they all are. How little they do other than take care of me. How worried their are about paying for the next month's worth of medical bills."
"You're more important that money, ducks."
"What they didn't say...what I know you picked up on is that it would be a relief to all of them. Sure they'll grieve, but they've been expecting this. I've said my goodbyes to them a thousand times over. I hurt all the time...I've ceased to be who I was. Please, Spike. You're the only one that will help me. You don't have to do anything other than bring my meds up here. I'll do the rest."
Her heart's pounding in her chest in an irregular rhythm. Red told me it's been like that since her heart gave out on her a few months ago during surgery. I listen to the ragged breath, and I swear I can almost smell the death that clings to her. There's such a look of resolve on her face, and I know that, if I don't help her, she'll do something drastic and stupid.
She reminds me of my brushes with a life like this, and I feel myself crush under the weight of the implications. Was it selfish of the lot of us to keep her around or was her askin' me to help her the truly selfish act?
The demon in me was screamin' out to drain her dry, and the soul in me was lamenting the fact that the youngest of all of us was dyin'. I promised to protect the bit...was I supposed to protect her from herself and the Scoobies too?
I leave her side and go to the dresser top that has all of her medicine. I fill needle with her pain medication and return to her side, she smiles and takes it from me, inserting the tip into the IV bag and pushing in the plunger. I resume my spot beside her, taking her hand in mine. I can tell that it's working through her system quickly as a far away look comes to her eyes.
"Thank you," she says softly, and then, "I love you, Spike."
"Love you too, Dawn."
She squeezed my hand one last time before she closed her eyes. Within seconds her hand's grip was released. Then she stopped breathing. Her heart stopped last.