"Dawnie,
come on, Sweetie, you've gotta get up for school," Tara
insisted, gently shaking the girl's shoulder. She was ready to leave
for work, and wanted to be sure Dawn was up before she left.
"I'm not going," Dawn immediately replied, her voice dull and
expressionless, but clear, unclouded by sleep. She had been awake
already, then. Tara wondered if she had slept at all.
Her heart sank at the girl's words. She felt responsible for her – she
had no one else now – and knew she needed to be in school. But it had
only been two days since her sister had beaten her, tried to kill her
best friend, and disappeared completely, all in the space of less than
forty-eight hours. If Dawn wasn't quite up to facing algebra and vapid
high school gossip, Tara couldn't blame her.
Still, she felt the need to try. "Dawnie, honey, I know..."
"I said I'm not going," Dawn interrupted in that same awful, dead tone.
Tara paused. "Ok, Dawnie," she caved, her voice soft. "I'm leaving for
work now. I'll see you about six, okay?"
No response. Tara knew it wasn't personal, and tried not to take it
that way, but could not help but feel a twinge of guilt at Dawn's
demeanor. After all, in a way, she felt responsible for Buffy's
disappearance. If Buffy had been conscious when Reyem was defeated, the
situation could have been explained to her before she panicked and
bolted. Tara knew in her heart that she had had no other choice than
the one she had taken, but it really didn't help much with her sense of
responsibility for what Dawn was going through.
Once Tara had left, Dawn released a heavy sigh, and the tears she had
been holding back. She had never felt so bereft – so lost and alone.
Tara was trying, hard, to be what she needed, but what she needed was
her sister back – her pre-possession, normal, loving sister – and Tara
could not give her that no matter how badly she might want to. Dawn was
trying to be strong and mature, but deep down she knew, she still
needed someone to take care of her.
She sat up suddenly in her bed. She *had* someone to take care of her.
And she needed him.
She got out of bed and padded down the hallway to her mother's old
room, the one Tara had shared with Willow, and now shared with Spike.
Slipping through the door, she stood there for a moment in the dim
light of early morning, refracted through the tightly closed blinds,
just looking at the still figure in the bed.
"Spike?" she whispered.
He jumped and rolled quickly over onto his back, his eyes wide and
fearful, until he saw her and visibly relaxed. "Hey, Niblet. Why aren't
you in bed?"
"Couldn't sleep," she whispered.
Her own eyes were wide, wild, and frightened, and he could see that she
was trembling.
"C'mere, Bit," he said softly, patting the bed beside him.
She immediately obeyed, and sat down beside him, leaning lightly
against him, not looking at him.
"It's gonna be all right, Bit," he softly soothed her, reaching out to
take her hand in his.
To his surprise, she lay down on the bed, her back to him, nestling
closer to him as she pulled his arm around her. She craved this
closeness, but did not want him to have the chance to read what was in
her eyes.
*My poor little Bit,* he thought sadly. *It's right tragic when all
she's got left for comfort is me!*
"She'll come back, and everything'll be like it was," he reassured her,
and himself.
"Will it?" she challenged the words, and he did not reply. Dawn always
saw through the platitudes and false comfort others held out to her. He
should have known better.
After a brief pause, she added in a soft, halting voice, "Would it –
would I be – a terrible person – if a part of me wishes she wouldn't?"
The last words came out in a rush, as if she was trying to get them out
before she could stop herself from saying them.
His heart ached for them both at her words, because he felt the truth
of them, too. His lips brushed across her dark, silky hair as he tried
for a soft laugh and replied, "Well, maybe, cause there's a really
*big* part of me that wishes that, Bit – and we both know that *I'm* a
terrible person!"
The weak joke nevertheless brought a smile to her lip, and she clasped
his hand in hers, snuggling closer to him.
"More'n likely she just needs to sort all this out for herself before
she makes her appearance, Bit. When she gets back, she'll get back to
being herself again," he assured her. "But it's natural to feel a bit
of doubt about it, love...after all that's happened." He swallowed hard,
trying to keep his composure as he remembered once again in vivid
detail the events of the past few months. Now was not the time to break
down. He knew that Tara would be there if -- *when* -- he needed to
vent, but he had to stay strong for Dawn. She needed him like he needed
Tara.
So he fought back his own tears, so close to the surface all the time
these days, and hugged her closer, whispering into her ear, "It's all
right, Bit. Everything's gonna be all right."
The sun had set, leaving only a few faint pink streaks in the evening
sky, and Spike and Dawn sat on the living room sofa, watching a movie,
though neither of them was paying much attention to it. Dawn was
snuggled up in the crook of his arm; he felt warm and comfortable with
her there. He did not know how he would have survived the past few
weeks without Dawn and Tara. Actually, he knew that he would *not* have
survived it without them.
The doorbell rang, pulling him out of his reverie. He nudged Dawn with
his arm behind her. She gave him a wide-eyes, adorably pouty look. When
he just smiled and nudged her again, indicating for her to answer the
door, she threw her hand over her eyes and said in a faint, breathy
voice, "Too...weak...must...have...rest!"
Barking a short laugh, he pushed her off of him and got up to answer
the door. "And you say *I'm* over-dramatic!" he muttered in
good-natured annoyance. "Bit thinks I'm her bloody servant just cause
she..." His words broke off suddenly as the door opened, and he lost the
breath to speak. He stared at her in silence for a long moment,
scarcely able to believe his eye.
*Buffy.*
The almost automatic sick feeling of fear that rose from his stomach up
his throat lasted only a few moments. Whatever horrors had passed
between them, it was obvious with one look at her that this was not the
same girl who had been responsible for them. Her eyes welled with tears
at the sight of him. She was shivering with the cold, and the
expression on her face was heartbreakingly desolate, the look of one
who desperately longs for but does not ever expect forgiveness.
So she remembered, then. As Tara had said. As for the other question
that plagued his mind – the answer remained to be seen.
But she needed to come in and get warm, and she was just standing
there, staring at him with those wide, stricken eyes, transfixed.
"Well, don't just stand there, love, come in here," he said softly,
moving aside for her to enter. "Dawn," he called slowly, cautiously.
"Come in here, Bit."
She could tell by the tone of his voice that something was up, but he
could not have prepared her for what she felt at the sight of her big
sister, standing in the doorway, shoulders slumped in dejection, eyes
overflowing with miserable tears.
"Oh, Dawnie," she whimpered, her face crumpling as she broke down at
the sight of her, kind of half-stepping, as if she wanted to go to her
but didn't dare.
Her instinctive fears dissipating at the sight of her sister's pain and
uncertainty, Dawn went to her, wordlessly enfolding her older but
smaller sister in her arms.
"Oh, Dawnie, I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" Buffy sobbed, as the
younger girl held her, rubbing her back and gently shushing her.
Spike stood awkwardly to the side, overwhelmed by his intense emotional
reaction to seeing her again, feeling the need to say something, but
not wanting to intrude. He was just about to turn and leave the room
when Buffy pulled away from Dawn and turned toward him, reaching out a
hand to touch his arm.
In spite of the gentle sorrow in her eyes, he could not help but flinch
away from her touch. Pulling her hand back, as she turned fully toward
him, her mouth falling open slightly in hurt, she took a slow step
toward him.
"Spike – please..." she whispered.
It was already more than he could bear. Shaking his head, he walked
past the girls into the living room, where he sank down on the edge of
he sofa with his head in his hands, trying for all he was worth not to
break down.
Dawn immediately left Buffy and went to his side, sitting down beside
him in silence and putting her arm around him. Buffy watched them for a
moment, Dawn comforting and soothing with her mere presence, Spike
fighting back his tears. Slowly she approached them, her hands held
slightly out, beseeching, until she was only a few feet away. Tears
streaming from her eyes, she fell on her knees beside him, reaching
strong but gentle hands up to take his own hands from over his eyes.
"Please – please look at me!" she begged him, sobbing now.
He did not pull his hands out of hers, but did not look at her either.
"Oh, God!" Buffy sobbed, gasping for breath, holding his hands tightly,
desperately. "Spike, I'm so *so sorry*! I know it doesn't change
anything, I know I've hurt you so much, but I'm *sorry*, I can't tell
you how sorry I am for what I've done to you!"
His tears fell at those words, his mouth working silently, struggling
for control of his emotions. He had longed to hear those words for so
long, but now that they were actually reality, he didn't know how to
feel about it.
Buffy continued, crying softly, "Please! Please forgive me! Oh, God,
Spike, *forgive me*!"
He just sat there for a moment, never looking at her, before slowly
unentangling his hands from hers and standing up; she remained kneeling
on the floor, looking up at him through her desperate, tearful eyes.
"I can't, Buffy," he whispered in a voice thick with tears.
"Not...yet...I'm not saying not...not ever, but...but it's just too soon. I
can't." And with that said he left the room quickly, going to his and
Tara's room and shutting the door behind him.
Buffy stared after him in shock and disbelief, trembling. Dawn rose
slowly and put her arms around her. "It's ok, Buffy," she whispered,
scarcely believing she was able to say the words herself. "He needs
time. Do you – you remember...?"
Buffy nodded slowly, still staring after Spike, trembling as the sobs
took her over again.
Dawn nodded too, looking into her sister's eyes. "Time. Just give him
time," she repeated. Then she made herself smile for her sister's sake
and hugged her again, whispering in her ear, "Welcome home, Buffy."