Passions was on when Dawn knocked on Giles’ door. Spike recognized her scent before he even answered, and gave the teen a smile as he swung the door open.
“Hello, Bit,” he greeted, using the door to shield him from the sunlight that streamed in the open doorway.
“How’d you know it was me?” she asked, smiling until she saw his face- still bruised from the beating he’d suffered.
He tapped his nose as he closed the door and ushered her into the living room. “Can sniff your Teen Spirit from here, Bit.”
She blushed. “Sorry, dumb question, huh?”
Spike shrugged, moving to sit on the couch. Dawn sat next to him, placing her book bag on the floor.
“Came here from school, eh?”
Dawn nodded. “Mom told me you were house-sitting for Giles while he’s in England.”
“Yeah, Ol’ Rupert hasn’t kicked me out yet.”
“How are you feeling?”
Spike gave her a fond look for her concern. “Mending.”
“I can’t believe Buffy beat you up like that. I mean, you can’t even defend yourself!”
“Now now, you can’t blame Big Sis. She’s goin’ through a lot, and I haven’t given her much reason to trust me in the past,” he said gently.
Dawn’s face grew earnest. “But you’ve changed! You’ve been helping us. You’ve been helping with patrol, and stuff. And helping me…”
“Still a demon, pet. Nothin’ will change that.”
Dawn looked away, pensive. “I just think she blames you for things you didn’t do.”
“That may be so, but if it is, there’s nothin’ you or I can do about it. Tell me about your mum. How’s she doin’?”
Dawn perked up, smiling. “She’s home! The surgery went great and the doctors say they got all of the tumor.”
He shared her enthusiasm. “That’s wonderful news, Bit. Now we just have to make sure she heals up right.”
Dawn nodded vigorously, and he smiled to himself.
‘No time like the present…’
Spike motioned towards the television. “Was watchin’ that show they have… Operation. Lotsa blood and guts that is. They got cameras in the operatin’ room. Show ya everything.”
Dawn’s nose crinkled. “Eeewww.”
“Hey, bloke’s gotta get his jollies some way. Anyway, they were talkin’ ‘bout risks after certain operations. Blood clots and the like. Your mum’s doc’s gonna put her on blood thinners right?”
“I… I dunno…”
‘Okay, look earnest…’
“Maybe oughtta talk to her about it. Blood clots in the brain are no good. An’ with her comin’ out of the surgery so well, don’t wanna be takin’ any chances, now do we?”
‘There. Plant *that* little bug in her ear.’
Dawn’s eyes grew wide and Spike saw the glimmer of fear in them. “No. We don’t. I’ll talk to her about it, Spike. Thanks.”
He shrugged. “Was just a thought.”
She touched his hand.
“A good thought. See what I mean? You’d never have thought about that before. You never would have even cared if Mom got sick. You have changed.” She edged a little closer, eyes hooded and shy. “I think you’re beginning to like us.”
‘Warning! Warning! Teenage hormone bomb movin’ in for the kill. Gotta head it off at the pass…’
He moved further away on the couch, crossing his legs to make it harder to get closer. “So, Bit, how’s Big Sis?”
The mention of her sister had the desired effect and cooled Dawn’s unwelcome advances.
“She’s okay,” Dawn answered with a shrug. “Riley’s gone though.”
He feigned innocence even though Giles had already told him of Riley’s departure. “Soldier Boy?”
“Yeah. Off to Belize or some place like that. He and Buffy broke up. He had a vamp problem.”
“A vamp problem?”
“Yeah, he was paying vamps to bite him. Made him feel needed.”
“What? Did Big Sis tell you that?”
Dawn shook her head. “Overheard her talking to Willow about it.”
Spike gave her a proud smile. “Becomin’ a veritable little eavesdropper, eh, Nibblet?”
She shrugged. “It’s easy when no one notices you.”
“Oh, I doubt they don’t notice you.”
“Sometimes it feels that way.”
His caring instincts towards the girl overrode his reservations towards allowing her to get too close, and he moved closer.
“Believe me, Bit, you are not the type of girl that goes unnoticed,” he assured, leaning towards her.
She looked at him, her eyes hopeful, preening. “Really? You think so?”
He pulled back, but answered with complete honesty, “Absolutely.”
Her grin was genuine and he had to smile.
“Thanks, Spike. I mean, with Mom’s illness, and this new demon, I think Buffy sees me as a nuisance.”
He reached out and pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. It was something he had been reluctant to do the last time he had lived this time, but months of caring for Dawn in the summer of Buffy’s death and all of the changes he had gone through in that time, gave him a new ease. He knew Dawn was a tactile person, like he was, and that she craved physical contact. He wondered if the need for touch was a ‘Key-thing’ or if it was something the monks hadn’t anticipated.
“You’re never a nuisance, Sweet Bit. You’re the Apple of everyone’s eye. And anyone that doesn’t think you’re wonderful is a bloody pillock.”
She giggled at his words and smiled.
“Thanks, Spike.”
He sat back and patted his thigh. “So, what they teachin’ you in school these days?”
Dawn retrieved her book bag and pulled it to her lap. “I have a test on World War I in history on Friday.”
“World War I, eh? You do know who really started that war, right?”
“The Austrians who wanted revenge for the murder of Arch Duke Ferdinand, and Germany gave them the Blank Check to do what they wanted and sent troops.”
Spike shook his head vigorously. “No, that’s not what happened, Bit. Yeah, the Duke got killed and the Austrians were madder than Hell. And since Germany and Austria are practically the same country as far as the Royal Family goes Old Kaiser William felt obligated to lend a hand. No, Bit, if you read between the lines, you’ll learn that France was the one that pushed for the declaration of War against Germany.”
Dawn’s brow creased. “Well, yeah, coz Yugoslavia was afraid Germany would attack them.”
“Bollocks,” he argued, pointing a finger at her. “You mark my words, it was the French that started World War I, not the Germans. If the French had kept their noses out of it, Austria would’ve gotten revenge for Ferdinand’s murder and that would have been it.”
She pulled out her history text book. “That’s not what my book says.”
“Sod the book. Don’t they tell you that history is written by the victors? Of course they wouldn’t tell you the truth. Believe me, Bit. Take it from someone who was there. It was the French.”
She laughed. “If you say so.”
“Oh, I say so. In fact, if you look at history, the French are responsible for a whole lot of evil things that they never got called on.”
Dawn was smiling, her eyes dancing with mirth. She knew he was playing with her and loved it.
‘No one ever gives this poor girl anything but grief.’
“Oh really?” she said teasingly.
“Hell yeah. I mean, French fashion is the worst, and the food! They eat *snails* for god sakes, and *frogs legs!* They have absolutely no concept of real food. Pate and crepes… disgusting. Give me a juicy London sausage or leg of mutton any day.”
Dawn laughed outright, her joy filling the room. He pressed on, grinning at her.
“And café au lait, and croissants, and frillin’ champagne! Wine with *bubbles*, a true sign of a weak mind, I tell you.”
She was laughing so hard that tears were leaking from her eyes and she was gasping for breath.
“And their dogs! Useless mongrels they are. Bichons and bloody French *poodles!* Bloody poofters the lot of ‘em!”
“Stop! Stop!” Dawn cried through breathless gasps. “You’re killin’ me!”
Spike chuckled, smiled. “Oh pet, if I was killin’ you, you’d know it.”
“You always make me laugh, Spike.”
“It’s good to see a smile on your face, Bit. Can’t stand to see a Summers woman frown. And speakin’ of frownin’, your mum know you’re here?”
Dawn looked guilty and he scowled at her.
“Now, Bit, we can’t be havin’ her worried about you. She’ll send Big Sis and things’ll get ugly. You use that phone over there and call her ‘fore Buffy comes blazin’ in here with stakes drawn.”
“Okay.”
She unfolded herself from the couch and did as he asked. A few moments later she came back.
“Mom needs me home, so I have to go. She was glad I called. She was getting worried, but when I said I was over here with you, she was cool. She told me to tell you to come over sometime.”
“I’d like that. Tell ‘er I’ll be by.”
“I will,” she promised, shouldering her book bag and heading for the door.
“Bye Spike. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Bye, Bit. I’ll be seein’ you.”
She gave him a final fond glance and headed out, closing the door quietly behind her. After she was gone, he tried to re-focus on watching TV, but found that he missed her. There had been a time when it had been normal for him to be with her in this setting. He had many memories of sitting in the Summers’ living room, watching TV while Dawn did her homework.
There were quiet evenings spent together, both together and separate in their loss and grief. Sometimes they would talk or play cards. He’d taught her to play poker. Dawn had an amazing poker face, and she’d made him proud with her bluffing skills. Sometimes he would help her with her homework, telling her about his recollection of history and his classic English training. Oh how William would come out to play on those nights. Only Dawn ever saw, of course, but he would read poetry and recite Shakespeare and make her laugh with his antics. It seemed that he was the only one who could get a smile out of her in those early days.
Then there were the times when the loss got too much, and she would crawl into his arms and he would hold her. Her head would rest against his chest, her hair tickling his chin, and he would lose himself in her scent and heartbeat. Two orphans, they were, clinging to each other in a world that had brought them so much pain and so little understanding.
Buffy’s friends had discouraged Dawn after a while, thinking it unhealthy for her to be so attached to him, to a soulless vampire, and their times together became more and more infrequent. Relegated to the outside again, like a dog that was supposed to be mean but only wanted to be loved, he hung on the fringes, looking in, missing his brief moments of acceptance.
‘Moments of splendor in the grass…’ he thought, wincing at the way the verse came back with such ease. William might have been dead for over 120 years, but his essence lived on in Spike, and now his soul was known to spout poetry at odd moments.
He was kicked to curb completely, of course, after said friends ripped Buffy out of Heaven. No longer needed, he was all but abandoned, tossed away like so much garbage. The undead, evil thing who was incapable of feeling, whose broken heart could only find solace at the bottom of a bottle. He hardly ever saw Dawn then, and after the stint with the singing demon, Buffy had nothing but anger for him. It wasn’t his fault he spoke the truth, but she didn’t see it that way. Then again, Buffy’s primary defense mechanism was denial.
Even after she had begun their torrid affair, she had denied everything between them. She denied her feelings for him and completely disregarded his feelings for her. Coming to him, hating him, hating herself and using him, she never once allowed herself to think that what they had could be something more, something wonderful.
She’d never let him be gentle. Sex between them had always been violent and raw, except for the one time, the time right before Soldier Boy returned as the triumphant hero and blew everything to Hell. That had been the only time they had even come close to the lovemaking he had wanted to share with her. If only she had let him…
‘Ah, don’t go there. That way lies madness. Or more of it than there already is,’ he chastised himself.
Turning off the TV, he rose to his feet.
‘This Nibblet will never love you as the only thing that kept her safe and sane. She will never look at you with eyes that reflect your own pain and understand it. She will never hang on your every word and trust you with her life,’ he thought, resigned. ‘But this Dawn will also never lose her mother or see her sister sacrifice herself for her. She will never know grief or pain or terror, because I will stop it. Joyce will not die and Buffy will not jump to her death to save her sister, and no one but Giles will ever be the wiser that it had ever been any different. And no one will know what I sacrificed to make it all possible.’
He sighed and looked at the clock.
‘Olaf’ll be makin’ his appearance soon. Best get ready.’
He forced one foot in front of the other until he got to the bathroom.
‘Wash your face, comb your hair. Don’t think about anything beyond that.’
Part of him wished for a Polaroid camera so he could see how bad the bruises on his face were. It had been a week, and the swelling and most of the soreness was gone. Still, Dawn had winced when she saw him, so there must be some discoloration left.
‘Naught to be done for it.’
He sniffed his shirt to make sure it smelled okay and splashed some water on his face. Then he combed back his hair and walked to the living room to put on his coat. His duster was his shield against the world and he donned it like armor, protecting him from harm. He stood a little taller, his shoulders a little straighter, his heart a little braver.
‘Once more unto the brink.’
He opened the door and walked out into the night.
Part 2:
Spike was at the Bronze when Xander bumped into him, just as he had before, and from there, the timeline was pretty much the same. He pushed Xander’s buttons by stealing peanuts, and eventually he and Xander struck up a game of pool. He listened to Xander bemoan his situation with Anya and Willow, knowing full well that Olaf would be coming in any minute. Still, he tried to pretend that he was paying attention and made appropriate comments where necessary.
The biggest difference, of course, was that he wasn’t carrying the guilt of telling Buffy about Riley’s bad habit. In this timeline, Giles had broken the news to the Slayer and he had not had to bear the brunt of Buffy’s ire. This in and of itself was a relief. He hated having Buffy angry at him because an angry Slayer was a violent Slayer, much more apt to break his nose than listen to him. In this timeline, he might have more of a chance of actually talking to her. It would also be the first time since the beating that he would see her, and he knew that she was carrying at least some guilt and remorse over her behavior.
“They get in these fights and then they’re both looking to me, like I’m the referee. Also, sometimes I’ll say something about Anya, and Willow will get this look. This ‘what the hell do you see in her’ look,” Xander was saying as they played pool.
Spike nodded sympathetically. “I know that look. Lot of people never really got Dru, you know?”
“Well, she was insane,” he commented offhandedly, ignoring Spike’s irritated glance. “And then it’s like, I get all torn, because Willow’s my best friend, and I really value her opinion. But Anya’s my girlfriend, you know?”
“Nothin’ like split loyalties. I know all about that,” Spike said with a sigh.
That caught Xander’s attention. “What do you mean?”
Spike shrugged. “The whole Acathla thing with Angelus and Dru. Owed ‘em as my family, didn’t wanna turn against Dru, but they were gonna destroy the world, y’know? I had to do something. Truce with the Slayer seemed the right thing ta do. How was I to know Dru’d never forgive me?”
“Buffy told me how you helped her. Even if you were only doing it for selfish reasons, I don’t know if she could have beaten them both if you hadn’t taken care of Drusilla. You really helped.”
Spike was taken back. “Harris are you *thanking* me?”
Xander made another shot. “Don’t ever tell anyone or you are so dust.”
Spike smirked, feeling something bloom inside his chest. “My lips are sealed forever, whelp.”
Just then, he was bumped from behind and he knew immediately who it was.
‘Showtime.’
“Hey! Watch it, mate!” he groused, turning to see the troll. “Second thought, do what you like.”
“Ale!” the troll yelled happily, grabbing a keg from a handtruck. “Yes! Fragrant ale! I have been trapped for many centuries and along with my taste of freedom I would appreciate the taste of a fine grain-based beverage!”
He tucked his hammer into its holder, raised the keg with one hand and bit into it, draining it while Spike and Xander watched.
“So, um… think I should run get Buffy?” Xander whispered.
Spike shrugged as Olaf threw the empty keg to the ground.
“Barmaid! Fetch me stronger ale! And some plump succulent babies to eat!” the troll ordered.
“I’m gonna run get Buffy,” Xander said, then turned to Spike. “Or you can fight him!”
Spike sized up the troll. “Yeah, I could do that if I had a death wish.”
Xander moved to head for the exit, but before he could take a single step, the troll noticed them.
“You there! Do you know where there are babies?” he asked.
Spike decided that he liked teasing Xander and turned to him as he had before, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “What do you think? The hospital, maybe?”
The comment worked and Xander bristled. “What? Shut up!”
Spike smiled to himself. ‘Gotta get my kicks in somehow.’
“Um... listen...” Xander was saying to the troll.
“I find myself very hungry and when I am hungry I get short of patience!”
“Hey, we can take care of hungry. How ‘bout you just sit down, on one of the sturdier chairs, and we can talk calmly and have some food.”
“Can it be babies?” the troll asked hopefully.
“Well, not so much. But maybe... roast pigs and... stags... and much hearty grog!”
“They have this onion thing-“ Spike offered helpfully.
“You cannot appease me! Do not try!” the troll yelled, then turned to the bar and grabbed another keg. “More ale!”
Spike and Xander backed away from the distracted troll and ran into Willow and Anya, who had just entered. Willow was carrying a book.
“Your work, Red?” Spike asked innocently.
While the young witch was tongue-tied, Anya noticed Xander.
“Xander! You shouldn’t be here! There’s a troll!” she exclaimed.
“Big guy? Hammer? Think I noticed him.”
“I wish Buffy was here,” Willow bemoaned as the troll drank another keg.
Just then Buffy and Tara entered and came running over.
“I’m here,” Buffy said, breathless.
“I wish for a million dollars,” Willow said, surprised at Buffy’s timely appearance, then saw Xander’s look. “Just checking.”
Tara immediately hugged Willow. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“What’s going on?” Buffy demanded. “Where’d he come from?”
Knowing she hadn’t seen him yet, he stepped forward tentatively, face slightly down so as not to display the bruises too much.
“Hello Buffy,” he said carefully.
She saw him and her jaw dropped, then her face filled with shame and she looked away.
“Spike.”
“I was here when he showed up. Easily ticked off. Likes his beer. Could put somethin’ in a keg maybe. Knock ‘im out,” he suggested.
Shocked that he was trying to be helpful, she raised her eyes to stare at him.
“Umm… that’s… that’s a good idea,” she stammered.
“Yeah.” He looked at her, his vision condensing until she was the only thing that existed. “Heard Joyce is doing well. Nibblet told me,” he said suddenly, not wanting to lose her attention.
A smile cracked her face and she beamed. “Yeah, she’s doing great. We’re really happy.”
He smiled back. “I’m glad. She’s a great woman, your mum.”
Buffy looked away. “Yeah, she is.”
“You look good too… better.”
She looked back up and he saw the thin line of tears in her eyes. “Yeah. Well… I… I gotta… y’know…” She pointed a thumb at Olaf. “Troll.”
He nodded and leaned close. “Get ‘is hammer. All his power’s in the hammer.”
Buffy’s eyes opened wide. “Oh.”
He looked around at the people who seemed oblivious to the danger they were in. “You want, I could try to clear this place out. Less chance of someone gettin’ hurt.”
“That… that would be very helpful,” she stammered, still shocked.
He nodded, forming a plan in his head. “Listen, trolls are testy buggers.” He gave a nod towards Willow who was flipping through her spellbook. “If Red’s fixin’ to do some mojo, best take it outside. He gets pissed off and starts swingin’ that hammer, he could bring the whole place down.”
Buffy’s gaze followed his to all the people in the club and she got the “I’m the Slayer and this is my job” look on her face. Spike smiled because he loved to see her work; she was glorious to him.
“Right. Good idea. You work on clearing these people out of here. I’ll get big and drinky outside.”
Given his marching orders, he left Buffy to deal with Olaf and set on emptying the club. The first thing he did was pull the fire alarm, but amazingly, that only cleared out a third of the crowd. So he jumped onto the stage, unplugged the sound system, and grabbed a wireless mike that was still turned on.
“Oi! People! This is not a drill! Clear out now!” he ordered.
They stared stupidly at him.
“What, are all of you seriously stoned?! There’s bloody alarm goin’ off. Find the nearest exit and bugger off!”
They still stared, not comprehending at all. Spike raised his eyes to the ceiling, counted to ten, then gave up.
“Oh, bugger it.”
He shifted into gameface and roared. “GET OUT!”
That did it. The residents of Sunnydale might be too daft to pay any attention to a fire alarm, but give them a bloodthirsty killer and they reacted.
Screams echoed off the club walls and the crowd made a mass stampede for the exits. The scent of fear gave him a headrush and he grinned, still in demon face.
“Yeah, that’s it, ya blighters. I’m the Big Bad! Run, you sods! Get outta here!”
He gave a few more growls for good measure as the last of the patrons ran squealing out, then took stock of his work. The place was empty, Buffy and the Scoobies were gone, so was the troll, and the club was intact. He grinned, realizing he had averted the disaster that had closed down the club, raised prices and axed the blooming onion.
‘Not bad for a day’s work.’
Still in gameface, he sauntered up to the deserted bar, and walked behind it, perusing the selection of liquor. He knew that his job was done for the day. Buffy and Red would send Olaf packing off to Troll Paradise and get the Hammer in trade. Xander would get beat up, but at least it wasn’t him for once and the whelp wouldn’t be too badly damaged. All would end well, and for his part in the whole thing, he deserved a beer.
‘Ah… Pete’s Wicked Ale. Didn’t know they had this. Wankers keep it hidden.’
He snagged a bottle, opened it with his teeth, and took a deep swig. Pulling it back, he shook off his demon.
‘Nothin’ like a fang to get in the way of a good beer.’
He was just finishing his third bottle when Giles came staggering in, holding what was left of a statue. Seeing the look on the Watcher’s face, he pulled another beer from behind the bar and slammed it on the counter. Giles came over and sat on a stool.
“Back early, Rupes?”
“You… you didn’t tell me it was quite that bad,” Giles said, stunned, even as he reached for the beer.
Spike shrugged. “Tried to warn ya, but hey! Look! I saved the bloomin’ onion!”
Giles gave a disinterested glance to the empty club. “Well, yes, bully for you.” He took a swig of the beer Spike had given him and shook his head. “God, this is hard.”
“Why do you think I spend most of my time drunk, Rupes? It’s either that or go stark, raving mad.”
“Yes, well, I would argue that it might be too late for that,” the Watcher commented.
Spike shrugged and raised his bottle.
“So, Buffy defeats the troll?”
Spike nodded. “Yep. With Red’s help. They get the Hammer, Olaf gets shipped off to Troll Paradise and all is well in SunnyHell for another week.”
Giles was still dazed. “How very… reassuring.”
Spike looked away and took another drink. “S’all we can hope for, Watcher. So, meet-n-greet with the Council of Wankers any good?”
“They are sending a team here to evaluate the situation.”
“Told you they would.”
“Yes, however, knowing that and reconciling it are two entirely different things.”
“How do you think I feel?”
The words seemed to shake Giles out of his stupor and he cocked his head.
“Yes… I do wonder sometimes.”
Giles reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of fine sand. He then threw it on Spike, shouting, “Illuminati!”
“What the? Oi, Rupert! What ya do that for?” Spike yelled, brushing off the sand angrily. “Oh, and ya even got it in my beer, ya wanker!”
He looked over at Giles, who was staring at him, dumbfounded.
“What?” he demanded.
“You have a soul,” came the monotone answer.
“Well, duh. I told you I have a soul.”
“Yes, but I didn’t believe you. I was convinced you had found a way to lie even under the Truth Spell, because if what you told me was true then…” He trailed off.
Spike sighed, understanding. “Yeah. I know. But believe me, Watcher, I wish was lying. Cosmic joke this is.”
“I’ve always suspected that the Powers That Be had a sick sense of humor. Now I have proof,” Giles said woodenly.
The words stung more than they should have, but he couldn’t help feeling hurt. Giles was his only confidante in this mess, the only one who shared the heavy burden with him, and now it had been revealed that the Watcher hadn’t believed him all along. It cut him, bringing all his feelings of betrayal and inadequacy to the fore.
“Well, yeah. Unlikely hero here. Makin’ the world safe for puppies, Christmas and bloomin’ onions. About all I’m good for. If I hadn’t colossally screwed up when I had the chance, none of it would have happened.”
Giles looked apologetic. “I didn’t mean it that way, Spike. You’re doing… the best you can.”
“Yeah, but it’s not good enough, and it never will be,” he replied, then shrugged. “Look, I’ve a hankerin’ to drown my sorrows in solitude. I’m pretty much healed up now, and I thank you for your hospitality, but I’m gonna go back to my crypt. You look me up when you wanna do another plannin’ session over a few bottles of booze, and I’ll be game. In the meantime, I’ll go back to my cave where all us nasties belong.”
He began walking towards the exit. Giles tried to stop him.
“Spike, I…”
“Can it, Rupert. Can’t handle it right now.”
He looked back at the man who was looking broken and exhausted, and knew Giles looked like he felt inside.
“You do what you gotta do, and I’ll do what I gotta do. And we’ll leave it at that.” He turned away and stalked out. “More beer’s behind the bar, Watcher. Help yourself,” he called over his shoulder as he left.
He did not look back.
*******
For the next couple of days, Spike sulked in his crypt. He’d gone out only once during his fit of pique, and that had been to assist Buffy with a vampire. He remembered helping her from before, remembered taunting her about her looks and her inability to keep a man, but this time, he was oddly quiet. He saw the vamp slam her backwards and moved in for the kill. He dusted it and stepped back, waiting for Buffy to yell at him for getting in her way, but she hadn’t. They made pleasantries, just as they had the night Olaf was in the Bronze. He asked about her mother and she replied that Joyce was recovering, but that the house was a mess.
She then complained about her classes and the cutting remarks a professor had made. He had listened and confirmed her belief that Rasputin was indeed a demon. Her smile had warmed him, and he wondered if she really didn’t know how intelligent she was. He knew she hated school, that studying was a hardship for her, but he also knew that she had done fairly well on her SAT scores.
Buffy was far from stupid, but like so many young people in the modern times, the antiquated teaching methods of the schools failed to create an environment that made learning interesting for her. Without her mind engaged and interested, she simply didn’t apply herself. Instead, she allowed her low grade point average to convince her that she was dumb, and accepted the common belief that she was not fit for higher education. He wondered how she would do in a small, personalized situation, where her quick mind was fed all the right things. He had no doubt that she’d surprise everyone, herself most of all.
Their little non-violent interaction had been pleasant, and he had returned to his crypt a little lighter hearted than he had been before. It wore off in a few hours, though, when he was left alone with his memories and nightmares and the firm belief that nothing he could do would make any difference. It wasn’t enough to make him give up, however, and he did tidy up his crypt in anticipation of the Council of Wankers barging in to interview him.
They showed up right on time, crossbow and crucifix in hand, to ask him questions about Buffy and her work. Souled, but still prone to impatience with obvious hubris, he played with them a bit, feeding them stories of his and Buffy’s adventures and flirting with the young woman. It had been fun to yank them around, and he’d actually felt quite a bit better after they’d gone. Part of this was because he knew he had helped Buffy a great deal in making her look like Super Slayer in the eyes of the Council, and the other part was his evil smugness in knowing he was light years ahead of them in knowing what was going on with Glory, the Hell Bitch.
After they left, he aired out the place to get rid of the smell of Stuffed Shirt, and tidied up some more because he knew Buffy would be bringing Joyce and Dawn over for him to watch and protect. Then he settled in to take a nap. He knew Buffy would wake him when she brought her mother and sister over, and he didn’t want it to look like he had been expecting company.
She woke him up a few hours later by slamming the door and shining sunlight on him. He leapt up, startled, ready to fight, then relaxed when he saw her.
“Oh, it’s the Slayer,” he commented, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “For a second there, I was worried.”
He nodded his head towards Joyce and Dawn who were standing behind Buffy, looking rather uncertain.
“What’s with the family outing?” he asked.
Buffy came close and he focused on her. She looked worn and frightened, and he once again fought the urge to reach out. He almost choked on it, that and the knowledge that she saw him as nothing more than a monster to be used and discarded at her convenience.
“I need your help,” she said earnestly.
He’d snarked at her before, demanding cash, but this time, he softened and leaned close.
“What is it? Is there danger?”
The look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know about her surprise and her gratitude.
‘See, there’s a man in this monster. A man who loves you and will do anything for you. Can you bring yourself to see him, Buffy?’
“You have to look after them,” she said in a serious voice.
He pretended to be affronted. It was no good to be too helpful. Being too helpful usually earned him a few bruises.
“Whoa. That’s a boatload of manly responsibility to come out of nowhere. What’s the matter, Slayer? Not feeling a hundred percent?”
She shook her head and crinkled her nose. “No, I…”
He decided to tease her a bit. It would make her feel better if he acted ‘normal.’
“They didn’t put a chip in your head, did they?
“No...”
“Be funny if they did,” he said, licking his teeth and smirking.
She lost patience and frowned. “I need an answer. Now. In or out, Spike?” At his pensive look, she added quietly, “You’re... the only one strong enough to protect them.”
‘No, I’m not. I’m a colossal failure at it, but I swear this time around, I’ll do better.’
He gave her a tender smile, confirming her belief that preying on his male ego had convinced him to help her, when just the opposite was true.
“All right then,” he agreed, then turned to Joyce and Dawn. “Ladies, come on in. Plenty of blood in the fridge.”
“You mean like, real blood?” Dawn asked, taking a few tentative steps forward.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you think?”
She crinkled her nose in distaste just the way Buffy did when she was squeamish. “Mostly I think: eww.”
“Mom, keep Dawn here as long as you can. I’ll be back soon as I can,” Buffy told her mother then turned to Spike. “I know I don’t have to tell you this, but...”
He smirked and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah... anything happens to them, I’ll stake you good and proper. Sing me a new one sometime, eh pet? That bit’s gone stale.”
She looked as if she was going to retort something then decided against it. Shaking her head and giving her mother one last reassuring glace, she hurried out. Spike looked at his remaining two reluctant guests as they cast concerned glances around the room. Poor Joyce looked about as out of place as a skinhead at a Mormon Convention.
“I love what you’ve neglected to do with the place,” Joyce finally offered nervously.
He smiled and welcomed them in, going to the beat-up television, knowing that Joyce liked Passions as much as he did, and moving to turn the TV on.
“Just don’t break anything and don’t make a lot of noise - Passions is coming on,” he said.
That got Joyce’s attention as he knew it would, and she came forward to sit on the old chair in front of the television.
“Passions? Oh, do you think Timmy’s really dead?”
He sat next to her on the arm of the chair. “Oh no, she can just sew him back together. He’s a doll for God’s sake.”
“What about the wedding? There’s no way they’re going through with that.”
He smiled to himself, happy to have them there if only for a short while. He was aware of Dawn’s impatience with their preoccupation with soap operas, but he left her be to do her school work as he and Joyce sat by the dim glow of the television.
Two hours later, Joyce was asleep in the chair, Spike’s tattered blanket tucked around her shoulders, while he and Dawn played cards for snack mix on the other side of the crypt.
“Gin!” Dawn exclaimed quietly and Spike scowled.
“Oi! Nibblet. You got me again,” he groused as she dumped the ‘stakes’ bowl of snack mix into her own ‘winnings’ bowl.
She laughed, giving him a coy look. She’d been flirting with him ever since her mother had fallen asleep and he’d turned his attention to the bored teenager.
“You’re not letting me win, are you?” she asked shyly.
“Don’t have to, Bit, you’re a natural. ‘Sides, you think I like losing all of my Chex Mix to you? Stuff’s expensive you know.”
“I think it’s funny that a vampire has real food. I mean, what do you do with it?”
“Eat it, of course.”
“But don’t vampires eat blood?”
“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy other stuff.”
Dawn shrugged as she shuffled the cards. “Angel never ate any human food.”
He took the cards from her and shuffled them himself. “Yeah, well, Angel’s a wanker.”
She giggled and watched as he dealt another hand. Each then looked at their cards and placed their wagers in the ‘stakes’ bowl.
“This is fun,” she said after a short while as they played. “And you’re really good at it.”
“Yeah, well, you grow up in a time without television or radios, gotta do somethin’ ta pass the time. Cards, board games, readin.’ Made the nights go faster.”
“I always thought that was why Victorians had such big families,” she joked with a grin.
He smirked and shook his head. “Not goin’ there with you, Sweet Bit. Sexual relations and the Victorian era were not compatible in any way.”
She leaned close and whispered in a conspiring tone, “I once looked up a book in the library called My Secret Life. I snuck it out of the adults section. There were four volumes of this guy talking about his sex life in Victorian England. He’d go to whore houses to have sex because his wife wasn’t supposed to enjoy having sex with him.”
He leaned back and lit a cigarette. “Yeah, that’d be about right. That whole ‘wifely duty’ thing…” He stopped himself and gave her a piercing glance. “And did I not say that I was not discussing this with you, young lady?”
She laughed, her eyes dancing. “So, what did you do on those cold Victorian nights?”
He took a drag from his cigarette. “If you tell anyone this, I *will* find a way to kill you, understand?”
Her eyes widened a little, but she leaned close expectantly.
“I was a proper English gentleman. I never even thought dirty thoughts.”
She giggled. “You?”
“I was. And I played cards and board games with my mum and little sis on those cold Victorian nights.”
She blinked at his words. “You had a little sister?”
He nodded even as his heart sank. He hadn’t wanted to speak of his family but she’d gotten him into it.
‘Sneaky little chit.’
Closing his eyes and crushing out his cigarette on the stone crypt floor. “I did.”
He hoped that she would now let it go, but she was like a pit bull with a bone.
“What was she like? What was her name?”
He sighed, calling up his sister’s sweet face from memory. They had the same blue eyes, same nose and the same wavy, sandy brown hair.
“Anne. Her name was Anne and she was a lot like you.”
“She was?”
He smiled, remembering Anne’s laughter, and took a sip from the beer he’d been nursing for the past half hour. “Yeah. She was smart and pretty, like you, Bit, and she had a habit of asking the wrong questions at the wrong times. Two peas in a pod, we were. I adored her and she adored me.”
“Did you kill her?” Dawn asked suddenly.
He choked and spit his mouthful of beer all over the floor, startling Dawn and making her scramble backwards.
“Wh…what?” he gasped, staring at her in horror and wiping his mouth.
She looked guilty and ashamed. “Buffy… Buffy always said that when you become a vampire you go back and kill your family.”
“Did she now?” he snapped, making Dawn flinch. “I wonder where she got that idea.”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Now you listen, missy, and you listen good. Just because darling Angelus got a hankerin’ to massacre his folks, does not mean all of us go out and eat the ones who raised us after gettin’ turned,” he snarled.
“O…okay…”
“Angelus hated his father and from what I’ve heard the feelin’ was mutual. He was a womanizing drunkard who would have died from the clap sooner or later,” he continued, ignoring how he was scaring Dawn. “He was a bastard in life and he was an even bigger bastard in unlife. His Brooding Soulness would like you to believe that all us vamps are just like him, but the truth of it is, he was the worst of the lot. Not even Darla, depraved bitch that she was, would do some of the things her precious Childe did without a blink.”
He paused, clenching his fists, not registering that Dawn had pressed herself against the crypt wall because he’d shifted into gameface.
“What… what he did to Dru. Drivin’ her mad, killin’ her family and makin’ her think The Sight was a curse from the devil… That… that was *evil.* At least when I went huntin’, I killed ‘em quick. Even the ones I did with the railroad spike. Once I got ‘round ta doin’ it, I slammed it through right quick. Done. Gone. No messin’ around. I got ‘em, let ‘em know who I was, let ‘em know that I was the one who they’d humiliated and abused, and rammed the spike though their heads. They’d never make fun of me again, blighters.”
He came out of his rant to finally see Dawn cowering away from him, and realized that he had been scaring her. Touching his forehead, he felt the demon ridges, and forced himself to shift back to human face.
“Sorry about that, Bit. I pop off sometimes. Especially when I have to deal with anything havin’ ta do with Angelus.”
Seeing his human face again made her relax a little and she offered him an apologetic smile. “You don’t like him much.”
He lit another cigarette. “Who? The Grand Poof? Hate his guts. Got all souled after eatin’ that gypsy girl, and abandoned me and Dru. Dru cried for weeks. I couldn’t console her. She nearly got us killed dozens of times with her wailin’ and sloppy kills. Then he’s here in SunnyHell when I bring Dru here to get well after that mob in Prague almost killed her. Bein’ all heroic-like and workin’ against us, helpin’ the Slayer. Goes and gets himself a Happy and turns all evil bastard on us again. Takes Dru from me. Tries to destroy the bloody world. Got lots of reasons to hate the wanker.”
“He’s all depresso boy and his hair sticks up,” she added.
He took a drag from his cigarette. “He’s a Poof, what do ya expect? Pillock’s in love with his hair gel.”
Dawn giggled and uncurled, then she gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry I made you mad.”
“Don’t worry about it, Sweet Bit. You didn’t know any better. And to answer your question, no I did not kill Anne. Anne died of consumption at the tender age of fourteen, leaving me as Mother’s only surviving child,” he answered calmly.
“What happened to her after you… you know… died?”
He looked down sadly, remembering. “It broke her heart. I wanted to see her, let her know I wasn’t really gone, but it was too dangerous. Even then I knew Angelus would kill her if he knew where she was.”
“You protected her.”
He nodded. “Worked with a barrister behind the scenes. Got it arranged for her to go live with her sister in Yorkshire. I was there the night she left on the evening train. She didn’t see me. It was the last time I saw her. She died six years later. We didn’t live long in those days.”
“At least she died safe,” Dawn said, and he turned to see that she’d crawled up next to him and was at his shoulder.
“Suppose so,” he answered, not entirely comfortable with her closeness.
“You know what I think? I think Anne was very lucky to have a brother like you,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “At least she knew you loved her. It’s more than what I have.”
His head whipped around to her. “What do you mean?”
Dawn swallowed. “Remember when I asked you if I was real? When I told you that two crazy guys said I wasn’t really here?”
He creased his brow and nodded.
“Well, it happened again, only this time it was Mom who said it. She called me a thing. Told me to get away from her.”
“When was this?”
“When she was in the hospital, and the night she came home and that icky space bug attacked us.”
“Oh, Bit, she wasn’t in her right mind. You can’t take anything she said seriously,” he comforted.
Dawn shook her head. “There’s more. Giles, Mom and Buffy, they talk about me when they think I can’t hear. There’s something going on that they don’t want me to know about. I think it has something to do with that demon Glory, the one who came to the house today.”
“Glory came to your house?” he blurted. He’d never known the exact reason why Buffy had brought Joyce and Dawn to him that afternoon. Now he knew and he was shocked by Buffy’s show of faith.
She nodded. “Yeah. She was in the living room. She threatened Buffy. That’s when Buffy brought Mom and me here.”
“Big Sis’s puttin’ a lot of faith in one vamp.”
Dawn shrugged. “She knew we’d be safe here. Glory doesn’t know about you, and she’d never think that Buffy would take us to a vampire for protection.”
Spike considered that and had to agree.
“Glory’s looking for a key. She thinks Buffy has it. She wanted to know if I knew where it was. Do you know what Glory is looking for, Spike?”
He knew he couldn’t lie but he also couldn’t tell her the truth, so he hedged instead. “Got an inkling, but I’m not exactly part of the Scoobie inner sanctum. They don’t really keep me in the loop. I know it’s important, and that Glory can’t ever get her hands on it.”
“But what does that have to do with me?” she asked earnestly, and the look on her face nearly broke his heart.
“I’m sure that whatever it is, they’re just tryin’ to keep you safe,” he told her honestly, then motioned to the forgotten cards. “Now come on. It’s your turn to draw. Gotta win back my Chex Mix, ya know.”
Dawn gave him a little smile and moved to pick up her hand. He picked up his and looked at them, reminding himself of the hand he had been drawn, but his mind was elsewhere. Her words bothered him because he knew that she was figuring out things for herself, and he remembered how well her discovery that *she* was the Key had gone last time. Rearranging his hand into a more logical pattern, he added convincing Giles to tell Dawn she was the Key to his list of Things-To-Do.
‘Pillocks better tell her before she finds out about it herself,’ he thought, taking a card from the pile and discarding another.
Dawn snatched it up with a triumphant grin and slapped down her cards. “Gin!”
He sighed and rolled his eyes as she took her winnings.
‘Bint better get back here ‘fore little sis cleans me out of Chex Mix.’
******
Spike considered Buffy’s birthday present to be a significant improvement over the battered box of chocolates he’d thought to give her the last time. No, this time he was going for something more… appropriate. This time he was giving her a genuine Gruth’lak battle axe, newly cleaned and sharpened, and carefully selected from his own personal arsenal. Considering that he had lopped off the head of the Gruth’lak himself with the axe, he doubted the demon would miss it.
He hefted the axe and gave it an appraising once-over, smiling and hoping it would be well received.
‘Nothin’ says ‘I love you’ to a Slayer more than a well made and razor sharp weapon,’ he mused to himself. He only hoped the red bow he’d tied around the handle wasn’t too chintzy.
He stopped outside the Summers’ house, hearing the party merriment from inside and smiling when he heard Buffy laugh. He wasn’t going in right away, however. He had a wayward little sister to herd back into the house before she scampered off to the Magic Box.
‘And there’s my little escapee as we speak,’ he thought as Dawn’s figure appeared. Suppressing a chuckle, he placed himself in her path so that she’d bump right into him.
“Boo.”
She yiped and whirled around.
“‘lo Nibblet,” he said with a smirk.
“Geeze! Lurk much?” she demanded, trying to salvage her wounded pride.
He lit a cigarette to keep from laughing. “Wasn’t lurkin’. I was standin’ about. It’s a whole different vibe.”
Dawn spotted the axe and gave him an incredulous look. “What is…? Are you giving Buffy a *birthday present*? Oh my god, weird! Plus, an axe? With a bow? Lame! And you know she’d never touch anything from you anyway.”
Spike snorted, amused by her crossed arms and haughty teenage snarkiness, but he played along, pretending to be irritated. “Shouldn’t you be tucked away in your beddy-bye, all warm and safe where nothing can eat you?” he growled, looming close and spinning the axe.
She scoffed at him. “Is that supposed to scare me?”
He sniffed, and shrugged, “Little tremble wouldn’t hurt.”
“Sorry, it’s just - come on. *I’m* badder than you,” she replied.
He stepped back and scowled. “Are not.”
“Am too. You’re standing in the bushes holding an axe with a bow on it. I’m…” she announced.
“What? Sneaking off to braid hair and watch the Teletubbies with your mates?” he retorted.
“No. I’m breaking into the magic shop. To steal things,” she replied, a serious look on her face.
“Magic shop, eh? All number of beasties between here and there. Bet they’d really go for a little Red Riding Hood like you.” He looked out at the night, then back to the house. “I bet that wouldn’t set too well with big sister.”
She gave him a look full of false bravado. “I can take care of myself.”
He pursed his lips and shook his head. “I don’t think so, Sweet Bit. I let you go, you get hurt, and Big Sis hands me my dust in my own personalized urn.”
Dawn crossed her arms and set her jaw stubbornly. “You can’t stop me. You’ve got a chip.”
He shook his head and tutted. “Ah, ah, Bit. If I don’t intend to hurt you, I can to stop you.”
“What are you gonna do? Drag me back by my hair?” she snarked.
“Nah, I save the hair draggin’ for special occasions. I’d just sling you over one shoulder and carry you back in like a sack of potatoes,” he responded with a smirk.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” she said. “Besides, you’d have to catch me first.”
Dawn dashed off, running down the street. Spike took a moment to count to ten and ask for forbearance, then took off after her, leaving the axe behind. She’d barely made it to the end of the neighbor’s yard before he overtook her. She slammed right into him as he grabbed her and picked her up.
“Vampire speed, Bit.”
She struggled and kicked out with her feet, trying to twist out of his grasp. “Put me down!”
“Not until you’re back in your living room, Bit,” he said, walking back to the house.
“Ow! Ow! You’re hurting me!”
Not sure if she was telling the truth, he set her down. Since he wasn’t intending to hurt her, the chip wasn’t going off, but sometimes he didn’t know his own strength and he could be holding her too hard. Spinning her around, he kept a grip on her upper arms and made her look at him. She was sullen and angry, refusing to meet his gaze.
“Let go of me,” she demanded, trying to shrug off his hold.
“Not until you’re safe in the house.”
“I’m not safe in there!” she yelled, tears brimming in her eyes. “They talk about me in whispers and get quiet when they think I can hear. Everyone’s acting all weird around me…” She gave him a furious glare. “Even you. You know, don’t you? You know what’s going on.”
Caught, he squirmed uncomfortably. “Now, Bit. I know for a fact that they’re only trying to protect you.”
How was he to know that it was the very worst thing he could say?
Dawn flew into a rage, her anger giving her strength. “I’m not a baby! I can take care of myself!”
She ducked and he twisted, then she brought up her foot and kicked him in the groin. He gasped and doubled over, then fell to the ground as something smashed into the back of his head with brutal force. He had enough time to realize that she’d hit him with Buffy’s birthday present before he blacked out.
“Spike,” a voice came, slightly irritated, and followed by a jostling of his prone body.
He groaned.
“Spike,” the voice said again, this time punctuated by a light kick.
He groaned again and opened his eyes to see Buffy and Willow looking down at him.
“Hi. Nice to see you could join us. Now tell me what you’re doing passed out outside my back door?” Buffy asked.
Memory came flooding back to him, along with a splitting headache, and he sat up too quickly.
“Dawn,” he managed to get out before the wave of dizziness hit him.
“What about her?”
“She was sneaking off. I tried to stop her,” he said, feeling the lump on the back of his head. “Bloody Hell that hurts.”
Buffy gave Willow a look and the witch hurried into the house.
“You’re telling me my little sister knocked you out?”
“Well, it’s not like I can do anything to her. Still have the chip, y’know, and the bloody bint kicked me in the balls.”
Buffy laughed until Willow came running back.
“Buffy, she’s gone.”
The others joined them.
“Buffy, what’s wrong?” Joyce asked, worried.
“Dawn’s gone.”
“Gone? Where?” Giles demanded.
“Magic Box,” Spike replied, rising slowly to his feet.
“Magic Box? Why on earth would she go there?” Giles asked.
Spike cracked his neck and worked his jaw. “Said she was goin’ there to steal things.”
“Steal things?” Anya cried. “The money! She’s after the money! We have to stop her! Xander! Quick, get the car!”
Spike put up a hand. “Don’t think she’s after money, mates. She said somethin’ about you lot talkin’ about her. I think she’s goin’ there to see if she can figure out what’s goin’ on.”
Buffy turned to Giles. “What of she finds out she’s the Key?”
“Wait a minute? *Dawn* is Glory’s Key?” he blurted, using the opportunity to ‘find out’ about the Key.
Buffy gave him a frightened look. “How did you know about the Key?”
“Dawn told me that Glory bint was lookin’ for her key. Are you tellin’ me that Dawn is what she’s lookin’ for?”
He locked eyes with Giles, looking for backup. The Watcher looked away and cleaned his glasses.
“I’m afraid that is the case,” Giles confirmed, giving Spike a knowing glance.
“Bloody Hell.”
“We have to find her. Mom, you stay here. I’m going to the Magic Box. Hopefully she’ll still be there,” Buffy ordered.
“We’ll go with you. We have to check on the money,” Anya said.
It was tacitly agreed that Willow and Tara would stay with Joyce while Xander, Anya, and Buffy went to the Magic Box in Xander’s car. Spike bullied his way into going along with Giles, and the older man agreed without too much protest. He was grateful for the Watcher’s show of confidence. He hadn’t seen Giles since the incident at the Bronze, and was glad that the man appeared to have decided to keep his secrets and help him.
They arrived at the Magic Box to find the door smashed open. The axe that had severed it was still stuck in the door, a crumpled red bow hanging forlornly from the handle.
“What is this? Where did this come from?” Buffy demanded, yanking the axe from the door and looking at it.
“Um, she took it from me,” Spike admitted.
She gave him an incredulous look. “You were bringing an axe to my house?”
He looked guilty. “Actually… I…”
Buffy looked at the bow, the axe and then at Spike, putting two and two together.
“You were giving me an axe? For my birthday?”
He looked offended. “What? You don’t like it?”
Buffy gave the axe a look. “It’s… it’s…”
“It’s a Gruth’lak battle axe,” Giles said, coming forward to examine the weapon. “Spike, where did you get this?”
He smirked and puffed up with pride. “From a Gruth’lak. Where else?”
“You killed a Gruth’lak demon?”
His smile widened. “With his own axe.” He shrugged. “Blighter was butter-fingers and dropped it. Suppose it could have had somethin’ ta do with my cuttin’ off his hand, but…”
“Guys! Enough with the Weapons 101,” Xander interrupted. “Dawn? Remember?”
“And the money!” Anya added, lest they forget.
Birthday present forgotten, they headed into the store to find that Dawn was not there. Spreading out, they searched to find any clues as to her whereabouts. Spike made a circuitous route around the sales floor until he came to the place where he and Dawn had read the Watcher’s diary before.
“Oi! Over here,” he said, calling them over to the place where Dawn had lit candles in order to allow her to read Giles’ writing.
Giles swore softly upon seeing the open diary. “Damn. She knows.”
Buffy looked stricken. “Giles…”
“Okay, where would Dawn go if she was upset?” Xander asked.
Buffy shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“We should organize a search…” Giles said.
The phone rang and Buffy leaped to get it.
“Hello?” she said into the receiver. “Hi, Wills. Dawn? She’s there.”
They gave a collective sigh of relief.
“Oh thank god. She what? How is she? Okay. We’ll be there soon. Yeah, the Magic Box is okay, except for the one door. She smashed it in with an axe she took from Spike. Don’t ask. Okay. Keep her there. Bye.”
She turned to face the rest of the group, her eyes concerned and relieved. “That was Willow. Dawn came home. She’s safe, but she cut herself with a kitchen knife. She’s okay. Willow, Tara and Mom are with her.”
“Oh dear, is she okay?” Anya asked.
“She’s fine. Willow says that it wasn’t bad, but Dawn’s pretty traumatized. I need to get back there as soon as I can. Xander, can you give me a ride?”
“Sure Buff, let’s go,” Xander agreed, finishing his car keys out of his pocket.
“I’ll stay here and shore up the door she… smashed with the axe,” Giles said.
They all looked at the axe, lying forgotten on the reading table. The bow was still clinging valiantly to the handle, although squashed and unraveling. Spike gave it a dejected glance and pursed his lips, but said nothing. Buffy looked from the weapon to the vampire, back to the weapon, and then to Giles. The Watcher cleared his throat and gave Buffy a small nod.
“It is a fine weapon, and you’re not likely to find one like it very soon. Gruth’lak demons are excellent metalsmiths, and they prize their weapons. This battleaxe appears very well made, and it is given in good faith,” Giles told her haltingly, casting Spike nervous glances.
Buffy pursed her lips and reached for the axe. She picked it up, feeling its weight, and examined the blade. She even made an attempt to fix the poor, battered bow. Spike watched her do this with an expression of mild surprise and pleasure. Giving the axe a test swing, she twirled it in her fingers and turned to him.
“Thanks Spike.”
“You’re welcome, Slayer,” he answered with a nod. “Happy birthday.”
She gave him a small smile. Xander and Anya gave him confused and wary looks, but neither said anything as Buffy hurried out the door. Xander and Anya followed her out, leaving Spike alone with Giles. The two eyed each other with grudging respect.
“Thanks for backin’ me up, Watcher.”
“Yes, well, I have done a lot of thinking these past few days since our encounter in the bar, and I have come to the conclusion that I must trust in fate and put my faith in believing that there is a higher purpose to all of this, and that everything will turn out for the best,” Giles responded nervously.
Spike snorted. “Yeah? Well, you’ll have to have enough faith for both of us, Watcher. ‘Cause I still think this all a bloody joke, and the soddin’ Powers That Be have a rotten, twisted sense of humor.”
Turning away, he moved to the broken door. Giles followed and they secured the battered door as best they could in silence.
*******