(no subject)
Title: Sunrise, Sunset
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Claim: William the Bloody (or Spike's Humanity, in my opinion)
Prompt: Fixed
Word count: 2,027
Rating: G
Summary: Dawn and Spike manage to fix their dwindling friendship
Author's Notes: Set in mid-season seven
**********************************
Spike had been asleep. Key word: “had.” Maybe it was vampiric instinct…maybe it was a learned method of survival when living in a house full of young girls…but the slightest change in his immediate surroundings was more than enough to wake him these days. He lay with his eyes closed a moment more, trying to put his finger on just what it had been that had snapped him into alertness.
The top stair creaked and he knew what it must have been. The door to the basement had open and shut. The only one who seemed keen on visiting him these days was Buffy, but he knew for a fact that she was out training with the girls all day today and, what with the shiny ball of death hanging in the sky, he had opted to get some well earned rest. That left only a few people in the house, which was a small miracle these days. Xander…Willow… He breathed deep…and Dawn. He could smell her faintly if he tried.
“Whatever it is, Lil’ Bit, you might as well come say it,” he rasped sleepily. He took a moment to analyze his situation and thanked whatever god had taken pity on him that he had fallen into bed completely clothed. He normally locked the door at the top of the stairs, but locks didn’t seem to be as reliable as they once were nowadays. He’d had just about enough curious, giggling faces staring down at him, but there was sod all he could do about it for the time being.
The stairs answered with several slow, plodding thumps as Dawn descended. Spike chuckled softly to himself. That girl couldn’t weigh more than ten ounces soaking wet, but she managed to give the impression that a three hundred pound elephant was coming down to greet him. He’d seen Buffy do the same sulky walk and he’d marveled then, too.
“Mornin’ Nibblet,” Spike said gruffly as Dawn clomped down the last few stairs. He pushed himself up into a semi sitting position and eyed her with interest. She stared at the floor with such intensity he wouldn’t have been surprised if it had melted under the pressure. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, just a hint of wariness betraying his jovial, though groggy manner. He hadn’t really spoke to Dawn, alone, in a very long time, something he’d been chiding himself for ever since…well since he’d stopped screaming his lungs out really, but more than that. When he’d made his decision to leave, to go get his soul, the only person he’d been at all tempted to tell was her. He knew the others wouldn’t take it at all amiss if he simply disappeared, but Dawn…he’d taken care of her when Buffy was gone, stayed around for that purpose and little else. He had liked the kid, understood her, felt for her. But now…he hardly knew what to say to the young woman in front of him.
“I overheard Buffy talking…” she said, her voice sounding much stronger than her body language suggested it should. “So, your chip’s out huh?” she asked, her eyes and voice rising, almost hopeful but not quite.
Now it was Spike’s turn to drop his gaze to the floor. He coughed and murmured incoherently for a moment before admitting quietly, “Yeah. Big Sis thought it was best.”
“She was right.”
It wasn’t a large movement, but the jerk of his head as he tore his gaze from the floor to meet this little girl’s…no this woman’s eyes seemed to take all the energy Spike had at his disposal.
Dawn took a few steps towards his cot, her hands twisting nervously. “I used to have this daydream, when kids were mean to me at school, you know? That one day the chip would…stop working or something and then you’d go and…well I don’t really know what. But it was nice for awhile, thinking I had this big bad guard dog on a leash. Stupid, I know…” she trailed off with a tiny embarrassed laugh.
“Not stupid, Pet. Not ev’ry gir’ on the block has their own pet demon, yeah?”
“But you’re not…and that’s the point.” She sat down beside him quite suddenly, making the cot shake, and Spike sat up a little straighter.
“When you left…”
Did her eyes seem bright? Spike wasn’t sure. He also wasn’t quite sure he had the stamina to deal with a crying female at the moment. But, as there was one sitting in the space he would have gladly been sleeping in, he didn’t have much choice. Besides…he’d never been able to turn his back on Dawn…even when he hated every last member of the damn little Scooby gang, he’d always had a soft spot for the kid.
“I thought you were never coming back,” she finished quietly. “And I was glad.”
That caught his attention. “Glad I could make your day,” he responded moodily before she could go on. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly why that comment had stung, but it had. Soul or no soul, he was still a demon, and he hated himself for a solid minute for letting himself ride on the approval of a sixteen year old.
“I thought, now things will get back to normal and Buffy will…she’ll be
around more.”
“Dawn…” he interrupted. “You don’ have ta do this.” He was feeling distinctly uncomfortable.
“No, I don’t,” she responded. “But I’m going to. Deal with it.” In that moment, she sounded so very much like her sister it was hard for Spike not to laugh.
“Summers women…can’t let a bloke alone, can ya?” he chuckled.
“Nope,” she said succinctly. “I just…you know…wanted you to know. I was wrong. It was horrible with you gone. You were like…my only friend for awhile and, I missed that. And then you came back, and you were all crazy and Buffy was all weird about it…”
“All weird about it?” he said, pointedly dismissing any thoughts of his temporary insanity. “Wha’s that mean?”
“Well, when we found out you were back…just about everyone…me included…wouldn’t have been all that upset if she’d…well…staked you on the spot. You did…some pretty bad things.”
If Spike’s blood flowed, it would have rushed to his cheeks in a most unmanly fashion. Bad things…that didn’t even begin to describe what he’d done to Buffy…to Dawn…to every last one of them. His head dropped and he became very interested in his bed sheet.
“Then we found out about your soul… Xander said it didn’t matter.”
“He would,” Spike muttered before he could stop himself, but Dawn either didn’t hear or ignored him.
“But Buffy…she locked herself up in her room for hours. I tried to talk to her but she wouldn’t come out. I could hear her…dialing her phone over and over again, but she never called anyone. I think she was trying to call Angel.”
That sent a barb into his chest that he hadn’t been at all prepared for. As always, when Angel’s name came into his thoughts, his first reaction was completely unjustified anger.
“She called him?” he exploded, sounding much more like a jealous child than he wanted to think about. “I was screamin’ my bloody brains out in a basement, and she called that…that…” for the first time in his whole unlife, Spike couldn’t think of a word vile enough to describe Angel at that particular moment.
Dawn hastened to pacify him. Her hands fluttered ineffectually a few inches from him, as though she wasn’t sure whether to touch him or not. He didn’t blame her. He felt like hitting…not that he would hit her, but still…
“No…no she didn’t call him! She never dialed the whole thing. She just got like six numbers in or something and then hung up. And then, when she came out, she looked madder than…than when I wore her favorite sweater and dripped mustard all over it. She told us all that if anyone went down to see you until she’d sorted things out, we’d have her to answer. And she said it in her scary Slayer voice…you know the one? Where her eyes get all big and her mouth barely moves?”
Spike was still fuming. He took several unneeded breathes, exhaling each with an angry huff as he groped for every curse word he’d ever used and saved them up to scream at some point when there wasn’t a teenager sitting next to him.
“Just…bloody…typical…” he ground out, his hands flexing involuntarily, looking for violence to do.
“Spike?” Dawn probed, sounding…not exactly happy…more hopeful? “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the old you,” she said with a little snicker. “Right now…you look just like that time when the five Groshan demons were starting fights in Willy’s.” She laughed loudly this time, and Spike tried to focus on what she was saying. Groshan demons….
Now he remembered! It was about a month after Buffy had died. He’d been mostly suicidal most of that time, though unwilling to just walk into the sun like he wanted to every time it rose. He kept telling himself he had to stay. He had to look after Dawn. If he’d done that, things would be different, and he wasn’t going to let Buffy down again. Not now. But that hadn’t stopped him from picking a fight with every bad ass demon that might potentially end him that came along. He couldn’t count the nights he come back to the Summers house, beaten to a pulp, trailing useless limbs. Dawn had patched him up more than once and never said a word. They’d kept each other alive that summer, he knew that now. If it hadn’t been for her, he would have lain in the park and waited for the day. And if it hadn’t been for him…the poor kid probably would have lost it completely.
Those five demons…they’d come closer to killing him than any of the others had. He’d already been rip roaring drunk when they’d come in and started busting up the place. He’d taken them all on at once, and it had not ended well. Two of them had died, but the other three seemed to take it rather personally, Spike thought. The fight had only ended when a few of the less…malevolent patrons of the bar had dragged Spike away. He couldn’t remember who had dumped him at the house, but someone had. Someone had known that he would at least be taken care of there.
But he’d wanted to go back. The only thing that had stopped him was a small fifteen year old girl sitting on his chest in the living room. And he’d been too tired and drunk to move her.
“It’s nice to have you back,” Dawn said as the stormy gaze died from his features. Spike looked up at her.
“Been through a lot, ‘aven’t we, Nibblet?”
“Nope,” she said, her smile growing. “You have, and I’ve had to clean up after it.” She laughed out loud at the smirk he shot her.
“S’pose you’re righ’” he said, an air of mischief to his voice. “Bad ass vampire like m’self…’ave to get into a tussle or two now and again, righ’?”
“Just don’t come into my window anymore,” Dawn said with an exaggerated grunt of disgust. “Vamp and Demon blood all over my quilts…getting all mixey…not something I want to relive. Ever. Go bleed on your own stuff.”
“Will do, Pet,” he said with a smile that he actually meant.
“Well…” she said quietly after a moment, “…I should probably be getting
back upstairs. I’m supposed to be research girl today.”
“Sun gets low enough, maybe I’ll join yeh,” Spike said nonchalantly. “Not to research, but…”
“To mooch some food and mock me while I work?”
“It’s a date, Luv,” he smirked again.
As Dawn ascended the stairs, Spike noted that her steps were much lighter than they had been. He smiled to himself, a wide smile that he never wore when anyone else was around, except maybe Buffy…once or twice. Sod it all…he really had missed that kid.
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Claim: William the Bloody (or Spike's Humanity, in my opinion)
Prompt: Fixed
Word count: 2,027
Rating: G
Summary: Dawn and Spike manage to fix their dwindling friendship
Author's Notes: Set in mid-season seven
**********************************
Spike had been asleep. Key word: “had.” Maybe it was vampiric instinct…maybe it was a learned method of survival when living in a house full of young girls…but the slightest change in his immediate surroundings was more than enough to wake him these days. He lay with his eyes closed a moment more, trying to put his finger on just what it had been that had snapped him into alertness.
The top stair creaked and he knew what it must have been. The door to the basement had open and shut. The only one who seemed keen on visiting him these days was Buffy, but he knew for a fact that she was out training with the girls all day today and, what with the shiny ball of death hanging in the sky, he had opted to get some well earned rest. That left only a few people in the house, which was a small miracle these days. Xander…Willow… He breathed deep…and Dawn. He could smell her faintly if he tried.
“Whatever it is, Lil’ Bit, you might as well come say it,” he rasped sleepily. He took a moment to analyze his situation and thanked whatever god had taken pity on him that he had fallen into bed completely clothed. He normally locked the door at the top of the stairs, but locks didn’t seem to be as reliable as they once were nowadays. He’d had just about enough curious, giggling faces staring down at him, but there was sod all he could do about it for the time being.
The stairs answered with several slow, plodding thumps as Dawn descended. Spike chuckled softly to himself. That girl couldn’t weigh more than ten ounces soaking wet, but she managed to give the impression that a three hundred pound elephant was coming down to greet him. He’d seen Buffy do the same sulky walk and he’d marveled then, too.
“Mornin’ Nibblet,” Spike said gruffly as Dawn clomped down the last few stairs. He pushed himself up into a semi sitting position and eyed her with interest. She stared at the floor with such intensity he wouldn’t have been surprised if it had melted under the pressure. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, just a hint of wariness betraying his jovial, though groggy manner. He hadn’t really spoke to Dawn, alone, in a very long time, something he’d been chiding himself for ever since…well since he’d stopped screaming his lungs out really, but more than that. When he’d made his decision to leave, to go get his soul, the only person he’d been at all tempted to tell was her. He knew the others wouldn’t take it at all amiss if he simply disappeared, but Dawn…he’d taken care of her when Buffy was gone, stayed around for that purpose and little else. He had liked the kid, understood her, felt for her. But now…he hardly knew what to say to the young woman in front of him.
“I overheard Buffy talking…” she said, her voice sounding much stronger than her body language suggested it should. “So, your chip’s out huh?” she asked, her eyes and voice rising, almost hopeful but not quite.
Now it was Spike’s turn to drop his gaze to the floor. He coughed and murmured incoherently for a moment before admitting quietly, “Yeah. Big Sis thought it was best.”
“She was right.”
It wasn’t a large movement, but the jerk of his head as he tore his gaze from the floor to meet this little girl’s…no this woman’s eyes seemed to take all the energy Spike had at his disposal.
Dawn took a few steps towards his cot, her hands twisting nervously. “I used to have this daydream, when kids were mean to me at school, you know? That one day the chip would…stop working or something and then you’d go and…well I don’t really know what. But it was nice for awhile, thinking I had this big bad guard dog on a leash. Stupid, I know…” she trailed off with a tiny embarrassed laugh.
“Not stupid, Pet. Not ev’ry gir’ on the block has their own pet demon, yeah?”
“But you’re not…and that’s the point.” She sat down beside him quite suddenly, making the cot shake, and Spike sat up a little straighter.
“When you left…”
Did her eyes seem bright? Spike wasn’t sure. He also wasn’t quite sure he had the stamina to deal with a crying female at the moment. But, as there was one sitting in the space he would have gladly been sleeping in, he didn’t have much choice. Besides…he’d never been able to turn his back on Dawn…even when he hated every last member of the damn little Scooby gang, he’d always had a soft spot for the kid.
“I thought you were never coming back,” she finished quietly. “And I was glad.”
That caught his attention. “Glad I could make your day,” he responded moodily before she could go on. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly why that comment had stung, but it had. Soul or no soul, he was still a demon, and he hated himself for a solid minute for letting himself ride on the approval of a sixteen year old.
“I thought, now things will get back to normal and Buffy will…she’ll be
around more.”
“Dawn…” he interrupted. “You don’ have ta do this.” He was feeling distinctly uncomfortable.
“No, I don’t,” she responded. “But I’m going to. Deal with it.” In that moment, she sounded so very much like her sister it was hard for Spike not to laugh.
“Summers women…can’t let a bloke alone, can ya?” he chuckled.
“Nope,” she said succinctly. “I just…you know…wanted you to know. I was wrong. It was horrible with you gone. You were like…my only friend for awhile and, I missed that. And then you came back, and you were all crazy and Buffy was all weird about it…”
“All weird about it?” he said, pointedly dismissing any thoughts of his temporary insanity. “Wha’s that mean?”
“Well, when we found out you were back…just about everyone…me included…wouldn’t have been all that upset if she’d…well…staked you on the spot. You did…some pretty bad things.”
If Spike’s blood flowed, it would have rushed to his cheeks in a most unmanly fashion. Bad things…that didn’t even begin to describe what he’d done to Buffy…to Dawn…to every last one of them. His head dropped and he became very interested in his bed sheet.
“Then we found out about your soul… Xander said it didn’t matter.”
“He would,” Spike muttered before he could stop himself, but Dawn either didn’t hear or ignored him.
“But Buffy…she locked herself up in her room for hours. I tried to talk to her but she wouldn’t come out. I could hear her…dialing her phone over and over again, but she never called anyone. I think she was trying to call Angel.”
That sent a barb into his chest that he hadn’t been at all prepared for. As always, when Angel’s name came into his thoughts, his first reaction was completely unjustified anger.
“She called him?” he exploded, sounding much more like a jealous child than he wanted to think about. “I was screamin’ my bloody brains out in a basement, and she called that…that…” for the first time in his whole unlife, Spike couldn’t think of a word vile enough to describe Angel at that particular moment.
Dawn hastened to pacify him. Her hands fluttered ineffectually a few inches from him, as though she wasn’t sure whether to touch him or not. He didn’t blame her. He felt like hitting…not that he would hit her, but still…
“No…no she didn’t call him! She never dialed the whole thing. She just got like six numbers in or something and then hung up. And then, when she came out, she looked madder than…than when I wore her favorite sweater and dripped mustard all over it. She told us all that if anyone went down to see you until she’d sorted things out, we’d have her to answer. And she said it in her scary Slayer voice…you know the one? Where her eyes get all big and her mouth barely moves?”
Spike was still fuming. He took several unneeded breathes, exhaling each with an angry huff as he groped for every curse word he’d ever used and saved them up to scream at some point when there wasn’t a teenager sitting next to him.
“Just…bloody…typical…” he ground out, his hands flexing involuntarily, looking for violence to do.
“Spike?” Dawn probed, sounding…not exactly happy…more hopeful? “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the old you,” she said with a little snicker. “Right now…you look just like that time when the five Groshan demons were starting fights in Willy’s.” She laughed loudly this time, and Spike tried to focus on what she was saying. Groshan demons….
Now he remembered! It was about a month after Buffy had died. He’d been mostly suicidal most of that time, though unwilling to just walk into the sun like he wanted to every time it rose. He kept telling himself he had to stay. He had to look after Dawn. If he’d done that, things would be different, and he wasn’t going to let Buffy down again. Not now. But that hadn’t stopped him from picking a fight with every bad ass demon that might potentially end him that came along. He couldn’t count the nights he come back to the Summers house, beaten to a pulp, trailing useless limbs. Dawn had patched him up more than once and never said a word. They’d kept each other alive that summer, he knew that now. If it hadn’t been for her, he would have lain in the park and waited for the day. And if it hadn’t been for him…the poor kid probably would have lost it completely.
Those five demons…they’d come closer to killing him than any of the others had. He’d already been rip roaring drunk when they’d come in and started busting up the place. He’d taken them all on at once, and it had not ended well. Two of them had died, but the other three seemed to take it rather personally, Spike thought. The fight had only ended when a few of the less…malevolent patrons of the bar had dragged Spike away. He couldn’t remember who had dumped him at the house, but someone had. Someone had known that he would at least be taken care of there.
But he’d wanted to go back. The only thing that had stopped him was a small fifteen year old girl sitting on his chest in the living room. And he’d been too tired and drunk to move her.
“It’s nice to have you back,” Dawn said as the stormy gaze died from his features. Spike looked up at her.
“Been through a lot, ‘aven’t we, Nibblet?”
“Nope,” she said, her smile growing. “You have, and I’ve had to clean up after it.” She laughed out loud at the smirk he shot her.
“S’pose you’re righ’” he said, an air of mischief to his voice. “Bad ass vampire like m’self…’ave to get into a tussle or two now and again, righ’?”
“Just don’t come into my window anymore,” Dawn said with an exaggerated grunt of disgust. “Vamp and Demon blood all over my quilts…getting all mixey…not something I want to relive. Ever. Go bleed on your own stuff.”
“Will do, Pet,” he said with a smile that he actually meant.
“Well…” she said quietly after a moment, “…I should probably be getting
back upstairs. I’m supposed to be research girl today.”
“Sun gets low enough, maybe I’ll join yeh,” Spike said nonchalantly. “Not to research, but…”
“To mooch some food and mock me while I work?”
“It’s a date, Luv,” he smirked again.
As Dawn ascended the stairs, Spike noted that her steps were much lighter than they had been. He smiled to himself, a wide smile that he never wore when anyone else was around, except maybe Buffy…once or twice. Sod it all…he really had missed that kid.