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Kallysten
Disclaimer : Of course they belong to someone else, I just play with them sometimes.
Distribution : Sure, just tell me where. When the story is finished, I will
post it on my website at http://www.geocities.com/kallysten_fr/
Feedback : Anything but flames kallysten_fr@yahoo.com
Story notes : This is a sequel to my story His Childe. If you haven't read it,
I strongly suggest you stop right here and go read it first, some things in
here will make more sense if you do.
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The ride back to Sunnydale was uneventful. Buffy used the opportunity to talk with Steven, mostly about Dawn, but also about what he had done since he had last visited them. Spike, for the most part, was silent. Judging by the way he and Angel had behaved when they had left, Buffy suspected that something had happened while she was resting, but she hadn’t had the opportunity to ask him in private.
The highlight of the trip was Spike’s unique homecoming tradition. As usual, and to Buffy’s dismay, he made a point of running over Sunnydale’s welcome sign. She couldn’t understand why he purposefully hit that stupid sign every time they drove by it, yet protested loudly and profanely at the mere mention of letting Buffy drive his car.
They pulled into Revello Drive a little after 9:30. When they entered the house, they found Giles in the living room, his nose in a heavy leather-bound book, the coffee table buried under even more books, as well as a mound of loose papers covered with his tiny and precise handwriting.
He rose from the sofa as they entered, his expression showing both delight and worry as he hugged his Slayer. Spike got a handshake, Steven a questioning look. Buffy then realized that he had never met the boy, even though he had heard about him.
“Giles, this is Steven, Angel’s son. Steven, this is my Watcher, Rupert Giles.”
They exchanged a handshake and polite greetings, though Giles seemed suddenly lost in his thoughts, as if he had just had an idea.
Before anyone could say anything more, a joyous cry came from the stairs, followed by a beaming Dawn. Ignoring both her sister and Spike, she threw herself into Steven’s open arms and engaged him in a furious lip lock. Buffy rolled her eyes at the display, before beckoning Giles to follow her to the dining room, where they could talk without being overheard by the teenagers. The fewer people who knew about Faith’s real fate, she knew, the less chances for the Council to ever learn the truth. Not that she believed that Dawn or Steven would reveal the secret if they knew, she just preferred not to take chances. A new Slayer would soon be coming to Sunnydale, with a Watcher devoted to the Council’s cause, and slips of the tongue were always too quick to happen.
She was only half surprised, as she closed the door behind Giles, that Spike hadn’t followed them. He seemed to have made it his personal goal not to let the two teens have time by themselves. Sooner or later, he would need to realize that Dawn had grown up and wasn’t a little girl any more. She had tried to give him a few hints about it, but he could be very stubborn when he wanted.
“I got a call from Quentin Travers,” Giles said as soon as she had closed the door. “He informed me that Faith is dead and that they’re sending the new Slayer here.”
Buffy frowned a little as she and Giles sat down at the dining table.
“He didn’t waste any time, did he?” she grumbled. “I want you to know, Giles… she died, yes, but she’s not dead.”
She carefully observed her Watcher’s face as she talked, and soon was rewarded by understanding slowly lighting his features. He gave her a relieved smile.
“I’m happy to hear that, Buffy,” he said with a little sigh. “I must say I was worried when Travers said you and Spike had killed her.”
Buffy grimaced for a second. “It was just the only way to free her from the Council,” she explained.
Giles nodded as he reached briefly to touch her hand on the table.
“If she’s fine now, then forget about it. We have enough to worry about.”
Firmly pushing Faith out of her mind, Buffy focused on her now grim Watcher.
“One more apocalypse,” she sighed. “How bad is it?”
Even before Giles answered, Buffy knew the news were not good, for he had taken off his glasses and was cleaning them absently.
“I haven’t finished translating everything,” he said, a bit apologetic. “The Council had started, but there were some things they didn’t understand. Like some references to the Key, among other things.”
Buffy shut her eyes tightly, as if not seeing Giles would make his words less real. After a second, she shook her head and her gaze settled on him again.
“Dawn?” she asked quietly
He nodded. “As I said, I haven’t finished translating. I just discarded the interpretation the Council gave me, since it didn’t make much sense. Though I do agree with them on the need for the other Slayer to come here. From what I gather, we will need Dawn to close a portal…”
Unneeded breath caught in Buffy’s throat, and her eyes widened in horror.
“It’s not her blood again, is it?”
“I don’t honestly know, Buffy,” Giles said gently. “Give me a few days. And even if it is her blood, again, we’ll find another way.”
Feeling suddenly drained of all her energy, Buffy rested her head on the table. She had already given her life once to save her sister. She would again, if that was what was needed. Except that now, she didn’t really have a life, or even blood, to give.
* * * * *
Deciding that this particular kiss had lasted more than long enough, Spike cleared his throat loudly to remind the kids that they had an audience. An audience that was composed of only him, since Buffy and the Watcher had disappeared, but nonetheless an audience. Their lips separated at last, just as their hands found and clasped each other.
“Hi Spike,” Dawn said a bit breathlessly. “How was LA?”
“Just bloody fine,” the vampire grumbled, aware that she didn’t care in the least what he was saying. He didn’t like that look the two teenagers were exchanging. Not one bloody bit. Time to do something about it.
“You wanna come on patrol, kid?” he asked Steven.
The boy had never passed up an offer to go patrolling. But apparently there was a first for everything.
“Not tonight,” the boy replied, almost apologetically. “I haven’t seen Dawn in a while, and I have a lot to tell her.”
He flashed her a smile, which she returned instantly. Change of plans, then. No patrol.
“Fine. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
He made the statement sound like a warning, and indeed it was just that. A reminder that he wasn’t far, should they decide to do more than talk. The effects of the warning however were apparently limited, as the kids started walking up the staircase.
“Where are you going?” he asked sternly. “You’ll be just fine talking in the living room.”
Half way up the steps, they both turned to look at him at the foot of the staircase.
“We don’t need a babysitter,” Dawn said coldly.
“And you don’t need to be in a bedroom to talk,” Spike replied in the same tone.
A small grin played across the girl’s lips and she blushed slightly as she whispered:
“Who said we’re going to talk?”
Spike blinked several times, certain that he couldn’t have heard correctly. But then, Steven looked as baffled as he felt when Dawn declared, much louder:
“Giles has the guest bedroom. So Steven will sleep in my room.”
This time, there was no mistaking what she meant. Spike glared at her, at both of them, knowing all too well that his eyes must have been flashing gold.
“Like hell he will! The sofa will be just fine. Won’t it, kid?”
The hard look he gave Steven dared him to say otherwise. But before he could utter a word, Dawn had let go of his hand and taken a few steps down until she was standing right in front of Spike, hands on her hips, her face a mask of cold anger.
“We’re old enough to do whatever we want,” she hissed. “You have nothing to say about any of it.”
“You’re old enough not to get spanked for being stubborn, that’s about all. You’re just a kid and you’re gravely mista…”
“You’re the one who is mistaken if you think I’m a kid,” she interrupted. “Let me make this clear, Spike.” She poked him in the chest with one long, slender finger. “You’re not my father. You’re not my brother. This is not the nineteenth century and I am not an innocent girl to be protected until her wedding night. As much as I love you, it’s none of your business who I sleep with, or when.”
Stunned by her words, Spike didn’t even realize that she was gone, along with Steven, until the door of her room banged shut. Instinctively, he climbed a step and then stopped, frowning, and instead turned away. His feet led him to the back porch, and he was lighting a cigarette before he was even aware of having pulled his pack and lighter out. With a sigh, he sat down on the steps, his gaze unfocused as he dragged heavily on the fag.
He had thought of her as of a sister for so long, that it hurt to hear her reject him so. And yet, as much as he hated it, he could admit that she had seen right through his behavior. He wouldn’t have acted much differently if she had indeed been his sister, in his previous life. It would have been his duty to protect her. It had been his duty, though he had never been able to accomplish it. He had died before she even grew old enough to go to parties. How he would have liked to see her shy but beautiful smile attract gazes... She had probably inspired poems, hopefully better than those he had used to write. Though she wouldn’t have mocked even the worst poet of all …she was too kind for that. Every time Angelus had taken him to hunt among London’s blue blood, Spike had followed, throat tight, hoping with all his being that she wouldn’t be there. Thankfully, their paths had never crossed.
Dawn didn’t even look much like her. Except when she watched him with her pleading puppy eyes. That was what always got him. That was probably why he had been treating her like he had treated his sister. That and the fact that in return she had treated him like a brother. Until tonight.
He heard steps in the kitchen, and the door opened behind him. He didn’t need to turn to know it was the other teenager, the one he had been treating like the brother he had never had.
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