Tell Me Again

By Annaluna

One

London, Summer 2009

He stood in the doorway to the chapel and held his un-needed breath. Per her request, there were daisies everywhere. To remind her of New York, she'd written. He walked slowly up the short aisle to the open coffin. He wasn't even sure why they'd bothered with the chairs. It wasn't like anyone was coming. Nobody was left who remembered, not even Willow. As he neared, her body slowly came into view, lying peacefully on a bed of pink satin and he felt the need to sit down. That's why they'd bothered. So he could approach step by step, with something to lean on the way there. He sat for a moment, but he could no longer see her so he stood. It wasn't fair for him to shy away from this. He'd promised her. A few agonizing steps later, he was there.

He gripped the hard wood of the casket, his fingers digging into the satin lining and peered down at her. Words failed him. He released the breath he'd been keeping with a sob that echoed in the small space. With a shaking hand, he gently stroked the brown hair that fell just to her shoulder. A tear fell on her face, and he wiped it away. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. As he stood, he felt the other vampire's presence in the room. He turned to see Angel, who watched from the doorway. Willow and Buffy hovered behind the elder vampire. Their eyes were filled with concern for him, but no compassion for the friend and sister they'd lost. He couldn't bear to look at them, so he turned to Angel. The brooding grief in his sire's eyes was a small measure of comfort to Spike. Angel had lost something, too, with her death. Though not as much.

"You did all you could, Spike."

"But it wasn't enough, was it mate?"

London, Two Months Earlier

It was raining the afternoon Spike showed up on Willow's doorstep. It took her a moment for his identity to register under the curly locks of no longer peroxided hair and upturned coat collar. She recognized the slightly desperate look in his eyes, however, and hastily invited him inside.

"Bloody London with its sodding rain," he cursed softly as he shook the rain from his beaten black duster. Willow waited patiently he collected himself, not bothering to point out that the perpetually overcast sky allowed him to travel freely although it was only two in the afternoon.

It was hard for him to see any of the young woman he had last seen five years ago in Willow. Her hair was longer, streaked with mystical white, and pulled back into a long thick braid. The freckles had slowly faded with age, and she carried herself with a confidence he had never seen from her. Shoving his regret at being gone so long aside, he looked past her and around the entrance hall. She was clearly doing well for herself. He let loose a slow appreciative whistle as a well-dressed servant helped him out of his coat.

"Nice place you've got here, Red. Bit roomy for just a witch and a girl, though."

"This building was originally a hotel, Spike. I live here, and we've kept a few rooms for visiting mystics and the like, but it's a research facility now."

"And you're the queen bee, eh? Bet you saved the honeymoon suite for yourself."

"Being the head of Mystical Investigations for the Watcher's Council does have some perks." The corner of her mouth twisted up in a smirk. Enough of the past shone through it that he relaxed a bit.

"Missed that smile, pet," he said affectionately.

"That's not all you've missed." The redhead's voice filled with sadness and pain. Another peek into the past, but one that Spike would have preferred to skip.

"Which room is hers?"

"We should talk first, Spike. Would you like something to drink? There's some blood in the fridge." Spike raised an eyebrow.

"Since when does the Council stock vamp juice?"

She shrugged. "Angel stops by when he can. I like to make him feel welcome. The Council still makes him nervous."

"Married to a slayer and he still doesn't fit in." Angel's discomfort continued to be a source of mirth for Spike. She scowled a little at him, but he flashed her a friendly smile to let her know there was no lingering animosity between him and the senior vampire. "C'mon Will. Can't the chat wait until after I've seen her?"

"She won't see you, Spike."

"She said that?" His confidence faltered when she shook her head. It was such a tired, defeated gesture. Willow, he could see, was already starting to give up.

"Well, we didn't tell her you were coming or anything, but she won't see anyone any more."

"You just tell her I'm here. She'll see me." Willow placed a soothing hand on his arm, but it only confused him. She was acting strangely, even for someone he hadn't talked to in five years.

"How much did Angel tell you about Dawn?"

"Barely anything. Just told me she was hurt and you'd fill me in when I got here. Don't care about the details until I know she's alright."

"We should talk first. I promise I'll be as brief as possible, but there are some things you should know first. And it'll be up to you to decide whether to tell her you're here."

"Bloody hell, Red! Stop with the cryptic and tell me what's going on."

"Let's go into the parlor." Deciding storming through the place would do him no good, he followed her into one of the sitting rooms. He picked a soft burgundy arm chair and sat down in a frustrated huff as a second servant brought him a mug of warm blood. He waited as Willow took a cup of tea and sat across from him. The redhead always did take her time.

About two years earlier, she explained, the magic that was keeping Dawn, the Key, corporeal started to fade. It was correcting the memories of everyone one around her. They forgot who she was, and even new memories of Dawn would not take root. The Council completed some extensive research and testing on the matter, but there was ultimately nothing they could do to counter-act the spell, or recreate the memories. The fewer memories a person had combined with their age and magical resistance determined how fast it happened. Besides the vampires, Willow, Giles and Buffy were the only ones who remembered her 18 months later. Now, however, it was just Willow, Spike and Angel. The real kicker was the monks didn't factor in the Key's needs. Since she wasn't real, they didn't bother spending energy to correct her memories.

"So you're telling me the Bit's watching everyone forget about her, but remembers them perfectly?"

"Yep. Her memories are out of sync with everyone else's."

"So she came to you for..."

"About nine months ago she came here, asking for sanctuary. Everyone knew she was here, but since then she's only had contact with Angel, Giles and me. She asked us to keep her informed when it looked like someone had lost her. When I told her about Giles last week she shut down. She hasn't talked to anyone since. I shouldn't have told her. That's when she cut us off completely."

"You couldn't have known, pet." Spike leaned forward and reached out to her in an awkward attempt at sympathy.

"I should have, but I was never very empathic, and so wrapped up in everything else that I didn't pay enough attention. She locked herself away so she wouldn't have to stand by as everyone she's ever loved slowly became distant and disinterested." Willow shuddered as the memories washed over her.

"It must have been awful."

"It hit Andrew faster than anyone anticipated. Everything seemed to be fine but one morning he woke up and freaked out because there was a stranger his house. That was the day she packed a bag and came here."

"Ponce never did deserve her." Spike muttered. Willow looked at him sharply.

"He loved her, Spike. Nobody took better care of Dawn than he did."

"I did." He said defensively. "When she'd let me."

"You left." Willow countered. "When we all regrouped after Los Angeles you didn't stick around two months before you decided it was time to see the world again."

"Because she was with that stupid git!" Willow leaned back stunned. Spike sulked in his mug.

"When did this happen?"

"Don't know. When she was younger it was more of a brother thing. 'Course, at that time I would have done anything the slayer asked so that start out as a 'make nice with the kid so the blonde will see what a swell guy you are' deal. After the First, I knew Buffy was never going to happen. Her and Angel, that's just not something a bloke can get between. Not for very long anyway."

"So then Dawn is a replacement?"

"Nah, she's her own thing. Girl grew up just right, didn't she? There's something about her. She's innocent, even after all she's seen, and she's got so much fire and passion. IT draws a man. After everything she's been through, to come out on the other side so radiant and pure…" He blushed and cursed the terrible poet still trapped inside him. He cleared his throat and scrutinized the contents of his mug.

"Angel knew, then." Willow smiled, understanding. "That's why he suggested you try to talk to her."

"Yeah. We had it out a couple of years ago, once it looked like he was going to pull the always and forever bit with the slayer. Something about clearing the air between us. Right noble of him, I suppose, but when he mentioned Dawn and the boy I lost my head. He called me on it. Always has been a bit too intuitive, even for a grand-sire." He took another gulp, but the cooled liquid had lost its appeal. He set the half-drunk mug on the small antique side-table next to his chair.

"You should know that Angel and I disagreed on whether or not you should try and see her. We thought we'd leave it up to you. It's your call."

"Why wouldn't I want to see her?"

"She has always..." Willow wrung her hands, trying to find the right explanation. "Well...you're very special to her, so seeing you, knowing you're here might do her more harm than good. Giles was bad enough for her to go hermit on us. She thinks you're lost to her, so maybe it's a better idea for you to stay that way."

"You're the one who thinks I shouldn't be here." She winced at the threat in his voice.

"I did. But that was before seeing you again. You've changed, Spike. You're ... mellower than before. I think whatever you do you'll have her best interest at heart. I hate the idea of her sitting in her room day after day just waiting for nothing to happen." Spike relaxed back into his chair. "She doesn't do anything anymore. She just sits in her room writing, reading, doing whatever. The only people she allows are the servants, and that's only when absolutely necessary. It's like...like she's already lost to me and I can't stand it." Willow stopped to wipe the tears away and Spike reached out his hand to make an awkward attempt at comforting her.

"Terrible burden you've strapped yourself with, Red."

"It's selfish of me, but I want her to see you. I know it'll probably hurt her more at the end, but I want her happy now. I want her to remember what life is supposed to be like."

"Sounds like a fine plan. Just let me in there." Willow laughed short.

"Easier said than done. I'm not kidding when I said she won't accept visitors. Her rooms are off limits to everyone."

"You've been in this place too long, Willow. Not everyone." Willow's brow wrinkled with confusion and curiosity.

********

The knock at the servants' entrance to her rooms was right on time. She had to hand it to these English servants. They may be faceless and impersonal, but they were always punctual. She didn't want more than that, anyway.

"It's open," Dawn called from her bed in the adjacent room. She heard Nameless open the door, and set the tray on her small dining table. The door closed again and she was about to get up when a shadow stepped in the doorway between her bedroom and the sitting room. She looked up, ready to scold Nameless, who must be new, and not familiar with the ground rules and her eyes locked with a set of steely blue ones.

Spike was grateful that breathing was unnecessary, because it would have caught in his throat otherwise. She was lounging comfortably on her bed, in a long Asian-inspired red silk robe, with the trademark tank top and pajama bottoms underneath. Her hair was shorter than it had been when he last saw her and it hung straight to just above her shoulders. Willow hadn't prepared him for how thin she'd become. There were books and notebooks everywhere he could see. Apparently hermit life had not quelled her thirst for knowledge or for writing down everything she saw. A few scented candles burned in one corner, but it couldn't diffuse the stale, lifeless scent that hung in the air. It smelled of Dawn, but it smelled sad and tragic and it hurt him more than he expected to see her sitting there. Her misery was palpable and assaulted all his senses. He stuffed it all down and held her gaze as steadily as possible.

"What are you....?" Her face was a complex blend of hope and fear. She forced herself away from his eyes and turned back to her book. She was not going through this again. Not even for Spike. "Get out."

"Not gonna happen, love." He took a step towards her.

"Get out, Spike. Don't make me say it again." Her voice was harsh and raw, the kind of sound it made when she was trying to choke back a sob. She looked up, anger blazing behind her eyes. It wasn't fooling him. He felt her fear more than anything else now. He took another step towards her.

"You can hide from the rest of 'em, Dawn. But you're not hiding from me."

"GET OUT!" She threw the hardbound book at him, and he easily dodged it. He stopped a few steps short of her bed, trying to maintain a balance between determined and unthreatening. Dawn was trembling with rage. "Nobody comes in here with out my express permission, and you do not have it, Spike."

"Never been one for rules myself." Dawn looked around, desperate for an escape, but knew she was trapped.

"Where's Willow? She would never allow this."

"Yes she would, sweetie." Willow stepped into the doorway. "This isn't healthy, and I've let you fester in here too long."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere. You can't kick me out, the Council won't let you." She crossed her arms in front of her. Spike couldn't help but notice the fetching affect it had on her cleavage.

"Excellent idea, Niblet. We should have thought of it." He turned to Willow, and Dawn was unable to see the look of concern on his face. All she could hear was the confidence in his voice. "We'll get an expense account, I think. It's the least those stuffed shirts can do. Book us a flight and a place in New York. One of those ritzy five-star places that don't ask too many questions." Willow nodded, and practically skipped out of the room. He grabbed a backpack sitting in a corner and tossed it on Dawn's bed.

"You cannot just come in here...and...do this."

"Watch me, pet." He walked over to the one window in the room. He gripped the heavy curtains and threw them open.

"Spike! NO!" she cried out and practically jumped off the bed to prevent the vampire from incinerating himself. He turned and grinned as indirect sunlight spilled into the room.

"It's London, love. The sun never shines here. But it's lovely to know you care." She scowled and turned away, planting herself more firmly in her bed. He walked over to her dresser. "Got anything in here you particularly fancy? Figure we can dress you up right once we get going, but I know how you girls get with your favorites."

"This coming from a man whose entire wardrobe still consists of black pants and red shirts." He chuckled and began opening drawers, rifling through the contents, occasionally tossing a garment on the bed. A pair of jeans, a couple well-worn t-shirts, a thick sweater and so on. When he hit her underwear drawer, he blushed crimson and hastily shut it.

"Right then." He stared at the wall in front of him. "We'll let you pack that one." She hid her smile before he turned around. He headed towards her bathroom to collect a few necessities.

"I'm not packing anything, because I'm not going." She yelled after him from the bed. If she got up, he won, so she stayed sitting. "Who do you think you are, that you can just come here and tell me I'm leaving and expect me to comply?"

"Because I know you, pet." He walked back into the room and pointed a toothbrush at her before cramming it into the pack along with her hairbrush and a small bag of makeup he found in the bathroom. "The girl you were wouldn't be wasting the last of it in a small little room all huddled up in her bed. She'd be out fighting for every moment. Knew that the first time I saw you." He scanned the room, searching for something else she might want with her. He spied a journal on a desk and went to grab it, but the intensity of her voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Tell me about when you met me, Spike."

"Why?"

"To see if you remember."

"Alright, love." He turned back and she had tucked her body up, hugging her knees to her chest with her chin on her hands. He sat at her feet and never broke eye contact with her. "The first time I met you was the first time I'd really met any of you. It was the night we attacked the high school. Once I figured you were the slayer's kid sister, I made to grab you. Your mum came up with an axe and started screaming at me. While I was arguing with her, you bit into my arm-hard, mind you, and kicked me where a bloke doesn't like to get kicked." Her eyes watered and a tear spilled out.

"I remember," she said with a sad smile. "Buffy had us convinced you were a drugged up gang-leader. I didn't find out the truth until later, when Angelus showed up." He wiped a tear off her cheek and smoothed her hair.

"I'm not going to forget you, Dawn."

"They all said that." Her eyes unfocused and she looked away. He touched her chin and turned her back to his eyes and away from painful memories.

"But I'm a vampire. Got more than a couple of lifetimes of memories in my noggin. Won't be forgetting yours any time soon. That's a promise."

"You can't promise something like that."

"I just did, pet. No sense telling me otherwise." She looked over at the half-packed bag, around the room, and out the window. Her face wrinkled with fear and grief. Spike stood up and bent over her. He placed a kiss on her forehead as she looked up at him.

"I'm so scared, Spike," she confessed, her voice barely a whisper.

"Come with me, love." He extended a hand to her. "I'll keep the scary bits away."

********

"It's all arranged." Willow was waiting in the front hall as they decended the front steps a few minutes later. Dressed, but still reluctant, Dawn followed meekly as Spike led her down the stairs, hand in hand. Willow handed Spike a leather-bound case, slipping into a matronly voice of authority. "The flight's a charter from an airline that's used to clients with special needs and a car will be waiting in the hanger so you're guaranteed a sunshine-free trip. The case has tickets, reservation numbers, a credit card and some cash. Don't go wild though, I've still got to justify all the charges." She winked at him.

"Thanks, pet. Always knew I could count on you." She hugged the vampire tightly and he returned the hug with his free arm. Tears clung to her lashes as she kissed Dawn on the cheek and hugged her as well. Emotions between the two women were too strong for either to find her voice.

"Take care of her, Spike." Willow said under her breath as she watched them slip into the waiting car. Spike turned back after closing Dawn's door.

"I always do, Red."

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