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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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Despite Buffy’s assurances, Dawn could tell that something was going on. The two cups of blood in a row the night before had been a hint – she had lived with two vampires for three years, she knew how often and how much they needed to feed. Buffy remaining in her room all day, with Spike bringing her food, was another clue. If she hadn’t known better, Dawn would have thought her sister was ill. But vampires couldn’t get ill, could they?
Steven had gone to the mansion to see his father, which had presented Dawn with a cruel dilemma. Go with him, and see the big poof, or stay home and be separated from her honey for a few hours. In the end, she had let him go alone. She figured he could use some one on one time with his father. And if she managed to corner Spike, she could have a little conversation with him. About Buffy’s health, and other things too.
After spending almost two weeks with Steven practically 24/7, it was a bit weird not to have him by her side for even a little while. They had been doing all sorts of things together, going to movies, to the beach, picnicking, just walking around together, as well as other activities Dawn couldn’t think of without heat rising in her cheeks. All of this, except for the last, they had done before, but always with a chaperone, and it was nice to be able to be alone with him at last. It gave them time to talk. And talked they had, a lot. About what they expected from each other. What they wanted from life. How they saw their future. Supposing, of course, that they would have a future. After living on the Hellmouth for a while, one learned to be careful about long-term projects.
The future post-apocalypse, as Dawn saw it, involved her going to college while continuing her not so long distance relationship with Steven. He needed to stay in LA, since he was an employee of Angels Investigations, and there wasn’t really any other job he had any qualifications for. Or that he wanted to do. That was one thing about him Dawn wasn’t sure whether she liked or disliked. Probably both. She was proud that he was fighting the good fight, of course, just like she was proud of Buffy. But she was more afraid for him than she had ever been for her sister. Buffy was the Slayer, and graced with super strength and super healing abilities. Steven wasn’t defenseless, far from it, but his wounds healed no faster than any human’s.
With Dawn in Sunnydale and Steven in LA, one of them would need to borrow a car every now and then so that they could see each other more often. Steven was supposedly going to start talking Angel into it, and Dawn would need to do the same thing with Spike. Not quite yet, though. Before she could do that, she had to smooth things over between them. And not just for the car.
Ever since he and Buffy had come back from LA with Steven, ever since that heated conversation in the staircase and the half-assed making up that had followed, he had been kind of cold to her, and to Steven too. Or rather, not cold. He couldn’t be cold when he wasn’t talking to them any more than absolutely necessary.
Sometime around 3 pm, she walked into the kitchen and found Spike there. He was cleaning mugs, Dawn having long ago made the point that, while she didn’t mind washing dishes, touching anything that had held blood would never be part of her chores.
“How is Buffy?” she asked as she sat on a stool behind him.
“Better. She just needed rest.”
So, something had indeed happened. If she was better now, it implied she hadn’t been so well before.
“What happened?”
The stiffening of Spike’s back let her guess his answer even before he spoke.
“Nothing of interest to you.”
“Is this my punishment?” she asked as he was silent again, still busy with his washing. “I ask you to give me space so you shut me out?”
He turned to her then, and he looked so tired that she wondered when he had last slept.
“Not everything is about you,” he said, mildly annoyed. “And you don’t need to know everything.”
He leaned back against the sink and crossed his arms. He wasn’t finished yet, Dawn was sure of it, and she waited for the rest. He watched her pensively for a short moment before finally saying:
“You didn’t ask for space. You threw me out of your life.”
“I did no such thing,” she protested, frowning.
“Not your brother, not your father,” he quoted to her, his voice bitter. “In other words, nothing.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said truthfully. “I’m sorry if that’s what it sounded like to you. But try to see things from my point of view. You’ve been on our backs for months! How would you have reacted to someone putting themselves between you and Buffy like that?”
As she took a deep breath and tried to calm herself, Dawn scolded herself mentally. She had wanted to make up with him, and here she was, speaking angrily again.
“It was different,” Spike replied matter of factly. “We were older than…”
“Oh, come on!” she interrupted him. “Maybe you were born more than a hundred years ago, but where Buffy is concerned you act like a teenager!”
“I bloody well do not!”
“Do too.”
“Do not.”
“Do too.”
Buffy’s laugh stopped their bickering. She walked into the kitchen, looking much better than the last time Dawn had seen her. She was wearing tight brown leather pants and a red shirt that suspiciously looked like one of Spike’s.
“What are you children arguing about?” she asked playfully.
“We are not arguing,” they replied at the same time, and Spike gave Dawn one of these half smiles she had missed so much the past few days.
Shaking her head and still chuckling, Buffy walked to Spike. He opened his arms to her and she slipped into his embrace, nuzzling his neck. Dawn suddenly wondered whether she and Steven looked so sickeningly sweet when they cuddled. Or maybe she found it sickening because he had been gone for four hours already. In any case, that proved her point about Spike acting like a teen, and put Buffy in the same age category. She didn’t expect that they would agree with her, however, so she kept the thought to herself, and instead said:
“I didn’t want to argue with you. I guess what I wanted to say is, I apologize for having been so harsh. I was annoyed by your behavior, more pissed off than annoyed actually, and I should have told you that instead of pushing you away. I really didn’t mean to hurt you, and I’m sorry I did. You’re not my brother or my father, but you’re the closest thing to them I have. As well as one of my best friends.”
The words had come out in a rush, and now Dawn was waiting for a reaction. Yet Spike remained impassive for a moment that seemed to last forever. With her cheek against his shoulder, Buffy was smiling slightly. She had questioned Dawn the day after her confrontation with Spike, and had given her the first clue that he had taken her words very much at heart. She poked Spike in the side, presumably signaling to him that it was time to meet Dawn halfway.
“Maybe I was a little overprotective,” Spike said at last. “Maybe I should have seen you’ve grown up.”
He gave her a tentative smile, and she understood it was his way to accept her apology as well as to offer his.
* * * * *
Willow and Tara’s plane had landed a little after 5 pm, and Dawn had been volunteered by Buffy to go pick them up in Spike’s car. Steven, of course, went along. Even before going to their apartment, Dawn drove the Witches to Revello, and Buffy welcomed them with hugs and a bright smile. They had been gone since the beginning of the summer, on a tour in the British islands. They had kept in contact through emails, but Buffy still wanted to hear everything about their trip. They complied eagerly, completing their story with pictures. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and before long Buffy was saying out loud that she wished she could have gone with them. The statement brought a frown to Spike’s face. He had been listening to the Witches, mostly quietly but with a few comments or questions every now and then. He didn’t say a word as he frowned, but Buffy understood the message very clearly. He had been asking her for months to go on a trip with him, anywhere she wanted, just a few days away from Sunnydale. But there was always something to stop her. Dawn, their work, slaying, school. What if they had accompanied Willow and Tara overseas? No call from the Council. No dealing with Faith. No Drusilla…
Spike hadn’t said a word about her since the previous night, and Buffy couldn’t help but wonder how he felt about having killed her. If he was hurting, he was hiding it very well. All he had done since he had staked her was take care of Buffy. Nothing else. He was hovering around her like a protective mother hen, making sure she fed, cleaning her wounds even though they just needed time to heal. He had even placed a band-aid on her neck, over Drusilla’s marks, something he had never done for his own marks. Buffy let him do as he pleased without complaining, a little amused by his fussing, but mostly comforted by it. He was taking such good care of her that the images Drusilla had placed in her mind were already fading away.
The afternoon passed quickly, friends and family enjoying each other without thinking of the future. All too soon, however, night came, and they all made their way to the Magic Box. It was time to talk apocalypse.
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