full 3/4 1/2   skin light dark       
 
 
Chapter 14
 
<<     >>
 
The first thing Dawn saw when she came home from school was Giles asleep and snoring softly on the sofa. He looked sweaty and tired.
 
“Spike?” she called out. “Why is Giles passed out in the living room? Did you break him?”
 
Spike laughed, coming into the hallway from the kitchen. “Not me. Was a Mr Glenfiddich.”
 
“Who?” Dawn asked.
 
“Whiskey, pet.” Spike grabbed Dawn’s hand and spun her into his chest for a hug, then spun her out again along the hallway, back towards the kitchen. “Don’ think the jet lag is helpin’, though. It’s gone 11, UK time.”
 
“Are you drunk?” Dawn’s eyes narrowed as Spike moved past her into the kitchen.
 
“’Course not!” Spike stopped in the doorway and turned to Dawn, eyes wide, the picture of innocence. “’M still vertical, aren’t I?” Then he winked.
 
“You are so totally drunk,” Dawn said, shoving him through the door and laughing when he stumbled.
 
“Jus’ happy, ‘s all.” Spike grinned, leaning back against the breakfast bar.
 
------------------------------------------
 
Buffy felt lighter walking home from the Magic Box. Anya was going to help her with money stuff. Giles was back. Xander was going to fix the house. Spike was taking care of Dawn. Willow and Tara … Willow.
 
The enormity of what had happened to her hit back full force. They ripped me out. I was in heaven and they brought me back to fight demons and pay the bills. Pain and loss battled with anger.
 
And duty.
 
Because no matter how angry she was, she wouldn’t let herself hurt them. And if they knew what they’d really done, they would be very, very hurt. So all she had to do was just not tell them anything. Hide her problems as best she could, and keep all her darker thoughts to herself. So simple.
 
By the time Buffy reached Revello Drive, she had buried the happier, supported, Buffy along with her rage and grief. She was exhausted.
 
The kitchen windows were open beneath their blackout blinds, and Buffy could hear voices. Feeling too drained to face conversation, she slumped on the porch outside the kitchen door, trying to soak up the warmth from the late afternoon sunlight, and waited for the voices to stop.
 
------------------------------------------
 
“So … why were you getting drunk with Giles?” Dawn asked, sitting down next to him. “He’s not going to make you leave, is he?” she added, slightly panicky.
 
“No, pet. Not goin’ anywhere.”
 
“Promise?”
 
“Promise. We had a good long chat. Came to an understanding.”
 
“Good.” Dawn visibly relaxed. “Where’s Buffy?”
 
“Dunno. When I got up, was only us here.”
 
Dawn’s face fell. “I thought she would be here when I got home. I thought she would want to see me.”
 
“Niblet,” Spike said gently. “Jus’ because she was asleep when you left for school, an’ she’s not back the second you get home doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to see you.”
 
“How do you know that?”
 
“Because she’s Buffy.”
 
Dawn gave him a withering look. “That’s not a real answer.”
 
“You’re the most important thing in the world to her. She’d have to be on fire or somethin’ not to want to spend time with you.”
 
Dawn hadn’t yet considered that something might have happened to Buffy. “But she … she’s okay, right?” Dawn scooted her chair closer and leaned into Spike’s shoulder. “I … I only just got her back.”
 
“’S daylight,” Spike said, ruffling Dawn’s hair. “Your sis can take out anythin’ human with both hands tied behind her back.”
 
“But that posses-y thing happened in daylight. Isn’t it trying to kill her?”
 
“Dead, pet. Went poof last night.”
 
“Then why isn’t she here?” Dawn whined.
 
“She might’ve wanted some exercise. Or gone to get a new telly. Lots of reasons for her to leave the house. Not everythin’ revolves around you.”
 
Dawn scowled. “The only time we’ve been alone since she came back, she tried to kill me! I think I’m justified in thinking she’d want to, you know, talk or something.”
 
Now Spike returned the withering look. “Yeah, ‘cause she’s always been good at awkward conversations like that. Your sis is still the same person she was – flaws an’ all.”
 
“I wish she’d just yell at me.”
 
“Why would she do that, Sweet?”
 
“I know everything’s okay if she’s yelling at me. With mom, and then Glory, she was so nice all the time. It was kind of scary. Now she’s just silent, and that’s scarier.”
 
“’M sure she’ll go back to yelling at you soon enough. She needs time.”
 
“Time for what? Is this … is it because of what Willow said? About Buffy being in a hell dimension? But she’s not like Angel was when he came back. She … she stopped being all weird and feral really quickly.”
 
Spike started pacing. “She’s….” How the hell do I say this without saying it? “’S like she’s grievin’.”
 
“Grieving for what? She’s the one who died!”
 
Pro’ly not like that, then. Git. “Look, you ‘member those times you needed to just sit quietly? Any noise hurt, an’ anyone talkin’ made you crazy?”
 
Dawn nodded.
 
So did Buffy, listening outside.
 
“Right now, it’s hard for her jus’ to be breathin’ the same air as other people, no matter who they are or how much she loves them.”
 
Buffy could feel tears rolling down her cheeks.
 
Dawn was quiet for a moment. Spike could hear her heartbeat speeding up. “I always knew she did it for me – to save my life – even when I was hating her for leaving.”
 
“She loves you.”
 
“But she shouldn’t have done it. I’m not even two years old! It should have been me who died. I should’ve stopped her, somehow. Whatever’s wrong with her now, it’s all my fault!” Dawn was becoming steadily more worked up, fast approaching hysteria.
 
“Oh my Sweet Bit,” Spike said, moving to wrap his arms around Dawn, trying to calm her.
 
“Buffy was in hell and, and it’s … it’s like I put her there! How can she even look at me?”
 
“She loves you!” Spike said. “Everything Buffy did that night, she was happy to do it because she wanted you to live!” Spike’s voice dropped. “You need to stop punishing yourself like this.”
 
“But she’s punishing me now! Buffy tried to kill me! Why would she do that if she didn’t really blame me? And if she wanted to see me, she’d be here!” Dawn was now shrieking, so shrill it hurt, and she was vibrating with stress and upset.
 
“Dawn!” Spike said, pulling away to put his hands on either side of her face and stare into her eyes. “It. Is. Not. Your. Fault. You’re the only sodding innocent in all of this!”
 
“It is so my fault!” she screamed, batting Spike’s hands away. “You only say I’m innocent because you’re stupid and you think it’s your fault!” Dawn finally stopped fighting him, and just cried. Spike put his arms back around her, stroking her back and whispering, “Not your fault,” over and over.
 
Outside, Buffy felt like she was breaking apart. She couldn’t comfort herself, let alone her sister. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.
 
As Dawn got quieter, Spike realised that Buffy was on the other side of the wall. Once Dawn had stopped crying and run off upstairs with a tub of ice cream, he called out, “”S safe now. She’s gone.” His voice was cold, bitter.
 
“You’re angry,” Buffy said from the doorway.
 
“Yeah,” Spike said. The muscles in his jaw were ticking. “How hard would it have been? To come in an’ tell her it wasn’t her fault?”
 
“Too hard.”
 
“You just say ‘It wasn’t your fault, Dawn.’ Five words. Done.”
 
“I’m not … I can’t….” Her eyes were pleading. “I can’t do this.”
 
“Look, I get it,” Spike sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “Everythin’s awful right now. An’ I don’t want to push.” He laughed. Me, not pushy. Right. “But I think you need to tell her. About heaven. Guilt’s gonna kill her otherwise.”
 
“I can’t ask her to keep a secret like that.”
 
“But you can ask me?”
 
“I … you’re different.”
 
He laughed again. “Well.”
 
They stared around the kitchen for a few seconds, avoiding each other’s eyes.
 
Buffy looked tired. There were dark circles around her eyes, and her skin was stretched too tightly over her frame. “Have you eaten today?” Spike asked, finally.
 
“Um. I had a pancake.”
 
“Let me make you something?”
 
Buffy crooked her lips in a semblance of a smile. “I could eat.”
 
Buffy sat down at the breakfast bar, and watched as Spike put together a sandwich.
 
She ate in tiny bites, chewing carefully, while he cleaned away the fixings. When she was done, Spike took her plate and put it in the dishwasher.
 
“Xander and Anya are coming over,” she said.
 
Spike nodded.
 
“Patrol with me later?”
 
“’Course,” he said, quietly.
 
Buffy laid a hand on his arm. They looked at each other. “I’m way better at fists than feelings,” she said, letting go of him and slipping out of her seat.
 
Spike listened to her footsteps going up the stairs, heard her pause in front of Dawn’s door, then continue to her own room.
 
------------------------------------------
 
Xander was apprehensive, driving up to the house. He didn’t know what to expect there anymore. Buffy was … not quite herself. Dawn was so angry – and justifiably so. Spike was … just confusing. Willow had warned him she and Tara would be home late, and that Giles would be there. Xander wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. He was still hurt that Giles had left without saying goodbye, but he was so used to the security of Giles taking charge in a crisis, he couldn’t help but feel relieved he was back.
 
Xander also felt guilty for leaving early last night. But oh, the sex had been worth it.
 
Xander got out of the truck he’d borrowed from work, and started carrying boards to the front porch. Looking through the living room “window”, he could see Giles, sleeping.
 
“Hello?” he called out.
 
“Door’s open!” Spike’s voice called from somewhere inside the house.
 
Xander carried the boards into the living room.
 
“Giles?” Xander touched his shoulder. No response. Xander prodded a bit harder. Giles muttered something unintelligible, and turned his face into the sofa.
 
“What’s up with Giles?” he called out, holding back on his first instinct: accusing Spike of having harmed him in some way.
 
Spike came to stand just outside the doorway to the living room, safely in shadow. He grinned. “Drunk as a skunk.”
 
Xander’s mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”
 
Spike nodded.
 
“Where are the girls?” Xander asked.
 
“Upstairs,” Spike said. “Leave you to it, shall I?” He went back towards the kitchen. Xander heard him going down into the basement.
 
Xander looked over at Giles. There was drool. He sniggered. This is just too much fun.
 
Giles slept through Xander bringing in the stepladder and the rest of his tools, his efforts in re-plastering, even moving the sofa away from the window while Giles was still in it. Nothing made an impact on his snoring.
 
The drilling, however, penetrated.
 
"Please, please stop that horrible noise," Giles begged weakly.
 
Xander turned, smiling. "Hey, Giles! Welcome back! Just another couple of holes – almost done."
 
"Could you please stop shouting? My head is ... I have a headache."
 
"You really were passed out drunk, weren't you?"
 
"It's jet lag," Giles lied coldly.
 
Xander laughed. "Yeah, right. Whatever you say, G-man."
 
"Please don't call me that."
 
"Gotta do the other side now." Just before recommencing drilling, he said, "Consider this payback for leaving us without saying goodbye."
 
Giles groaned and put his hands over his ears. He considered getting up, but decided the room was still spinning too much to risk leaving the sofa. He was unspeakably relieved when the drilling stopped.
 
Xander noticed his relief, and immediately – almost gleefully – said, “Oh I’m not done yet! I still need to nail all these boards into the wall to cover the broken window!" Xander picked up his hammer and waved it at Giles.
 
I will never touch a drop of whiskey ever again.
 
------------------------------------------
 
Halfway through the boarding of the window, Giles managed to drag himself away from the noise and into the kitchen, where he was making tea and debating the merits of toast.
 
The sound of the kettle drew Spike back upstairs. “You feeling as awful as you look?” he asked.
 
“Worse,” Giles admitted. “I should probably go try to find a hotel for the night. I don’t think I’ll be good for anything much until I’ve slept in a bed for a few hours.”
 
“Can take mine downstairs, if you like,” Spike said diffidently. “’S not like I use it at night, anyway. I’ll just stay up here and watch tel— oh bollocks.” Spike slouched back against the counter. “We don’t even have a soddin’ telly anymore.”
 
“Thank you,” Giles said, surprised both by the offer and by his intention to accept it. “I … I assume there is bedding somewhere for me to use?”
 
“Yeah. Hang on, I’ll go down and sort it out.” He jerked his head towards Giles’ tea preparations. “Milk’n four sugars, yeah?” He opened the door to the basement and went back down.
 
Kettle boiled, Giles made two cups of tea, marvelling at the situation in which he found himself. Wonders really never will cease around here.
 
A particularly loud bang from the living room sent a shudder through his body. Thankfully, it appeared to be the last one.
 
“Hello?” Anya called out from the hallway.
 
There was a long silence, while Giles presumed Xander and Anya were saying hello to one another. The longer it went on, the more grateful he was he couldn’t see it.
 
A slightly breathless Anya finally came into the kitchen, dragging Xander behind her.
 
“Giles! It’s so good to see you!” she flung herself at him, hugging him tightly. Pulling back and looking him balefully in the eye, she added, “You know you can’t have the shop back, right? You signed papers.”
 
“Hello, Anya. Yes, I know,” Giles said gently. “The shop is yours to run as you see fit.”
 
“Good,” she said, looking relieved.
 
Spike appeared in the basement doorway. “Bed’s ready for you, whenever you want it.”
 
“Thank you,” Giles said. He stepped back from Anya, clutching his tea. “I’m afraid I’m not very good company at the moment.” He looked down at his watch. “I’m very jet lagged.”
 
Xander covered a laugh by coughing.
 
Giles stared at Xander until he stopped spluttering. “I am going to go to bed now. I expect I’ll see you all tomorrow. Good night.” With as much dignity as he could muster, Giles took his tea and his suitcase down into the basement.
 
As soon as the door closed behind him, Xander said, “I vote we use  ‘jet lagged’ as code for ‘drunk’ from now on.”
 
“Was he drunk?” Anya asked. “I thought he looked ill.”
 
------------------------------------------
 
An hour later, Xander had gone home, and Anya was sitting at the dining room table, becoming increasingly alarmed at the state of the house finances. There were almost as many reminders for missed bills as there were bills. It looked like no one was even opening the mail until the envelopes turned red. With all the late charges and extra interest payments.... They were lucky they hadn't been cut off.
  
Spike walked past the doorway.
 
"Spike!" Anya hissed. He came towards her. "You live here, what's with the non-payment of bills?"
 
“Dunno," he said, shrugging. “Don't think I've looked at a bill since I was human. Witches do all that.”
 
"Not enough of it,” Anya said, frowning. “I know you have money. Why aren't you contributing?" Anya added, smacking him on the arm.
 
"Oi!” he said, rubbing his arm. “I give Dawn money."
 
"Oh," Anya said, thawing slightly. "How much?"
 
"Ten or twenty a week? More if she asks for it."
 
"That’s not enough to offset your freeloading!" Anya hit him again. “I promised Buffy I would help her, and part of that is making sure you start paying your way.”
 
“I would’ve before, if anyone’d ever bothered to ask,” Spike grumbled.
 
“Well. I’m asking you now. Six hundred a month. And I think you should replace the television.”
 
Spike rolled his eyes. “Yes, mum.”
 
“Don’t call me that!” Anya said, horrified. “When are Willow and Tara due back?”
 
“’S Thursday, so late. Ten-ish, maybe?”
 
“I’m assuming Buffy is too crazy to handle conversation, since I haven’t seen her yet. And I want sex now, so I’m not going to wait two hours for Willow and Tara to come home.”
 
Spike’s eyes widened slightly at the thought of Anya waiting two hours for a threesome with Willow and Tara.
 
“So can you please tell them that rent is six hundred a month – each – and that they really need to stop waiting so long to pay the bills?”
 
“It will be my very great pleasure, pet.” Spike grinned evilly.
 
------------------------------------------
 
Spike knocked on Buffy’s door at ten. “You still want to patrol, Love?”
 
Buffy opened the door. “I’ve been dying to kill something all night.”
 
As they set off towards the cemeteries, Spike felt a tingle at the back of his neck. Someone was following them.
 
<<     >>