DISCLAIMER: Give me Spike! Give me Spike! Please give me Spike!*blushes*
Erm, nope, not mine.
DISTRIBUTION: Just ask, I don't think I'll say no.
TIMELINE: After 'The Gift' but before S6.
SUMMARY: Spike. Dawn. And five moments lost in the summer.
RATING: PG, for language.
WORDCOUNT: 5675
IMPROV #72: lie,
forgery, steal, cheat
DEDICATION: to Cerisaye. Because 1) She said -and I quote- "I really hope you
explore it (Dawn/S) more fully, Leni. ", 2) She actually agreed to beta this huge
(for me) baby and did a wonderful work at it. Notice how many times their names actually
appear in the story? That was her idea. (If you don't know, I'm a pronoun-lover, just ask David. *blushes*)
THANK YOU: to MaquisLeader, for pointing me in the right direction. *smooch*
The Gift Award at Heroes Awards
FIVE MOMENTS LOST IN THE SUMMER
by Leni
Day 23
"And even when everything is forgotten
and your name disappears in the dawn
The forgery of these sacred feelings
shall still not be en-"
"Oh please. Stop please!" Dawn couldn't stop herself anymore.
Spike grinned; at last he was seeing her laugh. She was laughing at him, true, and he
should be at least a little mad. But he couldn't. Not really. "Well, you were the one
who asked for a poem with your name on it," he groused.
Dawn breathed deeply, and let out a final giggle. "Yes, but I never told you to
butcher what we, civilised people, call poetry."
"So you didn't like it?" he asked with a false pout.
Of course, she immediately saw through his façade. "Oh! Don't be such a big baby,
Spike!"
He only pouted more.
Dawn turned to him and hugged him tightly. "Thank you," she murmured.
Spike only caressed her hair awkwardly as he felt the first tear fall.
***
Day 52
Dawn shifted and looked for the most comfortable position on the narrow couch. Of course
it involved settling her head on Spike's lap, but, as he didn't seem to mind, she didn't
either.
She watched as Schwarzenegger cut the bad guy's arm, and didn't know whether to be
relieved or grossed out when instead of the understandable gush of blood, a silver liquid
poured out and transformed itself into a new arm. "Why are we watching this
again?" she asked without looking up.
"Because I actually agreed to watch 'The Princess Bride' and 'Pretty Woman' in
one sitting," Spike answered for what seemed to be the hundredth time.
"Oh yeah." Dawn giggled as she remembered his moans at the most romantic scenes.
"Don't tell me you didn't like that final part when he comes pick her up in his
limousine, just as she thinks everything is lost."
Unintelligible grumbles were his answer.
She thought back to that scene, about how it looked like something straight out of a
fairytale, in the modern version, of course. "Tell me Spike, do you believe in
fairytales?"
This time he scoffed. "'Course not."
"I used to."
Sensing that this was going to be one of those 'serious' conversations this girl was fond
of having since Buffy's death, Spike decided to pause the film. "And?"
"And I was the princess in this really big castle, and Dad and Mom were king and
queen," Dawn said wistfully.
"And your sister?"
"Buffy was the evil dragon, of course," she stated. Spike was glad to notice
that there were no tears in her eyes as she said her sister's name.
"Of course," he drawled. Spike wanted to say something witty about all the ways
the Slayer had acted like a dragon but he knew Dawn wasn't finished yet. He was right.
"Then we came to Sunnydale and I lost castle and king. I grew up. And one day I
discovered that my sister was not the dragon. Just the opposite. She kept away all Big
Bads stupid enough to believe they could win against her." Awkward pause. "No
offence," she added in a meek whisper.
Spike only shrugged. Water under the bridge, over the bridge... It was a fuckin' flood
over the burned down bridges to his old existence. Who said he was bitter about it?
He wasn't pleased at her unthinking words, that was for sure, but neither did he seem
upset. Dawn continued. "Then my mother was gone too, and finally Buffy." She
looked at him, the only one who didn't run every time she mentioned her sister's name.
"Spike, what's a princess without a castle and a family to care for her?"
Caressing her hair in what had become his usual way to comfort her, Spike thought about
it. What could he tell her? He was just a vampire, for god's sake, what did he know about
grieving humans? Then inspiration hit him, more forcefully than when he'd tried to be a
poet. "You're still the future queen, Nibblet, and that's the only thing you really
need to be."
Dawn finally raised her eyes to meet his and smiled tremulously. "Will my tale have a
happy ending?"
Spike tried in vain to summon a smile. He truly didn't know the answer. What would become
of the girl who was the Key and now was a virtual orphan, since her father hadn't appeared
yet, with only false memories as a legacy? And, what'd become of a world where the only
Slayer was behind bars? For that matter, what could become of a neutralised vampire who'd
promised to take care of the little sister of his supposed worst enemy?
Cuddling closer into him, she asked again, "Spike?"
"I don't know, princess."
"Lie to me?"
He considered it, he really did. To tell Dawn that everything would be alright and that
everybody would have a happily-ever-after and they'd all - except him of course - drive
off into the sunset. Spike did think about saying all that, even opened his mouth to tell
one of the biggest lies of his unlife. But he saw her trusting eyes staring up at his and
the only words which left his lips were, "I'm sorry, Dawn. I really don't know."
She nodded in acceptance. Dawn understood that he didn't know. She also understood why
Spike couldn't lie to her. At the moment she wasn't sure if she should like or hate him
more for denying her that kindness. "Let's watch the film, I'm sure there was an
interesting special effect after this scene."
He kept one hand playing with her long tresses as he hit 'play'.
Dawn covered her cold feet and let Spike's thigh act as her pillow, feeling his fingers go
soothingly through her hair.
Neither said a word until the film ended.
***
Day 84
"He's teaching Dawn poker."
"Yes."
"And you're letting him."
"We don't see the harm," Tara answered.
He turned to his lifelong friend. "Willow, you're letting the little sister of our
best friend be alone with the same vampire who kidnapped us and would have
killed us if, by some miracle, he hadn't decided to leave the town."
Willow flushed. "It's just..." she tried to explain herself. Xander was right,
of course he was. To leave Dawn under Spike's supervision was a disaster begging to
happen. Yet they got along so well... and the only times she had seen the girl smile in
the last weeks were when the vampire was around. That last thought consolidated her
decision. "I know you don't approve, Xand. I'm not sure myself about this, but
Spike's good to her, keeps her mind off... you know."
Tara intervened. "Yes. Xander, neither of us can stay with Dawn twentyfour-seven.
She's in a difficult phase, would be even if her mother and her sister weren't d-"
she strayed off when she saw the grief in her lover's eyes.
They stayed silent, and the loud voices from within could be heard through the door.
"Hey! That's cheating!"
"What? Of course not!"
"Come on, Spike, there can't be two diamond kings in a deck!"
"I don't see a diamond king in your hand, Nibblet. Where is that second one?"
Silence.
"Dawn?" came in a warning tone.
Dawn's hesitant voice was next. "Erm... I was wrong?"
Xander chuckled. He knew well what had happened. Years ago he himself had marked those
cards, and then patiently taught little Dawn what the blue x's and the black points and
the apparently accidental dog-ears meant. So it seemed that Spike had introduced one of
his 'own' cards into his winning hand and Dawn had discovered the marked card in the
untouched deck. Both deserved each other, what a cheating pair! Xander thought amusedly.
Then shook his head. No, not amused, he was not amused at all with Spike unbound in this
house.
A shriek and giggles came from the living room, indicating that the tickling session had
begun.
"Oh Dawn, Dawn, Dawn... Let's see if this will teach you not to cheat
me."
More laughter and Xander's eyebrows shot up as he heard the vampire's deep laugh mixing
with Dawn's.
"You are smiling," Tara told him. He stared at his reflection on the wall
mirror.
Yes, he was smiling. One of the few times since Buffy's death, and without Anya being the
cause for it. He sighed and conceded defeat; maybe it wasn't so bad. But he'd be checking
on Spike. That he would.
***
Day 112
Silence and Dawn were now good friends, and she hated when someone meddled between them.
That's what Tara and Willow always did. Fussing around her like mother hens and asking if
she was alright, if she was feeling okay, if she liked her food, if she had enough
strawberry shampoo or should they buy another one already, if, if, if...
That was one of the main reasons why she liked spending time with Spike, he didn't mind
the silence. Either at his crypt or in her living-room or - in those days where the tears
never stopped and she felt like going to that tower and jumping to meet Buffy's fate -
while she clung to him on her own bed.
Spike didn't offer hugs like Xander or tissues like Tara or homebaked cakes like Anya. He
didn't even offer to 'talk about it' like Willow and Giles often did. But he didn't say
anything as she told him about dreams of guilt and nightmares of blame, he didn't try to
console her with silly words when she cried over Buffy's picture, and he certainly let her
smile and laugh at the TV without sending barely-hidden accusing glares in her direction.
Dawn knew that no Prince Charming would come at her rescue, that the White Knights were
already busy with girls who weren't Keys and didn't cause Apocalypses and funerals. She
knew that nobody would come with mysterious appearances and gifts of silver and leather
like Angel did ages ago. Neither would a blonde man full of innocence and bravery come
smiling to help her. No, of course not. Those had been reserved for the Slayer, for the
girl destined to die at her own sister's hands - or in her own sister's stead, whatever;
both meant the same for Dawn.
But Dawn had her own Tarnished Prince, someone who smoked in the kitchen even though she'd
told him it was bad for her health, someone who let her turn the volume to its
loudest when nobody was home in the day and taught her how to cheat at poker at night.
Spike wasn't perfect. Not like she'd thought of Xander months - eons - ago but... but he
truly cared for her. Dawn knew - and she knew this for sure - that right now she was his
priority. More than his liquor and his cigarettes and his moping for Drusilla and his
mourning of Buffy and his resentment of Angel/Angelus... She was first in his thoughts.
It felt good. To be someone's priority.
Dawn had never had that, her mother had shared her love between her daughters, that's
true. But that also meant that neither was more important than the other. For her whole
life Dawn had had to share the N°1 Daughter pedestal with Buffy. Then Joyce died and Dawn
had discovered too late that she was first in Buffy's heart too.
How to notice that her sister worried about her just after discovering that she wasn't
real? That she was the Key - whatever that really meant - and the cause for the latest Big
Bad to visit the Hellmouth?
Dawn had been so lost, grabbing blindly onto Buffy's hand and trusting her sister to bring
her to safety. Never would she have dreamed that her older sister - the Slayer, the one
girl in all the world - was lost too. But Buffy had been. Lost and terrified with nobody
to hold her hand and promise to care for her.
She had cried for hours when Spike told her, not with those words but the meaning
underneath was unmistakable anyway. Never again did Dawn dare blame her sister for dying,
for leaving her with Willow and Tara who may love her but, how could they really
care for her when she was little more than the burden left by the
Girl-who-saved-the-world.A-lot? Dawn knew just by looking at them that neither knew what
to do with her, that neither was sure what'd happen in a decade's time, or in a year's
even.
But Spike did. Maybe the specifics were blurry but Dawn knew that if things got tight he'd
stick to her come wind or high water. If one day Dawn asked him to run far, far away he'd
look at her questioningly, name all the pros of staying in Sunnydale (friends, security, a
house and something resembling a family) and threaten to call Willow or Angel to make her
see reason. But, after all that fuss, Spike would see into her eyes, sigh dejectedly and
say 'I hoped it wouldn't come to this, little bit' and help her pack her bags.
Sometimes Dawn was tempted. To ask him and go far, far away together leaving friends and
dead mommies and dead sisters behind. She dreamt about being on the road with Spike as her
only companion, and she could almost smell the buses they'd take and the cheap hotel rooms
they'd rent. Dawn wondered how different it'd be to have him every day at every hour, if
they'd finally grow bored of each other or if... Or if... A chuckle always came next. Ah,
the wonders of romance novels!
Of course, romance novels never included the heroine lying on the damp grass in a cold
night. It really wasn't one of the best ideas Dawn had had in her life, but with the
circumstances of the last hour it was the best she had come up with. The garden was the
only place where she felt alone, and she was sure neither Willow nor Tara would bother her
in this unseeming sanctuary. Of course, Tara and Willow were not the only ones who worried
about her and Dawn just knew that there was someone behind her. She could even bet who it
was. "Spike?"
Not bothering with greetings, he went straight to the point. "What are you doing
outside?"
She rested her head against her hands again. "Watching the stars, isn't it a pretty
night?"
"As long as the stars aren't talking to you," he muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing," he quickly covered, "So you fought with the witches and
then came to this cold garden for some star-gazing?"
His voice was stern and somewhat gruffy. Maybe he'd interrupted his sleep to come. A smile
nearly adorned her lips at the thought of Spike waking up all dishevelled and disoriented
because he 'felt' something was wrong with her... Ah, the wonders of romance novels, Dawn
thought again. She shrugged and let the silence hang between them.
Spike watched her, lying on the grass with her hands cushioning her head. He wondered what
made that half-dreamy half-amused look come into her eyes. She looked so helpless,
immersed in her thoughts and looking vulnerable and thin... He shook his head. No matter
what everyone said and did Dawn was getting thinner in those last weeks, her face losing
the baby fat too fast. The Slayer had still retained that rounded, childish look when he
first met her, how could her sister look so old at her young age?
He remembered the Dawn of nearly four years ago. Spike hadn't seen her more than five or
maybe six times in his first visit to the Hellmouth. He remembered a little girl who
looked at her mother with adoring eyes while she poked her tongue at Buffy behind Joyce's
back. They had been at the mall, in one of those nights where Spike trailed the Slayer to
learn about her fighting techniques. He had been surprised at finding his mortal enemy
still living with her blood family. When had a Slayer ever had a family? His fingers
played unconsciously with his trench coat buttons. As far as he could remember, there had
only been that New Yorker chick with her little kid. He had trailed those two for weeks
too before deciding to attack the mother in that subway.
But Buffy's case had been different, her family still didn't know about her secret. That
much was obvious as he saw the trio walking down the streets, the mother and the little
bint chatting carelessly about their day while Buffy looked nervously around, obviously
feeling his presence but unable to do anything about it. He'd chuckled then, oh, what an
easy prey they would be. The woman with her head held high, a pleasant smile on her face
as she looked proudly at her daughters. And the girl... Poor little girl, he'd thought
with a smirk, condemned to an early death just because she was born with the wrong sister.
Oh yes, he still remembered the Dawn of before: Walking with her hand in Joyce's,
bickering with her older sister at every turn, an aura of childish innocence surrounding
her every act. Maybe he'd been wrong then, and the little girl had not fallen prey to any
of the Slayer's enemies; but not even an innocent girl can escape the Hellmouth.
Especially when she never was just an innocent girl. It felt weird to know that his
earliest memories of Dawn were not true, but he'd decided that if Dawn was now real - and
he didn't doubt that for a second - then his memories had to be, too. You could not have a
present without a past, and the lonely fifteen-year-old lying on her garden was
once a sweet girl walking home along her family.
Sometimes he wondered what he'd do without Dawn, what would become of him? He knew the
gang didn't need him. They had Willow's magick, that robot - which always made him flinch
- for the muscle and the knowledge fromm Giles and the Magic Shop. Many times he thought of
leaving the cursed town behind. But there was that last promise, one which bound him to
her...
No, no, that's wrong, his word was worth shit. He'd promised many things in his unlife and
he'd only kept his word when it suited his needs. How did staying with Dawn suit his
needs?
Because she needed him.
It was not his promise to Buffy which made Spike stay, but the knowledge that this girl
with her long hair and her brown eyes needed him. Spike knew that if Dawn had any say in
her orphan life he'd be the one staying at her home and caring after her. Dawn hadn't said
it, of course, but he knew it anyway. From the way she looked at the others when they
weren't aware of it, from the way she escaped into her room when they tried to console
her, from the way she smiled when he arrived... Somehow he felt that if he asked her to
flee and never come back Dawn wouldn't refuse him. Maybe she'd think about her sister's
friends and of how she'd be disappointing them again but in the end she'd pack her
bags and accompany him to wherever he decided to go.
Sometimes Spike wondered how it'd be, to travel with her around the country and even
around the world. Just the two of them. He wondered for how long Dawn would cling to him
until she discovered - just like Cecily and Dru and Buffy before her - that he would never
be enough; for how long he'd be able to lean on her before she left him too. And he
wondered, what if...
What if this time she didn't leave?
The meek poet in him was terrified at this need to be needed, at this circle which had
left him burned twice already. But Spike was tempted, didn't they say that third time was
the charm? Dawn would be so perfect. She was young enough to be moulded into his shape,
and yet old enough to remain herself. Spike wasn't fooled by her apparent innocence nor
afraid of her young body. Not even Angel had waited long for his supposedly true love, had
he?
And a little voice inside himself sang of Buffy's presence in her sister's veins. If there
was enough of Dawn in Buffy that her blood would seal the portal, shouldn't it work the
other way around? Spike didn't want to think like this. He knew how it felt to be
someone's replacement, just a shadow of the one who'll never come back, and he certainly
didn't want that for his girl.
Spike knew Dawn would - and should - be scared of these thoughts but he couldn't help but
wonder: What if? But there was the other side of the coin. What if she tired of him? He
couldn't have that. Not again. He knew that the next time he gave his heart to a woman
would be the last. Not even soulless vampires deserve to be rejected thrice.
He wouldn't risk it, he couldn't.
He would grab what he had right now, because it felt good. To be needed, to be wanted, to
be preferred above everyone else in someone's life. Spike was anything but ungrateful. He
was willing to stick around as long as Dawn needed him and, damn it, he'd do a good job of
caring for her. At least until he could finally decide if the risk of running away with
her was worth it.
"They are worried," he said finally, tired of musing and bored of the stubborn
silence the girl chose to maintain. He held his hands on his hips and a serious expression
on his face.
Dawn read his eyes and saw that he didn't want any nonsense from her tonight. With a sigh,
she decided to sit. He looked less threatening if you weren't looking at him from a few
inches above ground. "I know," she whispered. "But they... They don't...
They can't... I mean," she sighed again. Everything was so complicated.
"They are so worried that Tara actually went to look for me. At the crypt. You know
she hates it."
Dawn nodded. It was not her fault, but it wasn't theirs either. "Everything is so...
jumbled. I like them. I have known Willow since she was nearly my age." She thought
about it. "Or at least I remember fifteen-years-old Willow, even if we didn't really
meet then." Her shoulders slumped forward. "And I adore Tara, too. She's very
sweet and has lots more patience than Will. But..."
"But they are neither your mother or your older sister and you don't see why you
should obey them even when you know you should," he completed her sentence.
"Yeah," she admitted. "I know their intentions are only the best. I mean,
they moved here and everything just to look after me and I'm really really thankful but...
but they won't let me breathe!"
Spike sighed, he really hadn't wanted to come in the middle of this. From experience he
knew that, left to their own devices, this gang would come to terms with everything thrown
at them. But Tara had sounded so frantic, so worried that Dawn might get the flu or worse
if she stayed in the cold. Spike had never been good at refusing a woman in need, not when
he actually liked them, so he couldn't turn down helping his little Nibblet. Even if, in
his honest opinion, Dawn was just having a good ol' bout of teenage angst, where only half
of it was actually justified.
"Would you prefer that they left you alone?" he asked point blank.
Yes. "No!"
"Then why do you insist on pushing them away?"
"I don't."
Spike cocked an eyebrow. "And what exactly are you doing right now?"
Acknowledging the truth, Dawn sighed in defeat.
"Will you go in and talk maturely with them?"
She nodded, but before he could offer to accompany her to the door she added, "Later.
First come sit next to me for a bit," she whispered, "Please."
He thought about the couple in the house, worried and surely watching everything through
the window. Then he looked at the little girl at his feet, so fragile and lonely in her
own garden. He sat down, not wanting to consider why would he, a vampire who had been one
of the most vicious of his time, be willing to spend his free time with an adolescent who
turned from angst-queen to bubbly-teenager at the drop of a hat. And all just because she
asked pretty please.
As soon as he was on the grass, Dawn immediately laid down, so that her head was
comfortably resting on his lap. He tried not to smile, but didn't fight his hands as they
moved to stroke her hair. When exactly had this become so... normal?
"Drusilla used to talk about the stars, didn't she? That's what you were mumbling
about just before."
Gritting his teeth, his fingers stopping their gentle movement, he warned,
"Dawn...". He certainly did not want to talk about his Sire.
"Don't get angry, Spike. I just wanted to know. Buffy used to say she was crazy, you
know? And Mom once mentioned that you told her that your girlfriend read the sky in her
dreams." Spike snorted, Joyce had always had a very good memory. "I just want to
know what kind of stories she told you, was there anything interesting in her
repertoire?"
As Spike shook his head it occurred to him that Dawn couldn't see him anyway, lying on the
grass as she was with her head cushioned by her arms. "I won't talk about it,"
he stated, leaving her no room for argument.
Dawn only sighed, she really didn't want to mock his past relationship or anything. He was
too kind to her to repay him with such pettiness. "Oh well, if you don't want to talk
about Drusilla then I'll tell you some stories about the stars that I invented
myself."
"Dawn," he said gently, "this won't make your problems disappear. Willow
and Tara are really worried, you know?"
"Shh." She put a finger on his lips and raised her head until she could look at
him, her eyes a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Since when are you the voice
of reason?" Dawn asked with a chuckle.
The question surprised him. Spike tried to remember when exactly had he grown into a
responsible figure for this girl. Before getting an answer he felt her shifting until her
head was resting on his chest instead. She had her eyes closed, and a light smile adorned
her face as she began her tale.
"If you look straight ahead you'll see what common people deem as the Great Bear. But
they lie, or they don't know the whole truth, for it's not a bear and not even a she. It's
a Wolf King and it doesn't need the full moon to howl into the night."
For a moment Spike wanted to question how she knew the exact position of the stars under
closed eyes; but, as she wove her story about gods and goddesses and travels and forgotten
myths he found himself letting his eyelids fall as he imagined a world where the Wolf
ruled the world as its Princess transformed herself into a hummingbird and fled far away.
But he could always hear the beat of her wings at his right side, and at his left her
voice narrated lost tales of nightmares and hope.
***
Day 147
"Where did you steal it from?" a voice at his side asked suddenly.
He started at the sound of it. Having patrolled all night, he'd decided to crash on the
couch after escorting the witches home. Dawn stood at his side, he quickly noticed,
fingering curiously the trenchcoat which covered him.
His eyes certainly didn't want to open, just as he didn't want to answer the inane
question. But he knew his Nibblet, and she wouldn't let it go until she had her answer.
"I took it from a S-" Spike suddenly remembered whom he was talking to.
"shop. Yeah, from a shop in New York. Smashed the big shop window and went in for
this little thing."
Dawn shook her head in a patronising manner. "No, you didn't."
He growled in annoyance. Couldn't a vampire have a good sleep after such a tiring night?
"Then maybe I bought it. You happy now?"
A mocking snort came from her. "Yeah, I can see it. You and Drusilla at the mall
looking for the perfect trench coat. Hah, I can't even imagine you alone at the
mall."
"Well, what do you want to know then?" he finally snarled, more than a little
confused by this little melodrama. It was just a freaking coat, for god's sake!
"What about the truth?" she threw back.
"Oh, so my Nibblet wants the truth," he drawled, "Do you think you can
handle it, little girl?"
Dawn shrugged. "I know you stole it from a Slayer's dead body. Buffy told me
so."
He actually looked surprised this time.
"I think she wanted to scare me so I wouldn't be nice to you," she explained.
"Then why did you ask?" he asked, now completely at a loss about this behaviour.
"I just wanted..." Suddenly all her interest focused on the worn leather.
Several seconds passed until she could answer his question. "I just wanted you to
know that I don't care. You were big, you were bad, I know it." She chuckled
self-deprecatingly. "Just as I know that I was nothing but energy until two years
ago. And I don't care about that anymore either." Somehow her eyes searched for his
and they managed to lock for what seemed the longest time. "It doesn't matter what I
was, it doesn't matter what you were. I trust you now. And I wanted you to know
that."
Later - much, much later - he would wonder why he didn't take that opportunity to propose
an escape, it would have a wonderful chance and she would have never refused him. Not just
after telling him that she trusted him. But by then it was already be too late, of course.
The tale of his life, it was always a little too late for Spike.
But in that moment he just shifted uncomfortably under her gaze and the onslaught of kind
words. This girl was saying that she trusted him and it wasn't right. He was not sure why
it was wrong but it was. Terribly so. It was one thing to know that she needed him to calm
her fears, that she would run with him because in her mind he was the better option, but
that she'd trust him? Implicitly so? "This chip doesn't make me good, Dawnie,"
he rationalised, trying to dissuade her.
"Not good but different," she countered, fully prepared for his denial.
"And I don't think it's only that chip. You could have put a price on our heads again,
you don't need to harm us to do that. Sometimes..." She breathed deeply now, knowing
that Spike wouldn't like this last part. But she had said so much already, this last
conclusion couldn't hurt. "Sometimes I wonder if you aren't undergoing a process, an
evolution. Kinda like Giles; he wasn't this good when he was younger, you know?"
"I'm not like Rupert!" he protested.
"Of course not, you're different. Haven't I just told you that?" she said with a
roll of her eyes.
"You are actually serious," he said in wonderment.
Dawn nodded, glad that at last she'd gotten her point across. She had spent the last
nights wondering how to tell him and finally had chosen the direct approach.
"You are crazy," he pronounced. Spike really thought she was, what kind of
fifteen-year-old went and told a soulless - therefore evil, at least in theory. Only not
in hers, apparently - demon that she trusted him? And that he was 'undergoing a
process', an evolution nonetheless! What did she think he was, some kind of monkey
striving to be a man? Hah!
Her lips moved slowly into an amused smile. "I'm in my teens, I have the right to be
as crazy as I want."
"It's the worst decision in your entire life," he laughed.
Something in her eyes changed then, going from amused and relaxed to serious and drilling
in an instant. Spike clearly felt as if it was the first time she looked at him.
She had taken all her romance novels to the Charity Sale at the nearby church the day
before. She hadn't felt even a little bit sad as the chipper, starry-eyed teenagers
skimmed through the pages and aaahed and ooohed until they finally bought them. Dawn knew
that Prince Charming and the White Knight only lived in those cheap books, or if you had
worked - and died - hard enough to get a good Karma. But she didn't want them now. She had
Spike. He wasn't a hero, nor a prince, much less a knight but he was hers and one day -
soon - she'd get enough courage to finally ask him to run away.
"No, it's not," she said slowly, her gaze fixing on his for one last second
before she left the room without further explanation.
He stared after her. Was it true? Did Dawn really trust him? And, most importantly, why
did it matter so much? If he hadn't been so intent on answering those questions, Spike
might have noticed that his fingers were lightly grazing the spot of leather she had
touched before.
Spike never had time to think any more about Dawn and that last interlude.
Because less than eight hours later Willow would attempt the most important spell of her
life.
The End
26/09/03 - 05/10/03
Feedback will be worshipped with fervour.
