90 Days

He took the sewers to the Magic Box, entering through the trap door in the basement. He stood at the bottom of the stairs and extended his senses. Three distinct heartbeats. Demon-girl was up there, of course, probably rubbing her hands gleefully over the cash register. Likely the Watcher, as well; not like he had anything to Watch these days. When he wasn't holed up in his flat with his expensive bottles of scotch – the bottles he refused to share with anyone – he could be found at the store, much to Anya's obvious dismay.

He took a deep, unnecessary breath, and headed up the stairs. As he'd thought, Anya and Giles were both in evidence; deep in discussion over the books, from appearances. A lone shopper browsed among the scented candles and love-charms.

"Yes, I see what you're saying, Anya, but this still is my establishment," the Watcher was saying. "I merely wish to review this with you, so that I know I can trust things will run smoothly when I'm no longer here."

"When, exactly, is that going to be?" Anya asked.

He approached the counter where the two faced each other. "Goin' somewhere, Rupes?" he said. They both startled at his sudden presence and he fought the urge to roll his eyes. Definitely spending too much time with the Bit.

Anya eyed him suspiciously. "Do I need to make you turn out your pockets, Spike? Last time you were here, I was mysteriously out of burba weed. It doesn't grow on trees, you know."

"You can pat me down if you like," he said with a leer. The ex-demon blushed and turned back to the ledger spread open in front of her. "Where you off to?" he asked again, looking at the Watcher.

Giles removed his glasses and polished them before speaking. "If you must know, Spike, I am making arrangements to return to England. Things here are... under control, at least for the time being."

"Well, yeah," he said. His tone was derisive; the Watcher's face turned stony. "It's low tide on the Hellmouth. But what happens when the tide turns? Think the 'Bot's going to be any use? Hell, we're hardly keeping up as it is." He wanted to ask about Dawn, what was going to happen to her when yet another person she loved disappeared from her life.

"I'm really not interested in your opinion," Giles replied.

"Yeah, getting that." He pulled out his smokes and lit one up, despite the glares both Anya and Giles gave him. "Just saying, when the next Big Bad hits, we're going to need all the help we can get. The 'Bot's handy for fooling the local demons, but it's not a Slayer. And that's what the Hellmouth needs. You'd think the Council would spring that Faith bird. Or off her, if nothing else, so another Slayer can get all chosen."

Giles gaped at him. "The Council would never..." he paused. "Well, yes, the Council most certainly would do such a thing." He shook his head. "I can't in good conscience suggest killing an innocent..."

He cocked an eyebrow at the Watcher. "Like they haven't thought of it themselves. Or... do they not know about Buffy?"

Giles polished his glasses again. Anything he might have said was interrupted by the customer approaching the counter. At the same time, the bell above the front door jingled as Tara, Willow, and Dawn entered the shop. The three girls were chattering happily to each other.

"Might wanna mention your plans to the Niblet," he said to Giles in a low voice. "Let her get used to the idea instead of just taking off on her, yeah?" He swung away from the counter, heading for the back door and the solitude of the well-shaded alley, where he could smoke in peace and quiet and the complete absence of dirty looks.


***


He smoked his way through half a pack before returning to the Magic Box. The witches were snuggled up together at the table, poring over a pile of old texts and talking excitedly about potions and spells. Giles had retired to his desk and was shuffling through the mess of papers that covered its surface, while Anya watched him with a gimlet eye from behind the cash register.

Dawn was standing in front of the bookcases, one finger trailing across the spines of the books and her head tilted to the side to read the titles. She threw the occasional glance over her shoulder, pausing in her perusal if it seemed anyone was looking her way. He moved to stand next to her.

"Looking for something, Bit?" he asked quietly.

She looked up at him, then around at the others. When she was satisfied that no one was watching her, she inclined her head silently toward the training room. He smothered a grin at her cloak and dagger antics, but followed her.

"What are you up to?" he said, once the door was closed behind them.

She chewed on a ragged thumbnail. "I... Am I still the Key?" she blurted out.

He blinked. "Huh. Hadn't thought about that," he said. "Glory's gone, seems safe enough.”

"Well, what if I am?" Dawn paced around the training room. "What if someone... something else comes after me and wants to, to use me?"

He grabbed her arm as she stalked past him and stopped her in her tracks. "Not gonna let anything happen to you," he said fiercely. "Got it?"

She nodded slowly. "But... I want to know more about it, about what I was. What I am."

"Okay. I get that, Bit." He studied her for a moment. "Talk to the Watcher," he said finally. "Don't go haring through his books all willy-nilly. Take you ages to find what you're looking for. He's bound to know something. Might even be willing to share it with you."

Dawn nodded again. He followed her when she left the training room. The gathered Scoobies looked up at them when they came back into the shop. Giles narrowed his eyes, a hint of Ripper in his mien.

Dawn took a seat with the witches; he stopped next to the Watcher's desk. "Meant what I said before," he said, pitching his voice for Giles' ears only. "'Bout the Hellmouth, and about Dawn."

Red piped up at that moment. "Spike, can you stay with Dawn tonight?" She gave Tara a sickly-sweet lovebird smile. “We want to go out for a while. Not too late,” she assured him.

He silently nodded his consent, and headed for the basement. Feeling particularly spiteful against British shopkeepers, he pocketed the store's entire stock of burba weed, despite being nowhere near to running out of his own supply.


***

Dawn stuck her head out the window. "Hey, Spike," she said softly, then climbed through the window. She dragged her quilt behind her.

"Hiya, Niblet," he said back, just as softly. "Shouldn't you be sleeping? Got school tomorrow, yeah?"

"Can't sleep."

He lit a cigarette as she settled down on the roof next to him, snuggled up tight in her blanket. She leaned her head on his shoulder and they sat silently for a time, listening to the sounds of the night around them.

"I miss her," she said suddenly, and began to cry.

He put an arm around her. "I know," he said. "I do, too. I'd even like it if she were here to pop me in the nose or tell me to shut up."

That made Dawn laugh a little through her tears, which was what he'd wanted. The laughter didn't last long, though, and the tears went on a bit longer.

"I thought it would get easier," she said finally, sniffing a little. She wiped her nose on the corner of her blanket.

He gave her a squeeze and released his hold on her. She sat up, and he reached into his pocket for another cigarette. "Takes time," he said around his smoke. He let his head fall back against the house and squinted up at the sky. The moon was a thin sliver, just barely there, and stars littered the black night.

Was she out there somewhere, watching them?

Dawn turned her eyes upward, too. "What do you think happens after we die?"

"Don't know if I'm the best one to be asking that question," he said. "But, um, well..."



"Your father is gone, William," his mother said. Her eyes were very dark. He'd never seen her cry before, and the sight frightened him.

"Where did he go?" he asked.

She didn't answer him, instead pulling him onto her lap, even though he was a very big boy now, and cradling his head against her chest. She hummed his most favorite song as they rocked back and forth. Later that night, she took him outside and told him to find the brightest star in the sky. "There's your father," she whispered in his ear. "Dancing in the sky with all the angels."



"My... uh, my mother told me, when my father died," he began. Dawn sat up very straight, eyes fixed on his face. "She told me everyone, when they died, became part of the sky. That the stars were the souls of everyone who had ever lived, and that someday I'd have a star of my own."

"Oh," Dawn said quietly. "That's... that's really nice, Spike."

He shrugged. "Bunch of rubbish, you know."

"Yeah, but still." She leaned against him again. "When you died, what happened? Do you remember anything about it?"

He fidgeted a little. "Nah. Think it's different, being turned. Not the same as someone really dying. Just remember Dru biting me, and then waking up in a coffin. Nothing in between." He glanced at her; she looked a little pale, but not scared.

"What happened to your family?" She gave him a sidelong look. "Giles said that the first thing most vampires do is go after their families."

He shook his head. "Can't listen to everything the Watcher says. Some do, I suppose. Angelus did, I know that. Did for his whole village."

"Did you?"

He scrounged for another cigarette before answering her. "Didn't have much family to speak of," he said finally. "Was just me and my mum when I was turned." From the periphery of his vision, he saw her open her mouth. "Leave it, Little Bit," he said sternly. "I never was much like Angel, that's all you need to know."

Dawn nodded and put her head on his shoulder again, wrapping her warm little arms around one of his."Giles is going away, you know," she whispered after a while.

"Told you, did he?"

"You knew?" Her voice went all squeaky, up into dog-whistle territory. He winced. The girl could be hard on vampire hearing when she wanted.

"Overheard him talking about it today. Wasn't holding out on you, Dawn. Wouldn't do that."

“I know you wouldn't,” she said. The confidence in her voice warmed him. “Tell me again, Spike, what you promised Buffy.”

He looked at her, her earnest face and those big eyes he couldn't resist. “Told her I'd protect you,” he said. He waited for her response in what had started to feel like a ritual between them.

“For how long?”

“Till the end of the world.”

Dawn sighed, a happy sound, and wormed a little closer to him. “So you'll never leave me? Even when I'm grown up?”

“Never, Li'l Bit. Not even when you're old and gray and dandling fat grandbabies on your knee.”


TBC