AN: Thanks so much to Megan for betaing this chapter! Despite many life complications on the side *grin*

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part four - breaking it down

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“Damn you, die, you overgrown wastebasket!"

He couldn't for the life of him remember if these demons were normally so hard to knock down! Spike had been brawling with this massive sack of stupid for about a half hour now, and not only was the fighting not going anywhere, but the smell was definitely getting worse.

D'Ajennay demons had never been particularly bright, which was why Spike had been almost elated when he’d found the moron making an attempt to create a teenager goodie-bag out of two little chits stupid enough to walk home alone that night. Spike had barreled down the street and attacked the bastard, shouting at the girls to run home before he’d dragged the D'Ajennay to Weatherly Park. The problem with D'Ajennays, though, was that they sort of had a caveman complex -- basically, although they were stupid and mostly mute, if they were threatened, they attacked and/or killed first, and asked -- or rather, shrieked -- questions later.

And despite their bulk, they fought extremely well, using their nauseating smell to their advantage. The D'Ajennay was around seven feet high, well taller than Spike by about two human heads, and its skin was a pale, sickly yellow. Pustules covered the arms, and shag-carpet hair covered the parts of the arms that weren’t covered with the pustules. The eyes, however, were the most disturbing, since they were the most beautiful feature on the ugly beast -- sparkling ruby with glints of sapphire and silver. The nose was long and hooked, drooping slightly over the mouth, which was filled with four rows of gnarled, stubby teeth. And if someone had been standing in the middle of a city dump, surrounded by all the nastiness of soiled diapers and month-old lunch meats, the D'Ajennay still would have smelled worse. Spike was convinced that the bloody bastard had purposely gotten in his path, just for the fun of nauseating him.

So far, this was not turning out to be a fun fight.

Fortunately, this guy really was descended from a long line of stupid demon cavemen. He let out a high-pitched squeal, which—due to his being mute was the only sound he could actually make—then swung a big, hairy fist at an exceedingly slow speed toward Spike’s head. Spike ducked down low, then darted behind the behemoth before running and vaulting over him. The blond vampire grasped the creature's head between his calves and flipped it over onto his back before landing nimbly on his feet.

Finally getting the dodgy wanker down for once, he stalked over and snatched up a battle axe that had been thrown about two feet away since the beginning of the encounter. Hoisting it over his head, he swung down and embedded the sharp, steel blade directly into the demon’s solar plexus. It let out another high-pitched squeal, flailing about frantically until all at once, it stiffened and flopped back onto the ground. The body began melting into a pile of green goo and Spike, with an alarmed grimace on his face, quickly began backing away from the toxic-like substance.

Shuddering, he turned around and stalked out of the park.

Turning off of Embly Road, he had barely gone two blocks when he saw the towering figure of the brand new Sunnydale High School. He gave a soft snort and shook his head. When the hell were these damn people going to learn that if bad things happened in the spot where the original building stood, then bad things would happen where the new one stood as well? At least now he knew what Dawn had been ranting about. All of her whinging and bitching -- he'd thought there had been something horrible going down. Of course, in Dawn's world view, everything horrible was usually related more to high school than anything else. He shouldn't have been surprised.

Nothing much had changed about Sunnydale High. It had a sleeker, more commanding, yet welcoming build. It also had a colossal campus outside of the main building where the students could mill around during their lunch hours or their breaks from class. All in all, though, it was only subtle changes. The contractors—Harris and his Manly-Man Brigade, no doubt—had clearly attempted to keep the design as close as they could to the original... before Buffy had blown it up.

He sighed and shook his head again. This town was completely asinine. How could they have rebuilt the high school right over the exact location of the Hellmouth all over again? Spike came to the conclusion that the lot of them were all dunderheads, and they were just asking for trouble. Sunnydale High School's land was like a cursed burial ground. Spike just couldn't shake the notion that Dawn was going to be involved in some deep stuff throughout her duration at this place.

Of course, Dawn was an extremely intelligent little girl. With her smarts and Buffy’s strength, plus the rest of the cavalry trotting along, maybe they would actually be able to keep the Hellmouth completely under control for once.

He grumbled under his breath and stalked back home. And him, as well. Dawn wouldn't easily be letting him off the hook, just because he was no longer of the evil persuasion.

---

Is it wrong for me to feel giddy? Cuz I am. Giddy, I mean, Dawn asked herself as she moved through the kitchen and over to the refrigerator, popping the door open to get herself an orange juice.

Spike was back! And she still couldn’t completely believe it. The night she’d dropped in to see Clem had been so surreal. And she was still reeling from Spike’s news.

And, God, he was souled now... He hadn't been able to tell her all of the details, claiming that some of them were a little too graphic for her still slightly innocent mind, but the question still galled her. Had he gone to get it purposely, or had someone tricked him into getting it? Either way, he had a soul now, and Buffy would never be able to use her regular, tired, stupid old ‘soulless demon’ excuse ever again. Because according to Spike, the soul was permanent, not a curse. He was stuck with it.

She still wasn’t entirely sure how to feel toward him. She had missed him -- there was no doubt about that, she wouldn’t have cried so hard for so long after he’d left if she hadn’t. But she was still angry at him for what he’d attempted to do to Buffy. If she had to choose sides, she was on Buffy’s, all the way. The Slayer was her sister -- her blood kin.

But Spike was... he was Spike. He was the closet nerd -- the one she’d discovered he was when she’d nicked one of his old journals (she wasn’t ever going to tell him that she knew about that because he would probably kill her for it, soul or no soul). This was the same Spike that had nearly gotten himself killed by a god to keep Dawn’s identity a secret, and had protected her time and time again when the teenager’s life had been threatened. The same Spike that had become nervous and embarrassed and bumbling whenever Dawn had mentioned any gooshy feelings that she had harbored for the vampire before she’d realized how head over heels he was for her sister.

He was the very same Spike that she’d had that never-to-be-requited crush on. Her extra fangy, ridgy-foreheaded, way too over-protective older brother. He'd been the one to stay up at night and watch The Simpsons with her, no matter how stupid he’d thought the show was.

Most importantly, he had been the one to comfort her when the pain of losing Buffy had become unbearable.

So naturally, she couldn’t be too mad at him.

Uh-oh. Buffy was giving her a Scruncher. It had jokingly become one of those capitalized things early on in the summer, when she and Buffy had started talking like normal sisters did, and Buffy couldn’t make heads or tails of half of what Dawn said. Dawn had giddily captured the word and used it often when Buffy made the face that accompanied her confusion -- a scrunched up nose and squinted eyes.

Although this time, Dawn hadn't said anything nonsensical, so the only reason Buffy would be giving her that look was if she was trying to read Dawn's mind and was getting turned around with what she saw.

“What?” Dawn asked.

Buffy wrinkled her nose. “Are you okay? You’ve got one of your loopy looks again. What did they serve you for lunch?"

Dawn scowled at the fridge. “I packed today."

Buffy’s eyes widened at the same time that her brows furrowed, and the result was one very alarmed-looking Slayer. “What the hell do we have in the fridge?” she asked, jumping out of her chair at the kitchen island to check.

Dawn rolled her eyes -- honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that Buffy’s roots were showing, Dawn would think that her sister was a natural blonde. Either that, or the bleach had seeped into her brain.

“Buffy, there was nothing wrong with my lunch! Jeez, I’m just feeling extra... tired today. I guess."

Buffy tilted her head, pawing through the fridge for anything that could pass as actual food. “Extra tired?” she asked, grabbing the sliced bread, a jar of strawberry jelly and the peanut butter before she kicked the fridge door closed with her foot. She faced Dawn as she set the things down on the counter. “Tired from what? Is it your Chem teacher? If it is, I could have a talk with him. Your Algebra-two teacher’s been pretty lenient after our talk, hasn’t he?"

Dawn grinned, standing up and moving toward the island, snatching a banana from the basket. “Well, Buff, it’s kinda hard not to be lenient when you’re threatened with bodily harm before watching an abnormally strong yet oddly tiny fellow staff member squish your favorite paperweight in her tiny bare hands."

Buffy, her head still lowered, peeked up at Dawn from under her lashes. “He told you about that, huh?" she asked sheepishly.

“I saw the blatant terror in his eyes as he looked at me when I walked into class. It was like a newlywed housewife running smack into Martha Stewart during Über!Mode."

Buffy shuddered. “Ew, Martha Stewart.” She twisted open the peanut butter jar and grabbed two slices of bread, generously slathering them with the paste. “Anya says that she’s evil."

Dawn reached over and grabbed a knife, cutting her banana into slices before getting more bread, and snatching the peanut butter jar away from her sister. “Martha Stewart? Somehow... I'm really not surprised. I always knew there was something creepy about her. She seems way too... peppy during her Halloween shows."

Buffy nodded, grimacing as she spread on the jelly, then slapped the two pieces together, taking out a bite. “Yup. Ahn says she’s all one with the Blackness or something. She lives for the wicked evilness and stuff."

Dawn grinned. “It figures."

After Dawn finished creating her banana-peanut butter-and-strawberry-jelly masterpiece and demolishing it all in one go, she and Buffy moved on to the living room and crashed down in front of the TV. In an unconscious movement, Dawn tossed her feet onto the table, grabbed the remote, and flicked the TV on, changing it quickly to the History Channel, and settling resignedly for History's Mysteries. Buffy nearly choked on her PB&J. The episode was on unholy and mystical beings -- witches, goblins, unicorns, Courtney Love... and vampires.

Dawn couldn’t say what had told her to turn to that particular station. She never watched the History Channel -- she was 16, it was just something that a teenager in California did not do. But something had spoken to her, and while she was aware of Buffy’s reaction to the show, she couldn’t bring herself to change it. Besides, it was funny as hell watching an episode on things that people didn’t think were real, talking like they were experts. Pfft.

Buffy sputtered incoherently as she reached across Dawn for the remote, but the teenager’s hand shot out and grabbed Buffy’s wrist before she could. “Hey!” Dawn protested. “Leave it alone, Buffy! Come on, it’s funny! These people think they actually know all about what goes bump in the night!"

“No!” Buffy whined. “It’s enough that they get in my face all the time whenever I’m patrolling, I don’t wanna watch them on TV!"

“Oh, get a sense of humor, Buffy! Xander would think this was hilarious, and Spike would probably be rolling around on the floor laughing!” Dawn's head jerked up, as she stopped and snapped her mouth shut.

Oops. She did it again.

Buffy was quiet, her jaw hanging slightly open, as she tried to take in yet another one of Dawn's slip-ups.

Her shoulder jerked slightly, as though she were having a muscle spasm, and the Slayer looked down. She took a deep calming breath, then looked at Dawn again. “Dawn, go to your room, please."

Dawn looked at her sister in disbelief. “What?! But all I did was say his name! You’re making me go to my room for that?"

Buffy stood up. “Dawn, you know I’d appreciate not hearing that name anymore, and --"

“Buffy, that’s not fair! All I did was say his name, it’s not like I cursed or something!"

“Dawn!” Buffy spun around and glared at her younger sister. “In this house, that name is a curse! Do not ever say it again, in front of me, to yourself, don’t even write it in your diary!"

Dawn stood up, almost livid. “You’re the one who said we had to open up to each other, Buffy! Like it or not, he’s still a part of our lives, whether he’s here or whether he isn’t! I can practically see your brain oozing with him, you think about him all the time; what, did you think I didn’t notice? I know you’re mad at him, and I know he hurt you, but I also know how much you miss him! I miss him, too, Buffy, no matter how mad I am at him for what he did; he’s still our Spike, and I still miss him and love him!"

The younger Summers broke off, gazing at her sister pleadingly. “Buffy, please. Tell me what I’m missing. Fill me in. Let me know what on earth is going on because at the moment, I am completely clueless! You promised me that we would actually start talking to each other now, and we have been -- but whenever it comes to Spike, you want to run away and hide! Talk to me, please, Buffy!"

Buffy looked away, then sank back down onto the couch. Putting her face in her hands, she leaned forward on her elbows and took a deep breath, then sat back. Dawn sat down next to the Slayer, noticing that Buffy’s eyes were filled with unshed tears.

“I don’t know what you’re going to think of me, Dawn. You know the place I was in last year. I felt like I was trapped, and I couldn’t get past what Willow and Xander did, bringing me back and everything.” Buffy shook her head. “I felt like I couldn’t feel, like part of me, the part that knew how to be happy, and loving, and cheerful, was left behind when they pulled me back. And because I couldn’t feel...” She permitted herself to give Dawn a shamed, sideways glance. “I let myself sleep with Spike. So that maybe I could."

Dawn stared at Buffy blankly. “You... used him,” she stated quietly, lowering her eyes.

Buffy cleared her throat. “Yes,” she whispered. “I used him."

The teenager sat up slightly and let out a deep sigh. “Oh,” she murmured. “Is... that why he did... what he did?"

Buffy bit her lower lip, gazing at the coffee table. “That was... part of it. It was also because I told him that I didn’t love him. He sort of got a little... desperate after that.” Her hand lowered and began unconsciously massaging her own thigh, where Spike's beseeching, pleading hands had bruised her four months ago.

The teenager glanced back up at her. “So this was both your faults. He’s the one who got all pushy, but you’re the one who pushed him to it. And you were trying to pass the whole thing off on him."

The Slayer didn’t look at her sister. “Yeah, I... did."

Dawn stayed silent for another moment, then shook her head, looking up at her sister irately. "Spike didn't rape you like Xander said he did, did he, Buffy?"

Buffy's shoulders slumped and she shook her head. "No. He didn't."

“And you let me think that Xander had the right of it." The teenager stared at her sister like she had never seen the woman before, before scoffing with disgust. "Nice, Buff. Real nice. You’re supposed to be the grown-up, and instead, when you screw around with the man who loves you, and make him go all apeshit on you, you play the evil vampire wild card. Yeah, it was Spike, but he didn’t have a soul. He couldn’t control himself the way you can. So it had to have been something you did that made him do it. You pushed him to the edge like that -- you made him go insane with wanting you to love him."

The Slayer looked up at her sister, her expression manifesting disbelief. “Dawn, wait a minute. I know I screwed up, but Spike is in the wrong here, too. Why are you defending him like this?"

Dawn glared at her. “Because he was there for me when you died. He took care of me, protected me, and he loved me. He didn’t treat me like I had no real knowledge of the world, like I was nothing but Buffy Summers' annoying baby sister. He gave me the facts straight, and he treated me like an adult, which, by the way, I’m becoming, if you would ever take notice."

Buffy opened her mouth to protest at Dawn's scolding, but the younger girl held her hand up to stop her. "I'm not done yet," Dawn snapped. She softened when she saw the flinch her older sister tried to hide, then sighed and shook her head. “Did he ever ask you anything in exchange, Buffy? I mean, I know your relationship was based, like, solely on sex, but was there ever anything else he asked of you? Besides that? I bet that every single time you went to him, he was hoping that you might give him a chance. That you would finally see him, and notice him, and, and maybe, just... love him, like he loved you. Am I right?"

The blonde remained silent for a while. Closing her eyes, she knew that Dawn was right. Huh. Her sister was going to grow up to be Sigmund Freud. The world was a scary place. “He... He never asked for anything. Except for me to give him a chance.” It hurt, admitting it out loud. It meant that she really was the cold-hearted bitch that Spike had seen her for. She had used someone that loved her, chip and soul be damned, and then she’d broken his heart.

Spike had called her on it -- several times, in fact -- but he’d never pushed it when she’d refused to answer. He must’ve realized early on that he wouldn’t get much out of her except for sex, so he forced himself to enjoy her company -- any small bit of her company at all -- instead. Taking what he could get, just for the chance to be near her, even if she did use him as an animated dildo.

It was completely her fault that Spike had attempted to rape her. She’d ruined him, destroyed his heart and mind, until all that she’d left within him was his desperation to be with her and an animal’s need for a mate. They might have actually been able to have something, if it wasn't for her. She’d ruined it all. The thought forced the tears out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

Dawn had remained quiet since Buffy had spoken, staring down at her hands, folded placidly in her lap. After a second, the teenager leaned back against the couch and sighed. Looking over at Buffy, she tilted her head. “What would you do if he came back?"

Her voice sounded longing and pleading. Buffy hated having to dash the girl’s hopes. She stood up and licked her lips, swallowing hard. “He’s not coming back, Dawn. He’s been gone for four months already. And you know the routine. Once they leave, they never want to find their way back."

Dawn insisted on maintaining her Pollyanna attitude. “Spike’s different. What if he does?"

Buffy managed a small little smile. “I know he’s different. And I think I’d be over the moon if he did. But...” She looked down as she headed toward the steps. She stopped at the bottom, looking towards Dawn again, the misery and self-loathing clearly reflected in her eyes. “He’s not coming back, Dawn. They never do."

Dawn watched silently as Buffy made her way up the stairs.

And then she smiled.

---

“I still don’t get it."

Spike rolled his eyes. “What’s not to get?"

Dawn shrugged weakly, giving him a tiny, sheepish grin. “Everything?"

Spike sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Bloody hell, Dawn...” He lifted his head to continue berating her but he stopped short when he saw her big wide eyes and her pouting lower lip.

God damn it all, the girl knew one-too-many of his weaknesses.

"Such as?" he asked instead, resigned to helping the girl with her History homework, whether he wanted to or not.

Dawn sat up, kneeling above her book, her right hand rising to accompany her words. “Okay... like the Puritans. They wanted to separate from the Church of England, 'cos they were all, like, oppressed and stuff, but then they came to America, and started believing all sorts of dumb things. Like... like the whole witch trials spiel? If someone disagreed about someone else being a witch, then the person that disagreed was suddenly accused, because they didn't think the same way the rest did. The Puritans tried to force their own beliefs on everyone else, so really, they weren't any better than the Church! They were doing the same thing - oppressing everyone else!"

Spike stared at her. "And... why is it exactly that you don't understand that? Seems to me you've got a pretty good grasp on it there, Bit."

Dawn shook her head. "If the whole point was to get away from the Church of England, just to turn around and do the exact same thing as them, then what the heck was the whole point of breaking away in the first place?"

Spike chuckled. "The point, pidge, was so they could have their say. They wanted to be in charge. They wanted their own shot at power, yeah? They started thinkin' it was their divine right. Most anybody these days think the same way -- that it's their God-given right to be in charge. Doesn't matter if you believe in God or Buddha or Vishnu. Christians, Muslims, Jews, America, China, England, Russia... Hell, even the soddin' Wankers' Council, demons, vampire's... The damned and the pompous always think they have the right of it, and everyone else is wrong."

He paused for a moment, frowning, then glared down at Dawn. "Stop letting me off on tangents, Platelet."

Dawn giggled. "But you're so entertaining when you do!" She laughed again as Spike shook his head in amusement.

"Sweet'eart, you know I can't help you with all this. You need to know it yourself, so you can have the knowledge. Sayin' you got the info from a vamp who bloody lived it, while being mildly entertainin', wouldn't exactly get you anywhere. Now I want you to keep your grades up, Bit. You don’t have the excuse of a Hellgod being after you anymore, or a just-resurrected sister to help take care of; no more excuses, no more dilly-dallying with your schoolwork."

Dawn nodded dutifully. “You betcha. I’m Study Girl this year."

Spike snorted again, yawning slightly as he looked at her. “Speaking of, Study Girl, where are you actually s’posed to be? Not here, I know that."

He had to give her props. At least she had the decency to look sheepish. “Uh... Janice’s?"

Spike shook his head. “Wrong answer, pet. Try again."

“My room?"

“Do not pass ‘Go,’ do not collect any pity points from me, 'cos you ain’t getting them. Let's give it one more go, shall we?"

“Xander’s?"

Spike looked horrified. “Is that what you’re torturing yourself with these days?!"

Dawn giggled a bit. “Okay... I’m supposed to be at the library. At least, that’s what Buffy thinks."

Spike tilted his head. “An’ what is Buffy going to say when she doesn’t see your pretty little nose buried in the middle of a History book in some dank, rustic-smelling library?"

Dawn frowned. “I don’t know... I’ve gotten away with it before..."

The door of the crypt slammed open from upstairs, and footsteps -- very familiar footsteps to Spike’s ears -- clacked above their heads. “DAWN!” a slightly panicked voice called.

Dawn’s eyes widened. “But not this time,” she whispered.

Spike swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down maniacally with the action.

“Bugger,” he muttered.

Dawn’s sentiments exactly.





To Be Continued...