A/N: The title comes from a Eurythmics tune. One lifetime, I’d love to have a go with Annie Lenox’ voice. The woman can sing. The quote arises from controversy surrounding the publication of James Joyce’s masterpiece Ulysses and how it would endanger the mind of young girls. If only they knew. *insert laughter*]

Book One, Chapter 4. Who’s That Girl?

If there is anything I really fear it is the mind of a young girl.
Jane Heap, as quoted in The Strange Necessity, part 1


Two more weeks. Two more weeks and she would have been home free for the whole damn summer. Two damned weeks. Damn. Damn. Damn. It was so not fair.

Sitting in the principal’s office waiting for the lecture she knew was coming, Dawn was mentally kicking herself. This just sucked. She was busted. Skipping math class hadn’t exactly been the smartest thing she’d done lately, but it wasn’t the only thing. At least it’s the only thing I got caught doing. Looking around at the stupid motivational posters on the walls, Dawn absently twirled a finger in her hair. She wondered which one of her guardians was going to get the phone call and hoped it was either Spike or Tara. Of the four constantly watching her, those were the two who wouldn’t give her the endless lectures and pep talks. They would probably understand. Wouldn’t give her as hard a time as the other two. At least she hoped so.

“Dawn Summers, follow me, please.”

Grabbing her books, she made the long walk into the principal’s office.

*~*~*

Distant chimes rang in his head, disturbing his sleep. Spike groaned and rolled over, trying to find a more comfortable spot in the cramped quarters of Dawn’s single bed. It was, as always, a futile quest. At least it was a bed. More than he had come to expect lately. He shifted his weight, easing a kink in his back that owed more to the injuries from last night’s patrol than his position. There it was again, that pounding. Who the hell was knocking on the door at this hour? Opening one eye in an effort to find the clock, Spike realized how late in the day it was. After one. His mind registered the pounding on the door, grumbling about disturbed sleep patterns and what not.

Pulling on his jeans, he bellowed down the stairs, “Hold on. ‘M coming.”

Reluctantly opening the door, a shirtless, disheveled Spike was confronted by a well-dressed, dark haired, fairly attractive woman. She eyed him speculatively, noting his state of undress and his general all around grumpiness. He kept away from the sunlight, stepping back out of the open doorway. “Is this the Summers residence?”

Her voice was even, without an accent. She was about Willow’s height, little on the plump side, but nice curves in any case. Spike eyed her again, noting with interest the briefcase in her hand.

“Yah. Who’re you?” Scratching his bare chest, Spike realized his state of undress. “Um…Yah, lemme get a shirt on.”

He moved toward the living room, finding a relatively clean shirt on the corner of the coffee table where he’d left it the day before, after Dawn had sniveled all over him. His voice came out muffled as he pulled the shirt on. “So, who did you say you were?”

“I’m here from the school.” He looked up quickly at that, motioning her inside the door. No need to worry about this one. Purely human by the scent of her, not to mention the pounding heartbeat. Flashing her an assessing look, Spike motioned her inside to the living room. “What’s this about, then?”

“We’ve noticed a…well, something of a pattern with Dawn over the past couple of weeks. And we know that her mother recently passed away. I understand her older sister has custody of her.”

“Ah, this is great, but who are you?” He sat down in the chair as she continued talking.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Ms. West. I’m the school social worker. Dawn’s teachers have been concerned about her missing class and skipping whole days since her mother died. We thought perhaps it was time for a meeting with her guardian.”

Spike just stared at her, unsure of what to do or say. The insane thought we’d all like a meeting with her guardian circled round his head, but he said nothing. He had no idea if this was routine or not. His only experience with formalized education had been well over a century ago, and he sincerely doubted any of his headmasters or prefects had engaged in meetings like this with parents. More likely, they’d have just caned the miscreant and had done with it. He couldn’t get up and call Giles; that would entail leaving this woman alone, able to snoop at will. No, better he get rid of her as quickly as possible and deal with Dawn later.

He had no clue she was skipping school. It was not a good thing. Education was important, and she wasn’t helping things by skipping out of classes. They’d all agreed, as a group, keeping quiet about Buffy being gone was the smart thing to do, especially if they wanted to keep Dawn close. Otherwise, if the authorities found out, Dawn would be shipped off to a home, and none of them would be likely to have any right to visit. And Dawn was supposed to go to school and try to stay out of trouble, keep under the radar.

“Buffy’s not here right now.” Damn how that hurt to say. Thank God they put the bot in a locked closet in the basement. He didn’t think he could explain some of the responses they’d been unable to reprogram. Willow had been working on it, but a lot of the phrases were still inappropriate for everyday behavior, and nothing that would help him in this situation.

“She’s at work. Okay, is there a time when I can schedule a visit with her?” The woman wasn’t entirely interested in who he was, she was just too busy making small notations in her paperwork.

“Ah…not sure when would be a good time. I’ll have to have her give you a call so she can suss that out with you.” He couldn’t see what it was she was writing, but she seemed rather intent on it.

“Yes. That would be fine.”

Reaching out her hand, she held out a card to him. Spike looked at her sleepily, then realized what she was doing. “Right then. I’ll just give this to her.”

Quickly, the woman was on her feet again, putting all her paperwork back into her briefcase. He caught her looking at him from the corner of her eye, a slight blush covering her cheeks. Ahh…so the bird isn’t immune. He thought she might be like the Wiccans, because she didn’t even blink, but the telltale sign of interest gave him an edge.

“Well, then. I’ll let Buffy know you were here. I’m sure she’ll want to speak to you.”

He grinned, looking her up and down. She was pretty enough, but not worth either the time or trouble, even if his heart was in it. And it wasn’t. Didn’t matter looking, but anything more required an effort, and not one he was willing to expend, not unless something came up with Dawn that the bot couldn’t handle. Which it might, so the intense looking was good groundwork, but he wouldn’t do more than that. The woman colored further, this time looking him straight on, giving him her own once-over.

Making her way toward the door, she said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

Ushering her out the door, he considered using Spike, but he didn’t think that would help Dawn’s current situation. Spike didn’t sit well with authority-type figures. Deftly he opened the door and willed her to take the steps outside.

“Name’s William.” He didn’t elaborate further. Let her think what she wanted, but her next words threw him for a loop.

“I thought Dawn’s father’s name was listed as Hank.”

He stood there gaping at her, no answer crossing his mind. She was down the steps before he could think of anything to say.

~*~*~

Hours later, he was still somewhat mystified over his encounter with the school social worker. There’d been no indication Dawn was having a problem, no letters home, no phone calls from any of her teachers. Spike had decided first off that he was going to talk to Dawn before he brought this to Giles. The last thing the girl needed was a full-blown lecture from the tweed one. He doubted the girls would be up for the kind of lecture Dawn needed, and forget about the whelp. He would be more of a hindrance than a help. So, it was up to him. He hated doing this to her, hated being the one to put his foot down and make her toe the line, but this was important. Not just for all of the rest of them, but this was Dawn’s future at stake. The last thing he wanted was for her to end up in a foster home. The only good news from that quarter was that she would probably end up staying in Sunnyhell, but if they managed to contact her father, she could end up anywhere. Not that he personally had any problem following her. In fact, he was the only one that probably could leave on a whim. And he would, if that wanker of a father took her away.

He was still lost in his own thoughts when Dawn came in through the back door. It took him a long moment to identify the rustling in the kitchen as her rooting about for a snack, but when he did, he was on his feet and approaching her before he could second-guess himself. “Dawn. How was school today?”

There, give the girl an out. Give her a chance to make good, a chance to come clean. Her head in the refrigerator, back to him, she said, “It was mostly a day. Nothing big going on.”

“Really? Hhmm.” He waited a beat, then, “That’s good then, nothing big.”

Dawn froze in the act of moving around leftovers from last night’s dinner, then slowly backed up. “Yeah, well. Nothing big is good.”

“Good then.” Spike knew his tone of voice signaled his total disbelief. He could spot bullshit a mile off, and this conversation reeked of it. He said nothing more though, just raised a brow at Dawn and tossed her an orange from the counter.

“Ah, Spike, how mad would Giles be if I had to go to summer school?”

“Is this a rhetorical question or one with some basis in reality, pidge?” Spike moved to stand in front of the sink, his arms crossed in front of his chest, watching her carefully.

Dawn looked up at him, a sad look in her eyes. “Spike, I think I screwed up. I’ve been skipping classes, and I got busted today.”

Points for honesty, he thought, and knowing what she’d done was stupid. “Can’t imagine that Rupert will appreciate this, Dawn. You know how he’s been going on about keeping Scooby business away from prying eyes. Wanting to keep quiet about your sis.”

Dawn’s sigh was deep, ending in a quiet sob. “I know. I just couldn’t…I can’t explain it. I just, just…” Spike could take a lot of things, could be impassive at a lot of emotional outbursts, but Dawn’s tears stroked something inside that he’d thought long dead and buried. Compassion. He no more wanted the girl to cry than he wanted a dose of syphilis.

He watched, trying to maintain some distance while the tears started sliding down her cheeks. Part of him knew she was manipulating him and was well aware she knew he was a soft touch where she was concerned. Another part of him knew she really was sorry, but sorry for being caught, not for her actions. “Niblet, you know we’re trying to keep the authorities from takin’ you away. If they find out, you’re good as gone.”


No reason to sugarcoat it or play it nice with her. Someone had to stress it, play the heavy with her, make her understand what could happen, because so far it seemed she wasn’t getting it. “Do you wanna go to a foster home? Or worse, go with your father, far away from the rest of us? That what you want? Foster family might not let any of us near you, ‘specially me. What would you do then?”

Laid out like that, Dawn couldn’t argue with him. She knew there was no way she wanted far away from them, knew she didn’t want to go live with her father – who hadn’t been heard from even after they tried notifying him when Joyce died. They’d not bothered after Buffy, knowing in order to keep her death quiet, they had to pretend. Staying out of trouble, not making any waves in school was all they’d asked Dawn to do. Thing was, he understood why she was acting out, but knowing didn’t make it any better. Rupert was going to have to be told. The school could make life difficult, especially if Dawn continued with her current behavior. Slumping onto one of the stools, Dawn laid her head down on her folded arms.

“I goofed, didn’t I?” Not waiting for a confirmation from Spike, Dawn kept speaking, “dunno why I did it, I just…it seemed like a good idea at the time. I just…what point is there in going?”

He waited her out, knowing she wasn’t finished. “My life sucks. Mom’s dead…Buffy’s dead, and I’m left here all alone. Who cares if I don’t finish school? What is the point anyway? Why…I mean…just why?”

Voice hitching quietly, she continued “it’s just, who is gonna care? What, I mean…it’s just, Spike, what the hell am I gonna do? Who is gonna take care of me…when this is all done? Who?”

Enough was enough. Spike moved over to where Dawn was hunched over, tears streaking down her face, pooling on her hands. “Sssshhhh. Niblet, don’t cry. You know I’ll be here. Forever if you need me, not gonna leave you anytime soon. Made a promise, gotta keep it.”

It was the first time since Buffy’s death he’d spoken about the promise he’d made to her, to look after Dawn. First time he let it slip to the girl in question, anyway. He’d had it out with Giles, just before they buried Buffy, before the LA crew arrived, after the watcher had come to get him while Dawn was hysterical. Spike had laid down the law to Giles, telling him in no uncertain terms that Dawn, and Dawn alone was his priority. He also had told him about his promise to Buffy. Somehow protecting Dawn had extended to doing patrols every night, and he had no idea how that had really started, but the truth was, he needed the physical release patrolling brought him.

Dawn lifted up her head, her big blue eyes full of tears, at his last words. “Spike, you made a promise about me?”

Fuck. He’d not wanted to tell her about it, at least not this way. “Yeah, did that. Made a promise to your sis, to keep you safe.”

“You promised Buffy you would take care of me?”

“Did. Would protect you always. Even without a promise. You’re m’niblet.”

She squeaked, throwing her arms around his torso, holding onto him. “Don’t leave me Spike, please don’t…please.”

“Not goin’ anywhere, gonna stay with you. Even if someone else tries to take you. Gotta protect you.”

His arms came round to hold her close, his hands running through her long brown hair, waiting out her tears.


Book One, Chapter 5. School’s Out for Summer.

Giles stood, arms crossed, watching while Spike paced back and forth across the floor of the training room. “Thing is Rupes, I understand why the girl is doing it. Doesn’t make it right, but she’s feeling lost.”

He whirled about, facing the older man. “Feels like she’s got no one to really care about her, what she does. ‘S wrong, but that’s what she’s feeling. Tried telling her she’s not alone, but…” He shrugged, struggling for the words. This wasn’t easy for him, trying to be compassionate, but he cared for the girl. If he admitted it to himself, he loved her, worried about her like he would have for one of his own blood. Even without the promise he’d made to Buffy, he would have looked out for her. “Doesn’t help that she’s blaming herself for what her sis did.”

Waiting a beat, Spike continued, “She thinks everyone blames her. Feeling lost. Alone.”

There was no visible response beyond the tightening of Giles’ jaw. He couldn’t rightly refute anything the vampire was saying, because he was guilty of feeling that way about the girl. It should not have come down to a choice between them. It should have been clear-cut and simple. Destroy the key. Close the portals. Destroy Glory. Instead, it became a…situation akin to disaster. The key was a young girl, blood and flesh of the Slayer, and how do you destroy something you’ve come to love? Rupert knew it wasn’t within Buffy, even as he’d first suggested it. And even as he’d said it, he knew she wasn’t going to agree to destroy the key, knew he’d hurt her even by suggesting it. Despite the belief it had to be said. Which was why, in the last hours before the battle, instead of turning to him, Buffy had turned to this vampire standing in front of him, made him promise to protect the key, even from himself.

“Spike. I know she blames herself. We’ve all blamed ourselves, including I think, you.” Gesturing over Spike’s words of ‘m not the issue’, Giles continued, “but it wasn’t her fault. Buffy made a decision on her own about how to close the dimensional walls. We cannot second-guess that. It does her memory no service.”

“Right then. Girl’s been skipping classes. Needs to make up for lost time and got to watch her. Can’t have them take her away. Won’t be able to protect her.” Spike lost no time in getting to the heart of the matter. “Niblet trusts me to tell her what’s what. No sugar on it. But she needs to know legalities and what not and what could happen if her good-for-naught father comes back.” He stopped pacing, facing away from the other man.

“Needs to hear from someone else wasn’t her fault.”

“All right, Spike. I’ll sit down and talk to her about it, though I’m not sure she’ll listen to me if she’s already ignoring what you tell her. “

“She listens, just needs to hear from someone else. Not her fault.”

Without another word, Spike stalked out of the training room, voice trailing behind him. “Right then, I’ll leave you to it. ‘M off to kill the nasties.”

Rupert stood there long after he’d gone out, trying to get his thoughts together before speaking to Dawn. He understood the problems the vampire had in dealing with the girl, after all, it wasn’t everyday that a vampire undertook to protect a human child. That this one was not a normal child was immaterial, and he was beginning to believe the vampire wasn’t normal either. Dawn was human and completely unprotected. They had no idea who or what might still be after the girl, what her ultimate purpose was, and how she could trigger her ‘gifts’. He and the others had talked it over, just before and again after they had buried Buffy, what to do. At the time, the last remaining Summers had been too distraught to be included in the conversation, and they’d only just informed her of what she needed to do to stay with them. Perhaps it had been something of a mistake in not including her.

Dawn was home with Willow and Tara. Xander and Anya were elsewhere; no doubt planning the wedding they somehow thought was a secret from him. He would inform the girls of the situation, and hopefully enlist their help with Dawn, but, he realized it was up to him to convey the seriousness of her situation. Spike, much as he hated admitting it, was right. They couldn’t leave the girl to the mercies of the California social services, nor could they allow her father, if he could be located and forced to face responsibility, to remove the girl from their protection.

In for a long night, Giles locked up and made his way toward the house on Revello Drive.

*~*~*

Hours later, Giles was sitting on the couch, a tumbler of 25-year old scotch in hand, waiting for Spike to come back. The talk with Dawn had gone surprisingly well, though he suspected she was more upset with herself for getting caught than she was for the acts that got her in trouble. Oddly enough, she was just as afraid of getting shipped off as the rest of them were. Tara had been horrified at the thought, and Willow had agreed to start tutoring Dawn. He’d laid it out for the girls, coming down especially hard on Dawn. He sat up, waiting for Spike to come home, as they’d begun the ritual of going over his patrols. There was more bad news, news he didn’t relish sharing with any of them, but he no longer had a choice.

Most of the lights were off as he waited, preferring to in the relative darkness. On the table, Giles left the fax he’d received as he was locking the shop doors earlier. Somehow, some way, they had been discovered. He sat, sphinxlike, while Spike quietly clattered in the front door, and made his way around the house, making sure everything was locked up tight. It wasn’t until he made his circuit round the first floor, coming back around to the living room that Spike found Giles.

“Sittin’ drinkin’ by yourself isn’t good mate.” He’d stopped short, dropping the short axe down by his feet, wondering why Rupert was sitting so quietly. Not that he was ever really noisy, but something about his posture was stiffer than usual tonight. “Not go well with Dawn?”

“No, it went as expected. She did need to hear from me.” Giles shifted a bit, easing forward, placing his drink on the table next to the paper. His motion drew Spike’s attention to the paper lying there. “What’s this?”

“Sit down Spike.” Giles managed to refrain from drawing off his glasses, but it was a near thing. He needed something to do with his hands, but instead he waited until Spike sat, then moved the paper across to him without lifting it in his hands.

It was just a short note. Just a small little communiqué. It should not have provoked the reaction Giles was giving it. Spike looked down at it, without reading the words, gauging the watcher’s body language.

“Rupes, what is this?”

“Spike, read it.”

He reluctantly looked down at the paper, suddenly not wanting to even touch it. “Rather you tell me first.”

“Spike. Just read it.” He couldn’t resist any longer. Rupert dragged his glasses off his face, placing them on the table with delicate slowness next to his scotch. His breath was soft in the air, sounding very loud in quiet room. Spike finally picked up the paper, scanned it quickly, drawing in a deep unneeded breath.

“Fucking hell.”

“Rather,” was Giles’ one word response.

“What’re you gonna do?” Spike tossed the paper back down on the table, almost loathe to touch it. “Bloody fucking buggering hell.”

The younger man slumped back on his tailbone, his legs spread wide and hands dropped down between his legs. His expression nearly exactly mirrored the other man’s emotions. Giles waited a moment, knowing he’d had a bit more time to come to terms what the fax said, but also knowing his hands were effectively tied. While he was still a British citizen, he had ‘resident alien’ status with INS, and also was the owner of a thriving business. Truthfully, he no longer worked for the Council full time, but he did owe them allegiance, and not to mention he still did consulting from time to time. But that was just semantics.

“Evidently, the Council has independent sources of information here in Sunnydale.” Both men shifted in their seats, neither one liking the implications of that. Spike looked away, then back at Giles, opening his mouth to speak, then shutting it again.

“‘S’not good, Rupert. Can’t have them spying about.”

“I know. This doesn’t bode well at all.” Giles picked up his scotch, sipping it a bit before he spoke again. “I’m going to have to return, at least for a little while.”

“Hell of a time to leave, Rupert. Girls won’t like this a bit.” Spike somehow knew Giles hadn’t yet said a word to the others, didn’t need the other man’s confirmation of his silence. “How’re we gonna survive without you, even for a little bit?”

While he was flattered, Giles had no illusions about how well they would all survive. The only one that really needed him avoided him at all costs unless forced to deal with him. Dawn was more comfortable with Spike and Tara, listening to the vampire as if he were the parental figure instead of himself, and Tara tried valiantly to fill Joyce’s shoes. “No doubt you will all be fine.”

The loud snort sounded like a gunshot in the quiet. “Doubt that very much. Don’t play games with me, Rupert. Doubt anyone but Dawn listens to me, and you know Harris would just as soon leave me in a puddle of holy water than not.” He shifted forward in his seat, hovering over the loaded missive, “Know the girls might not care to have me here if you’re long gone.”

“I think you’re wrong.” Shaking his head slightly, Rupert moved forward, so that they were nearly nose-to-nose. “I think the girls like having you around. At least they know nothing demonic can get past you. They feel safer with you here. There isn’t much I can do about Xander. I doubt anything will ever change his view. But,” and he waved a hand to dismiss what he’d just said, “that’s not something we can worry over. I’ve at least got to return to file my final diary.”

His voice wavered a bit, and Giles took a moment to compose himself. “I don’t know that I trust you completely, Spike. Don’t know that I ever will.” Lifting his eyes to meet Spike’s look head on, he continued, “But I can’t deny you’ve proven you won’t do anything to hurt the girls. I have to trust that will continue.”

Well. Another admission from the watcher. Spike was certain the Hellmouth was going to open and swallow them all up. Sitting here, this moment, was nothing short of a bloody miracle. That racked up two in the plus column, both courtesy of the other Brit. Who’d have ever thought? Not himself, given the reaction only his presence had gotten right after his revelation to Buffy of his feelings. Looking away from Giles, Spike tried to mask how much this admission meant to him.

“Made a promise. Intend to keep it,” was all he said.

But it was enough. They both knew what it meant.

*~*~*

It took a few days, but Giles managed to break the news of his imminent return to Mother England and the Council to the girls. As expected, Dawn took the news silently, then pitched a fit later on, when it finally sank in that another support was leaving. This time, she didn’t take it out on anyone but the culprit. There’d been a letter home from school, indicating Dawn was required to attend summer school, since she had missed so much time for one reason or another. Despite being warned, and knowing he’d already spoken to her once about this, Giles confronted the teenager again.

He’d caught her just before bedtime, on a night when Willow and Tara were both out, and while Spike was out patrolling. It quickly escalated into a shouting match, something neither one of them had expected. Giles felt he had to impress upon her just how important it was she behave and keep out of sight of officials, especially since he was leaving for an unknown amount of time. Dawn had immediately jumped to into defensive mode, shrieking that he wasn’t her father, he didn’t even like her, and why should she listen to him anyway?

Her voice had ridden higher and higher, until it hurt his ears. She was near hysterics only this time Giles knew exactly what had triggered this. Spike had warned him, knowing the girl would lose her cool during any discussion with Giles. Internally, Rupert cursed the vampire’s insight with one breath and with another he thanked him for it.

“Dawn. Settle down.” He caught her by the shoulders, lightly shaking her. “I’m not staying in England. I’m coming back, I just don’t know when.”

She crumpled. Dawn just slumped forward into his chest, his arms coming round to hold her up. Incoherent words, half sentences and muffled hiccups escaped her, while Giles held her close, trying to soothe her.

That was how Willow found them, Dawn curled up next to Giles, while he explained to her where he was going, why, and who he had to report to. He also told her he was going to try and unearth the identity of their informants, and get some agreement from the Council to remove the surveillance.

Contemplating the two, the redheaded Wiccan prayed that Giles would stay away for a very long time.


Book One, Chapter 6. A Girl in Trouble (Is a Temporary Thing)

It was so much easier for her now. Not that what she was searching for was easy to find, just that she had so much more freedom to search for it. Giles leaving had been a really, really good thing. In fact, she hoped he stayed in England for the rest of the summer. Willow sat up in the restricted book section of the Magic Box, looking for references to underworld gods. She’d been looking, researching for a way around using blood, but so far, nothing seemed to work. There was a pile of grimoires to her left, a note pad perched precariously on her knee, and an enormous book at her right, hieroglyphics scrawled across its cover.

There was no way around it; she was going to have to use the rites from the Egyptian Book of the Dead, with adaptations from other sources. And blood. She was going to have to use blood.

Every ritual came down to one thing, using blood. She was about to tread down a path she once thought never to follow. Willow glanced up as a customer entered the shop, her attention caught by the bell. Stretching out her sore neck muscles, she tried to block out all the misgivings and doubts that kept flooding through her mind. There was no way she could falter. Firmly pushing aside the doubts, she turned her attention back to the books strewn about her.

Preparation was key, and the list of supplies she was going to need was long and esoteric. Nothing on it, except for the garlic and water, were things she could just buy anywhere. Some of the supplies were going to come from the Magic Box, and some she was going to have to search out via the internet. Time and money were her only constraints, especially now since Giles was gone.

That had been a huge weight from her shoulders. Giles’ return to England came at a fortuitous time. He’d been gone nearly three weeks now, and it didn’t look like he was going to be able to return anytime soon. Xander had been sworn to secrecy, though she still hadn’t told him anything of real substance. Dawn and Tara were still distracted with school issues, both girls now mired in summer sessions, and Spike was oblivious to her scheming. Anya had been giving her weird looks every once in a while, but she had been able to divert her attention. So far, everything was falling into place.

She’d ordered some supplies just this morning, using the Magic Box sources, but used her parents’ address. Now it was just a matter of putting the ritual itself together. This was going to be the time consuming part. Everything was going to have to be gone over more than once, and she couldn’t afford to be careless. Buffy was depending on her, even if she didn’t know it.

So far, the Egyptian Book of the Dead was proving her best source, but there were more than a few of the Celtic gods and goddesses that walked in many worlds, and could be called upon during the ritual. She just had to make sure everything was in place. Willow let her mind drift, wondering how long exactly Angel had been lost in the hell dimension Buffy had sent him to, and what had triggered his release.

If she could figure that out, this would be so much easier. Unfortunately, Buffy had not kept any notes, nor had she confided in Willow when that whole situation was going on. She’d tried to go through Buffy’s journal, but Dawn had started keeping the door to Buffy’s room locked while everyone was out. Probably because she doesn’t want anyone to move things around. At least that’s what she hoped it was. She didn’t want to think it might be something else.

The truth, if Willow knew it, might not have made her happy at all.

*~*~*

Spike rolled over, unable to get really comfortable. It wasn’t that the bed was uncomfortable; it was more the extent of his injuries. Lately, patrol had gotten a bit harder, with rumors of the Slayer being gone circulating about, though he’d been doing his best to dispel them. Being in the company of the Buffybot drove him round the bend, but he’d started taking the damned thing out on patrol every night since Rupert had left. So for the last nearly three weeks, he’d gone out with the bot.

Two nights ago, he’d taken a hard blow to his side, breaking a couple of ribs. The cailleach-oidhiche they’d run across had been particularly difficult to kill, since it had both arms and talons. He’d finally managed to sever its head from its neck, but not before the she-bitch had gotten her claws into his right side. The cuts and bruises were mostly gone, but the broken ribs were taking a bit more time to heal.

Groaning into the pillow, Spike shifted his back, stretching the sore muscles. Her scent hit him, making him reel with the loss. When she’d gotten a glimpse of his side, Dawn had insisted on wrapping him up, and then settled him, despite his angry protestations, into Buffy’s room. Arguing that her bed wasn’t going to be comfortable for him, Dawn over-rode his objections, pushing him into the room. She’d made him sleep there for the last two days.

He’d tried telling her it wasn’t right, that he shouldn’t be sleeping in Buffy’s room, but Dawn just shut him up. ‘Buffy would want to keep an eye on you. She’d be worried about your injuries’ was what she’d said to him.

“Not this much, Nib. She’d’ve never let me sleep here. Probably would have put me in the cellar or some such.” Dawn had looked at him with her hip thrust out, and an eyebrow raised. She looked so much like Buffy in that moment, he’d almost laughed.

“No, Spike, she wouldn’t have done that. Not now, not since Glory.”

He kept his mouth shut then, mainly because she had tightened the bandage around his ribs so much that for a moment the pain blinded him, but also because he had a feeling he wouldn’t win that argument. Buffy had been nicer since he’d taken that god-awful beating from the hell skank, and she had trusted him to have her back and to watch over Dawn, so who really knew what was in her head those last few days? He surely didn’t, at least not completely, and he doubted Buffy had told Dawn everything. Spike figured the two girls had talked some, but not enough.

And yet, here he was, sleeping in her bed. He made a promise to himself once his ribs were healed, he was going to set up something in the cellar, so he’d be comfortable in the day and still close enough to hear everything going on over his head. It was hard enough, being in this house all the time, memories swirling around. Confronted daily with the effects of his failure, Spike sank deeper and deeper into depression. He had failed to keep both Summers girls safe. He hadn’t been able to save Dawn, and his failure had caused Dawn to lose Buffy. It was a vicious cycle he was unable to see his way out of, although he tried each day to come up with another way he could have saved both of them.

So far his favorite fantasy was instead of Doc being able to slip behind him and slice open his back he managed to grab the knife and slice Doc then pitch him over the side of the tower. Spike replayed that one over and over. Another one of his favorites was when he managed to grab a hold of Doc as he was sending him over the side and bring Doc tumbling down to the ground with him, crushing the spry demon beneath his broken body.

But nothing he did in his dreams consoled him. Because no matter how many different ways he came up with, no matter what scheme he thought of now, not one did what he most wanted. Nothing he could do would bring Buffy back.

Had he known someone was attempting just that, he might have been even more uncomfortable.

*~*~*

Xander was finding it hard keeping his promise to Willow. For the first time since they’d started dating, he had a secret from Anya, and it was beginning to bother him. He knew Anya could help them, she had so much knowledge, but he also knew Willow didn’t want her to know. What he couldn’t figure out was why she wanted to keep everyone else in the dark. It didn’t make much sense to him, since everyone else was nearly as smart as Willow, and Giles was probably smarter. Xander knew he couldn’t compete with any of them in the smarts department; he had no self delusions in that respect. At best he could do grunt work and he somehow thought this wasn’t exactly going to be needed.

It made no sense, Willow wanting no one else’s help on this. He found himself biting his tongue a lot lately, ever since Willow had told him, especially around Anya. Not that he liked admitting it, in fact he preferred to pretend that his girl was just like everyone else and not over a thousand years old, but Anya knew stuff. Lots of stuff. Stuff he was sure would help Willow.

What he didn’t want to admit was that Willow didn’t want Anya’s help, for more than just her issue with secrecy. He tried to fool himself, thinking it was just Willow being paranoid, but deep down he knew the girls didn’t like each other. Although, he had to admit Anya tried, while Willow didn’t. It was hard to face, but his best friend didn’t like his girlfriend - fiance. And for the life of him, he couldn’t really figure out why.

Which was only one of the things bothering him. Why Willow didn’t like Anya, why Willow wasn’t trusting anyone but him with her plan, and why she wouldn’t ask anyone else for help. It made him feel like someone was always watching over him, like someone was following him. Xander didn’t like this. Something about this whole plan of Willow’s made him feel all…it was like drinking milk that wasn’t good. Every time he thought of it, it made him more and more uneasy.

Xander had not a clue that things were about to get worse.

TBC~