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All Summer Long by Science
 
Chapter 1
 
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12 Days

For the split second before his conscious mind caught up with his body, he thought it was Buffy's scent invading his senses.

Then another candle knocked him upside the head, accompanied by an unholy screech that could only belong to that deadliest of creatures... the teenage girl.

"Get up! Get up! Get up!"

He blinked. Were his ears bleeding?

Dawn stood above him, her face sharp with righteous anger. Her shiny hair positively crackled with rage, and her eyes blazed. She hauled back and launched the last of her missiles; at least to his blurry vision it appeared her - four? - hands were now empty.

He wasn't entirely sure his skull was still in one piece.

He looked blearily around him. He hadn't made it to the bed again, he noted dispassionately. He had, however, made it down the ladder. That was surely an improvement in circumstances, even if that task had obviously been accomplished by falling face first through the trap door. He groaned as he - very gently - prodded at his nose. A blaze of fire shot down his spine as he realigned the abused cartilage. It had been a while since he'd felt this distinct sort of pain.


The Slayer's fist shot out in a flash - no hesitation, no shame. She loved playing 'kick the Spike.'

And he loved letting her.



He shook his head, and regretted it immediately. He glimpsed the nearly empty bottle of rotgut tequila still clutched in his right hand. He had a vague, sick memory of several other bottles prior to this one. That would go a long way toward explaining the headache. And, perhaps, the expression on the Niblet's pretty little face.

"You don't get to do this!" Dawn screamed at him.

He instinctively held his hands in front of his face. "Wha'? Uh, Bit..." He sat up suddenly - too suddenly for his unusually tender stomach - when Dawn collapsed into a boneless pile of tears at his feet.

He hated it when they cried.

His hand fell - helpless, heavy - on her shoulder. She turned into his chest and threw her arms around his waist. He was glad he'd never made it out of his shirt last... morning? - he had no idea where the sun was right now; it had been a long time since he'd been this dangerously inebriated - because Dawn was covering him in snot. His least favorite of all human secretions.

"You promised," he heard Dawn gasp against his chest. His unbeating heart clenched; it actually hurt. He took a deep, superfluous breath.


"I'm counting on you. To protect her." Their eyes met for a penetrating second.

"Till the end of the world," he said solemnly. "Even if that happens to be tonight."

Her trust in his ability to take care of her sister was a sight more than the crumb he craved. And a good deal more than what he deserved, he was well aware.



"Hush, now," he murmured. He went on, susurrations of nonsense filling the air between them. It was only when she was soothed that he noticed the soft, rhythmic circles his hand was rubbing against her back. He stilled its motions and slowly backed away from Dawn by the barest inch.

She snuffled once more, hitched in a breath, and turned her fathomless blue eyes on him. He was a goner before she even opened her mouth.

"You can't do this, Spike," she said. "If you don't stop, they're not going to let you stay with me anymore."

He smoothed her soft hair back from her sweaty forehead as he absorbed that statement. "Not gonna let that happen, Platelet," he said.

"But Willow said..." she choked out on another sob.

He growled quietly, a soft, warning rumble that started deep in his chest. "What'd Red say, Niblet?"

"That... that if all you’re going to do is drink yourself silly, there's no use keeping you around." Dawn wiped her eyes and then - cheeky little bint - rubbed her snotty nose all over his t-shirt. She snuffled against his chest one last time before standing up and planting her fists on her hips. "So you need to get up right now and get over to the house. They're having a Scooby meeting tonight. It's important."

"Have no doubt it is, but I'm no way a Scooby. Din't you get the memo?" He squinted at her; distress was writ large across her face. He sighed. "All right, Li'l Bit, lemme get myself together and I'll be there. What time is it anyway?"

"It's almost six. I can wait for you."

"Huh. Unless you wanna walk home with a vampire flambe, you can just wait for me at the house. I'll be there. I promise."

"We can take the sewers, can't we?"

"No, we can't take the sewers. Never know when some nasty thing's gonna try to take a bite out of you. Now run along." He pushed himself off the cold stone floor and glared at her until she scurried up the ladder. Once he heard the outer crypt door slam closed, he stripped out of his sodden t-shirt and skinned off his jeans. He headed into the tunnel behind his bedroom for a quick wash in his makeshift shower.

Dawn was sitting on his bed when he emerged from the tunnel. He almost dropped the towel slung around his waist. And wouldn't that give Red and the Whelp an excuse to stake him.

"Bloody hell, Dawn!" he roared. "I told you to get gone!" Then his eyes fell on the box she was rifling through. All his pictures of the Slayer, the items of clothing and other mementos he'd collected during his mad obsession. He vamped out before he could stop himself.

Dawn didn't seem to notice either his anger or his next-to-naked state. “Is this…” her voice trailed off as she finally looked up at him. “Oh my gosh, Spike! What happened to you?” She stood up and moved to him, her hands ghosting across his torso.

He jerked away from her. His game face fell away as he stared at her wide, shocked eyes and pale face.

“Who did this?” she asked, tracing the bruises that littered his chest and stomach. One little finger dipped into the gash that ran across his left side.

He winced. “Got into a fight,” he said shortly. He pushed her hands away and rummaged through his dresser for a clean shirt. He knotted the towel firmly at his waist and hurriedly pulled the shirt on. “Now get out of here,” he commanded. He didn’t turn to look at her.

“Spike.” Her voice was firm. Little Bitty Buffy, back in residence. “Have you even been eating? I can see all your ribs.”

“No, you can’t, cuz I’m wearing a shirt. Can’t see anything you’re not supposed to be looking at. I’m serious, Niblet. Get out of here and let me get dressed in peace, or you’re going to see a sight more than you’re ready for.”

She hesitated for a moment before complying with his command. He could hear her heart thumping away in the upper level. He stepped into his jeans and looked around for his boots before remembering that he had taken them off upstairs. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t think it fair that vampires should get headaches. Especially ones caused by tiny little human girls. Wasn’t enough aspirin in the world to take care of that particular pain.

Dawn was poking through his refrigerator when he emerged from the trap door. His duster was draped across the sarcophagus, his boots on the floor beneath it. Dawn turned around as he was lacing up the first boot.

“You don’t have any blood, Spike,” she said accusingly. “When was the last time you ate something?”

He ignored her and stepped into the other boot.

“I’ll stop at the butcher’s on the way home,” she said. “See you at the house. The meeting starts at seven thirty. Try not to be late.”

He growled angrily, but only once the door had swung closed behind her.

***

He emerged from the sewer on Revello Drive and ran for the back door, his tattered blanket shielding him from the last rays of sunshine. The kitchen was empty except for the enticing aroma of hot blood. His eyes were drawn to the mug sitting on the counter. A note propped up in front of it read “Drink Me” in Dawn’s bubbly handwriting. He shook his head, but reached for the mug. His stomach growled as he downed the spicy liquid. He’d have to thank the Niblet for the addition of burba weed.

He could hear voices and heartbeats coming from the living room. He rinsed the mug and left it in the sink before sauntering down the hallway to join the meeting.

He stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes fell on… Buffy? If his heart could beat, the sight of her would have made it stop dead. Then she turned her bright eyes and brighter smile on him.

“Look, it’s Spike!” she exclaimed cheerfully. “Spike’s here!”

“No,” he said. “No sodding way!” He scanned the faces of the Scoobies. None of them would meet his eyes. Dawn stood next to the ‘Bot, biting her lip and twirling a long strand of hair around one finger. “Bugger this!” he growled. He turned and stormed back to the kitchen, retrieving his blanket from its resting spot next to the door.

“Spike, wait!” he heard Dawn call from behind him.

He kept going. The sun was just sinking below the horizon, so he vaulted over the fence rather than heading for the sewers.

“Spike, please stop!” Dawn’s voice was thick with tears as she raced to catch up with him.

He skidded to a halt and spun to face her. “That’s what the important Scooby meeting was about, is it? Why wouldn’t you… how could you just let me…”

“No, I didn’t know, Spike, I swear. Willow fixed her and, and she brought her to the house tonight. I didn’t know she was going to do that.” Dawn threw herself at him, and his arms went around her. “Please come back and talk to them. If you don’t…”

“Yeah? What happens if I don’t go along with this? I’m not gonna… that thing is…”


“The robot was gross and obscene.” The Slayer stared at him, her disgust almost a palpable thing.

The sense of shame that filled him was overwhelming; for the first time since becoming a vampire, he felt truly guilty for something he had done.



“You don’t understand, Dawn,” he said quietly. “I can’t look at… at that thing.”

She laid a gentle hand on his arm. “I understand, Spike,” she said.

He looked down at her and nodded. “Yeah, guess you would, Bit.” He walked with her back to the house.

 
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