| No Glass Slipper by Demonica Mills |
| Chapter #10 - Chapter 10 |
| Chapter 10 Dawn I'm sitting in the house of Marilla-call me Rilla-and Patrick-call me Paddy-Katz. They seem like a nice couple although Rilla bristled slightly when she saw I had no clothes with me. "You have nothing to your name?" she asked. I give her the duh look. "Of course I do. I'll be home before dark so there was no reason to pack anything." She purses her lips together and sits down on the couch next to me. "Dawn, darling, you will be staying here tonight and possibly every night after until you are adopted, come of age, or go to live with your father. We must get you some clothes." I shake my head. "No, I'm going back to live with my sister." Rilla sighs loudly. "Dawn, darling, I understand that you love your sister, but she is not able to care for you the way you need or deserve to be cared for." "I was just fine. Yeah, things were tight, but we had each other and that's what matters," I say. Half of me wants to say things like 'my sister can protect me from charging Hell Gods, can you?' I don't though. "I know that it hurts, but we aren't going to forbid you from seeing your sister or your friends albeit supervised visits but better than not seeing them at all, right darling?" I hate it that she calls me darling. And supervised? Supervised visits with Buffy and my friends, is she nuts? "Now," she says. "Ground rules. Rule number one, we always eat dinner together and there will be no television. Rule number two, curfew is nine o'clock and that includes having people over. Rule number three, no one may come over without my express permission. Rule number four, you receive twenty dollars allowance a month. I understand you have a job, correct?" I nod. "Fabulous. I think having a job encourages the youth of today to be more responsible. You shall post your weekly work schedule on the fridge no later than the Thursday before. Paddy or I will, schedule permitting, drop you off and pick you up. In the event that we are unable to do so, you will call upon reaching your destination and, just so you know, we have caller ID. I always expect to see the number of the place you are currently attending. Rule number five, no drinking, no drugs, no smoking, and no sex." She slapped her hands on her knees. "I think that takes care of everything, don't you Dawn, darling? I'll arrange for your sister to drop your things off later." XXX Buffy I’m lying on the floor of an abandoned house, naked, with Spike and last night I was ready to let him kill me. He didn’t…kill me that is, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. The average Slayer lives for under a year…The average Slayer is dead by sixteen. I used to think that the worst thing about the whole Slayer package was being forced to live with an impending death sentence hanging over your head. I know different now. The worst thing about being a Slayer is being alive. The death gets to you…I remember Spike telling me that once. I understand that now. Every night the fate of the world rests on my shoulders. Mine and no one else. It’s crushing, like you’re slowly sinking into quick sand and the more you struggle to stay alive, the faster you sink, and I have struggled for so long. I’m tired. Slowly I slid out from Spike’s grip and begin looking for my clothes. I think we’ve brought new meaning to the term bringing down the house. “Hey,” Spike says softly. “Whaddya doing?” “I’m looking for my clothes.” “Think I like you better without them,” he says, standing up and walking toward me. “So beautiful you are.” He’s running a hand through my hair. “I love everything about you. Your smell.” He buries his face in my neck. “Your taste.” His tongue is trailing across my collarbone and I moan lowly. “Your moans.” His mouth finds mine and I give in to him. I am a Slayer longing for death and kissing a vampire who won’t kill me. How ironic is that? The thing about it is that when Spike touches me, everything else disappears. All the worry, the stress, the pain, the loneliness-all of it melts away and there is nothing except the sensations that he creates. It’s almost addicting. I can almost believe that he really loves me. He’s a vampire though-a soulless vampire…I believe that he thinks that he loves me, but can you love with no soul, no beating heart? If love is really in the blood, as Spike believes, then how does a vampire who lives off of other people’s blood love? “Spike,” I whisper, my eyes closing as his mouth nibbles on my neck. “Wot? “Take me home…I-I want to go home…Please.” He pauses and looks at me and I can see the confusion in his eyes. “Don’t,” I say. “Don’t look at me like that.” “Like what, luv?” “Like…like I’ve just yanked the rug out from under you…I just…I want to go home, please. You…You can come too, if you want.” It makes no difference to me if he with me or not, but…he helps me forget things, at least for a little while and that’s…nice. “Sure, luv,” he says. “I’ll take you home.” XXX Spike There’s something wrong with her. She’s lost her fight. Every Slayer has a death wish and my Slayer just found hers. ‘M not gonna let her do it though. Even if I have to follow her on every patrol, I will not let her die. We make it back to the house and I follow her through the living room, up the stairs, and into her room. I notice that the door to Joyce’s room is shut. Buffy pays me no mind as she sheds her clothes and throws on a t-shirt before climbing into bed. I hesitate for a moment, wondering what I’m to do, before I climb into the bed behind her. She lets me wrap my arms around her. “Blinds,” she whispers. I lift my head a moment and start to tell her that it’s daylight outside and if the blinds had been open, I’d have been dust already, but I can’t bring my self to by snarky when she cared enough to think about it. “They’re closed,” I reply. “Spike,” she says quietly. “Why didn’t you kill me?” “Don’t want you dead yet…Don’t want you dead ever.” “I don’t want to be a vampire.” I pause. I hadn’t thought about that. I wonder what Buffy would be like as a vampire. Would she be evil incarnate? Would she keep her Slayer side and be condemned to an eternity of internal fighting between the Slayer and the demon? Would she keep her soul? I’m not so stupid as to believe that no Slayer has ever been turned, met a vamp or two that even claimed the title, but…in all my Slayer studies, ‘ve never found proof or a name. It’s almost like the Council eradicated the information of any Slayer ever turned. Nice of them, huh? Name of any Slayer should be glorified and remembered, ‘pparently the Council doesn’t agree on that matter in the case of the turned ones. Bloody bastards. “Spike?” I realize that I’ve never answered her. “Don’t want you to be a vampire either. Just want you to be you. Want you to be happy though.” Buffy eyes close slowly. “Don’t know if that’s possible anymore.” “Will you let me help? Help you to be happy again?” If I had a heart it would be pounding. She turns over and looks at me. “I think…I think I’m beyond help for that but…you could help me forget the pain…if you wanted.” I close my eyes. I am the Big Bad, I will not cry. I lean forward and kiss her. If this is what she needs from me, then I’ll give it to her. I’ll give it all to her. |