Fic: Action Figures and Fashion Dolls, Chapter 2
Okay, it's a little rough, but it's here! Finally this old story is moving again.
Title: Action Figures and Fashion Dolls
Author: thedeadlyhook
Rating: This chapter, PG-13. Probably NC-17 overall.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters not mine; no infringement intended, and no profit is being made here.
Summary: Fourth in a series of stories set post-BtVS/AtS. See the first chapter for the full backstory. Buffy/Spike.
Previous stories, in order:
Dirty Back Road
Does It Have to Mean Something?
The Center
(Also in my memories, here, here, and here.)
Chapter 1, here
__________
Chapter Two
Where are you going now my love?
Where will you be tomorrow?
Will you bring me happiness?
Will you bring me sorrow?
Oh, the questions of a thousand dreams
What you do and what you see
Lover can you talk to me?
-Crosby Stills Nash & Young, "Carry On"
"Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul."
-Oscar Wilde
__________
Unfortunately, 'whatever came next' turned out to be less dire than Buffy had expected.
Which... kinda sucked, actually, because she excelled at dire. That was what she was really good at: apocalypses, catacylsyms, and disasters. There was a certain reassuring familiarity to facing down a horrible looming doom.
She let out a put-upon sigh, and changed the TV channel.
Okay, she could admit it--she was bored.
It was after midnight, and Spike was out. Like he was every night now. Doing his covert secret-mission Champion thing. Which she wasn't allowed to come along for, because of something to do with image. Either his or hers, she wasn't so sure, but she suspected his.
Which was another thing she wasn't too crazy about.
When she'd offered to stay in London, offered to help him, to be his friend and companion and co-Champion and, for all intents and purposes, his girlfriend, she'd--
Oh god, here it comes again, that falling-off-a-cliff feeling, what am I doing here, what was I thinking, breathe, breathe, BREATHE
--not exactly pictured this.
She took another deep breath, gulping air, and changed the channel again.
__________
"Are you sure you're okay?" Buffy shifted the pay phone's receiver to her other ear. "You don't need me there?"
"I really don't." Dawn's voice was an extended sigh. "C'mon, Buffy, we already had this conversation."
"I know. I know. It's just..." Buffy adjusted her position. It was typical winter weather according to Spike; i.e., raining. A fine mist was seeping through the phone booth's doorseal and the translucent plastic walls were nearly opaque from the steam of her breath and scrawls of graffiti.
She'd looked in vain for one of those old-fashioned red booths, the cute wooden ones featured on all the postcards, for nearly an hour before settling.
"For the last time, I'm fine." There was a distant clattering sound over the line. Dawn was probably in the kitchen. Buffy had forgotten the time difference for the call, but Dawn had still been up. Knowing her, she might not've even eaten yet. Maybe she was even making dinner now. Something comforting and homey. "I've got three Italian Slayers on speed dial, and protection spells on the apartment. Stop worrying."
"I can't help it. It's a habit." And no way was this conversation already making her feel guilty. Seriously, Dawn, it only looks like abandonment. This is totally temporary, just until... well, I don't know when. She frowned, registering something Dawn had said."What protection spells?"
"The ones I learned from Willow, like, forever ago."
First I've heard of it. "You did them? And forever ago as in when, exactly?"
"That last year in Sunnydale." More clattering, then the sound of running water. "I think it helped her with her guilt issues or something. Like therapy. You seriously didn't know? I nearly blew up the living room, remember?"
Buffy hesitated. "Oh... yeah. There was, you know, a lot going on that year." Understatement, but then Dawn knew that. "What kind of spells did she teach you?"
"Nothing big. Just easy defensive-y stuff."
"Does any of it involve bloodletting, or the calling on of questionable gods?"
Dawn's eyeroll was nearly audible. "Right, sure. And then there's animal sacrifices. Oh, and I got an orgy scheduled for tomorrow, so thanks for reminding me. I gotta pick up some candles and finger food."
"Ha-ha. Very funny."
"So how's Spike?"
The question caught Buffy off guard. Mouth already open for another followup remark on the spell issue, she was forced to backtrack. Think. "Uh, he's, uh... fine. We're, uh--" Wait a minute... "Oh, no you don't! Missy, I invented that trick. You're stalling. What aren't you telling me about this spell thing?"
Dawn snorted. "Nothing. And you so didn't invent it."
"Well, I was using it on mom years before you did."
"That's not the same as inventing it."
"It is too. Either way, you got it from me."
"Big deal, I got everything from you," and Dawn actually sounded amused when she said this, which was more than enough to put Buffy's head in a tailspin. Mystic history-by-monks is something we joke about now?
Oh, wait. Damn, she did it again. "What we were talking about?" That was, after all, the trick--distraction by misdirection.
"My unsupervised spell-dabbling," Dawn offered helpfully. "You were about to tell me how not-thrilled you are."
"Well... yeah. For the record, I'm not. Thrilled."
"I sorta figured. Why?"
Buffy paused. It wasn't easy to explain. Especially since, strategically speaking, she had to agree that her little sister learning defensive magic was probably a good idea. Given that Buffy herself couldn't--like now, for example--always be there to protect her.
But...Willow.
She was uneasy about Dawn learning magic from Willow.
Because bad enough that Dawn had already followed in her sister's footsteps and dated a vampire, as mature role models go, Willow wasn't exactly a step up. But after preaching forgiveness for Willow's problems, what with the addiction thing, and the blacker than black magic, and the I-wanna-end-the-world grief rampage, which included a very credible threat to kill Dawn--she just couldn't take all that back now. Not without admitting that, yes, that was all just talk, and I really haven't trusted Willow completely since she resurrected me, okay? Saving the world, that's one thing. Tutoring my little sister? No way.
Not gonna happen.
"You blew up the living room," Buffy said instead.
"Oh, gimme some credit. That was a special case, and I got all the magic-is-dangerous warnings, so I'm always super careful. I just don't want you to have to worry about me. Okay?"
"Well, I worry."
"I know." Dawn paused. "Buffy? Don't you... want me to be okay here by myself?"
"Huh? I--of course I do."
There was a long pause, and then Dawn spoke again, with a new note of dread in her voice. "Something's wrong, isn't it?" she said. "You call me in the middle of the night, and you're talking like... like you want me to tell you to come home."
"What?" What? Flustered, Buffy hurried to find something to say. "No, it's--nothing's wrong, Dawn, everything's fine."
"He's evil again." Dawn's voice was flat. "And you can't come right out and say it because he's listening, isn't he. Don't say anything if I'm right."
Buffy was too shocked for a second to say anything anyway. "Uh--" she eventually managed to grunt.
"Do you want me to call Willow? Seriously. Because I will right now. I-I wasn't kidding that I only know the easy stuff--I can't do anything for you from here. Oh god. Did he hurt you? Are you okay?"
Buffy's mouth worked soundlessly for a second.
"Oh god oh god oh god, I knew this would--"
"Dawn!" The shout finally expladed out of her like a bursting bubble. The plastic walls of the phone booth actually rattled. "He's not--we're not--he hasn't hurt me. Okay? He's not evil. Why would you even think that?"
Oh, and then there was that teetering-on-the-edge-of-danger feeling again, coming on like a wave. An awful tsunami of warning.
Danger, it seemed to say. Disaster.
There was another long pause.
"For real?" Dawn's voice was little-girlish, tiny. "This isn't... like, code because he's right there with you. Is it?"
"He'd have heard you if it was. Vampires have great ears," Buffy said flatly, because by now she was just numb. It was sinking into what it really meant, what Dawn had said. "Why didn't you tell me that you still feel that way about him?"
"Because I--" A small sound, like a hiccup, or a sob. "I don't want to feel this way. I really want to be okay with you guys, I want to be happy for you, it's just..."
"Just what?" And yes, that sounded cold to her own ears, but she could do nothing about it.
"Just... you're not here. So I can't--"
"Well, maybe it's better that I'm not. At least this way you don't have to see us together."
"Buffy! God, can't you just get it through your head that this is hard?"
"Sure," Buffy said, and in her mind she was already slamming the phone into its cradle, already shoving open the plastic door and walking out into the rain. "It's hard. And I have NO idea how to deal with anything hard. Especially not all by myself."
Then she did exactly what she'd pictured and marched out into the London night.
__________
It took her two hours, of wandering in the rain through picturesque winding streets, before she finally calmed down.
Okay, so she'd never thought this would be easy. But at least she thought she'd be able to count on her sister.
Which, alright, now that she thought about it, was kind of stupid. After all, Dawn remembered--in memories that were made up, but same difference--the whole Angel debacle. And from her perspective, there probably wasn't all that much difference between Angel losing his soul and Spike trying to--
Okay, NOT going to go there, Buffy told herself firmly. Not.
And then, just because she wasn't lost in her thoughts for a minute, she realized that... she was the other kind of lost.
As in, no idea where she was. The dark neighborhood she was standing in was totally unfamiliar.
The rain beat down on her head.
Great.
Story of her life.
To Be Continued...
Title: Action Figures and Fashion Dolls
Author: thedeadlyhook
Rating: This chapter, PG-13. Probably NC-17 overall.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters not mine; no infringement intended, and no profit is being made here.
Summary: Fourth in a series of stories set post-BtVS/AtS. See the first chapter for the full backstory. Buffy/Spike.
Previous stories, in order:
Dirty Back Road
Does It Have to Mean Something?
The Center
(Also in my memories, here, here, and here.)
Chapter 1, here
__________
Chapter Two
Where are you going now my love?
Where will you be tomorrow?
Will you bring me happiness?
Will you bring me sorrow?
Oh, the questions of a thousand dreams
What you do and what you see
Lover can you talk to me?
-Crosby Stills Nash & Young, "Carry On"
"Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul."
-Oscar Wilde
__________
Unfortunately, 'whatever came next' turned out to be less dire than Buffy had expected.
Which... kinda sucked, actually, because she excelled at dire. That was what she was really good at: apocalypses, catacylsyms, and disasters. There was a certain reassuring familiarity to facing down a horrible looming doom.
She let out a put-upon sigh, and changed the TV channel.
Okay, she could admit it--she was bored.
It was after midnight, and Spike was out. Like he was every night now. Doing his covert secret-mission Champion thing. Which she wasn't allowed to come along for, because of something to do with image. Either his or hers, she wasn't so sure, but she suspected his.
Which was another thing she wasn't too crazy about.
When she'd offered to stay in London, offered to help him, to be his friend and companion and co-Champion and, for all intents and purposes, his girlfriend, she'd--
Oh god, here it comes again, that falling-off-a-cliff feeling, what am I doing here, what was I thinking, breathe, breathe, BREATHE
--not exactly pictured this.
She took another deep breath, gulping air, and changed the channel again.
__________
"Are you sure you're okay?" Buffy shifted the pay phone's receiver to her other ear. "You don't need me there?"
"I really don't." Dawn's voice was an extended sigh. "C'mon, Buffy, we already had this conversation."
"I know. I know. It's just..." Buffy adjusted her position. It was typical winter weather according to Spike; i.e., raining. A fine mist was seeping through the phone booth's doorseal and the translucent plastic walls were nearly opaque from the steam of her breath and scrawls of graffiti.
She'd looked in vain for one of those old-fashioned red booths, the cute wooden ones featured on all the postcards, for nearly an hour before settling.
"For the last time, I'm fine." There was a distant clattering sound over the line. Dawn was probably in the kitchen. Buffy had forgotten the time difference for the call, but Dawn had still been up. Knowing her, she might not've even eaten yet. Maybe she was even making dinner now. Something comforting and homey. "I've got three Italian Slayers on speed dial, and protection spells on the apartment. Stop worrying."
"I can't help it. It's a habit." And no way was this conversation already making her feel guilty. Seriously, Dawn, it only looks like abandonment. This is totally temporary, just until... well, I don't know when. She frowned, registering something Dawn had said."What protection spells?"
"The ones I learned from Willow, like, forever ago."
First I've heard of it. "You did them? And forever ago as in when, exactly?"
"That last year in Sunnydale." More clattering, then the sound of running water. "I think it helped her with her guilt issues or something. Like therapy. You seriously didn't know? I nearly blew up the living room, remember?"
Buffy hesitated. "Oh... yeah. There was, you know, a lot going on that year." Understatement, but then Dawn knew that. "What kind of spells did she teach you?"
"Nothing big. Just easy defensive-y stuff."
"Does any of it involve bloodletting, or the calling on of questionable gods?"
Dawn's eyeroll was nearly audible. "Right, sure. And then there's animal sacrifices. Oh, and I got an orgy scheduled for tomorrow, so thanks for reminding me. I gotta pick up some candles and finger food."
"Ha-ha. Very funny."
"So how's Spike?"
The question caught Buffy off guard. Mouth already open for another followup remark on the spell issue, she was forced to backtrack. Think. "Uh, he's, uh... fine. We're, uh--" Wait a minute... "Oh, no you don't! Missy, I invented that trick. You're stalling. What aren't you telling me about this spell thing?"
Dawn snorted. "Nothing. And you so didn't invent it."
"Well, I was using it on mom years before you did."
"That's not the same as inventing it."
"It is too. Either way, you got it from me."
"Big deal, I got everything from you," and Dawn actually sounded amused when she said this, which was more than enough to put Buffy's head in a tailspin. Mystic history-by-monks is something we joke about now?
Oh, wait. Damn, she did it again. "What we were talking about?" That was, after all, the trick--distraction by misdirection.
"My unsupervised spell-dabbling," Dawn offered helpfully. "You were about to tell me how not-thrilled you are."
"Well... yeah. For the record, I'm not. Thrilled."
"I sorta figured. Why?"
Buffy paused. It wasn't easy to explain. Especially since, strategically speaking, she had to agree that her little sister learning defensive magic was probably a good idea. Given that Buffy herself couldn't--like now, for example--always be there to protect her.
But...Willow.
She was uneasy about Dawn learning magic from Willow.
Because bad enough that Dawn had already followed in her sister's footsteps and dated a vampire, as mature role models go, Willow wasn't exactly a step up. But after preaching forgiveness for Willow's problems, what with the addiction thing, and the blacker than black magic, and the I-wanna-end-the-world grief rampage, which included a very credible threat to kill Dawn--she just couldn't take all that back now. Not without admitting that, yes, that was all just talk, and I really haven't trusted Willow completely since she resurrected me, okay? Saving the world, that's one thing. Tutoring my little sister? No way.
Not gonna happen.
"You blew up the living room," Buffy said instead.
"Oh, gimme some credit. That was a special case, and I got all the magic-is-dangerous warnings, so I'm always super careful. I just don't want you to have to worry about me. Okay?"
"Well, I worry."
"I know." Dawn paused. "Buffy? Don't you... want me to be okay here by myself?"
"Huh? I--of course I do."
There was a long pause, and then Dawn spoke again, with a new note of dread in her voice. "Something's wrong, isn't it?" she said. "You call me in the middle of the night, and you're talking like... like you want me to tell you to come home."
"What?" What? Flustered, Buffy hurried to find something to say. "No, it's--nothing's wrong, Dawn, everything's fine."
"He's evil again." Dawn's voice was flat. "And you can't come right out and say it because he's listening, isn't he. Don't say anything if I'm right."
Buffy was too shocked for a second to say anything anyway. "Uh--" she eventually managed to grunt.
"Do you want me to call Willow? Seriously. Because I will right now. I-I wasn't kidding that I only know the easy stuff--I can't do anything for you from here. Oh god. Did he hurt you? Are you okay?"
Buffy's mouth worked soundlessly for a second.
"Oh god oh god oh god, I knew this would--"
"Dawn!" The shout finally expladed out of her like a bursting bubble. The plastic walls of the phone booth actually rattled. "He's not--we're not--he hasn't hurt me. Okay? He's not evil. Why would you even think that?"
Oh, and then there was that teetering-on-the-edge-of-danger feeling again, coming on like a wave. An awful tsunami of warning.
Danger, it seemed to say. Disaster.
There was another long pause.
"For real?" Dawn's voice was little-girlish, tiny. "This isn't... like, code because he's right there with you. Is it?"
"He'd have heard you if it was. Vampires have great ears," Buffy said flatly, because by now she was just numb. It was sinking into what it really meant, what Dawn had said. "Why didn't you tell me that you still feel that way about him?"
"Because I--" A small sound, like a hiccup, or a sob. "I don't want to feel this way. I really want to be okay with you guys, I want to be happy for you, it's just..."
"Just what?" And yes, that sounded cold to her own ears, but she could do nothing about it.
"Just... you're not here. So I can't--"
"Well, maybe it's better that I'm not. At least this way you don't have to see us together."
"Buffy! God, can't you just get it through your head that this is hard?"
"Sure," Buffy said, and in her mind she was already slamming the phone into its cradle, already shoving open the plastic door and walking out into the rain. "It's hard. And I have NO idea how to deal with anything hard. Especially not all by myself."
Then she did exactly what she'd pictured and marched out into the London night.
__________
It took her two hours, of wandering in the rain through picturesque winding streets, before she finally calmed down.
Okay, so she'd never thought this would be easy. But at least she thought she'd be able to count on her sister.
Which, alright, now that she thought about it, was kind of stupid. After all, Dawn remembered--in memories that were made up, but same difference--the whole Angel debacle. And from her perspective, there probably wasn't all that much difference between Angel losing his soul and Spike trying to--
Okay, NOT going to go there, Buffy told herself firmly. Not.
And then, just because she wasn't lost in her thoughts for a minute, she realized that... she was the other kind of lost.
As in, no idea where she was. The dark neighborhood she was standing in was totally unfamiliar.
The rain beat down on her head.
Great.
Story of her life.
To Be Continued...