75. Taking Cover
The knock on the
door woke Dawn immediately
with a sudden jolt, as she sat upright in her bed, her wide blue eyes
focused on the door. A bit slower to rise, Joyce mumbled something in
half-sleep, before slowly sitting up and looking toward the door as
well.
Dawn rose from the bed and cautiously approached the door. It could
only be one of two people at the door, as far as she was concerned – or
perhaps both – and she knew that even if the worst case scenario were
true, and it was her sister, under the Slayer's control – the flimsy
motel door would not stop her from entering if she really wanted to.
"Dawnie – wait!" Joyce whispered urgently from the bed, her eyes wide
with fear. "We don't know..."
But Dawn's hand was already on the doorknob, her jaw set with steely
determination, as she opened the door. There was no sense in putting it
off, or simply waiting for the Slayer to attack first.
After all, if it *was* the evil Slayer at the door – who better to
subdue her than Dawn?
When the door opened, it revealed not her sister, but Spike, standing
there, looking weary and a bit battered, but not badly hurt. Dawn felt
an overwhelming sense of relief at the sight of him, as she
automatically stepped back to allow him into the room.
Spike knew that if she had seen him only an hour earlier, her reaction
to his appearance would have been much different. Half-draining a
Slayer twice in the space of a couple of hours had had a remarkable
impact on his health, and he now bore hardly any visible injuries,
besides a few nearly faded bruises and almost-healed burns.
But none of that was on his mind at the moment.
"That was bloody stupid," he informed her, his eyes flashing with
protective anger as he reached across the table near the door to turn
on the light, while Dawn closed the door quietly behind him. "What were
you thinkin', Bit? Just opening the door like that without looking to
see who it was?"
"If it'd been Buffy, I'm the only one who can stop her anyway," she
reminded him with a careless shrug that the blonde vampire found
infuriating. "And anyway, it *wasn't* her – it was you."
"And if it'd been neither?" Spike countered, turning to meet her eyes,
his eyebrows raised in challenge over a look of smoldering anger.
"There's more than your big sis for a little girl to be scared of in
the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere like this!"
Dawn's careless mood faded into a serious expression, as she heard the
slight catch in Spike's voice, saw the haunted, pained expression that
was almost successfully covered by the anger in his eyes – but not
quite.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, not wanting to argue with her friend –
not when something was so clearly upsetting him – something more than
her careless actions.
"And anyway," he went on, sinking into the chair behind the table
wearily, one hand across his brow as he rested his elbow on the table
in exhaustion. "You *can't* stop her – not anymore."
Joyce rose from the bed and started slowly toward him, alarm in her
eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked with concern. Before, Dawn had been
the *only* one who could stop the Slayer. If even *she* could not
defeat her now...
"It's a long story, love," Spike sighed. "But one I've got to tell you.
Got to fill you two in on what's been going on over there."
"I thought you two wanted to – um – wait until morning," Dawn frowned,
after suppressing an awkward smile of embarrassment at the thought of
what Buffy had insinuated to her that she and Spike had intended to
spend the night doing. "What happened? Where's Buffy?"
"That's another long, difficult story, pet," he replied, his voice
betraying his emotional exhaustion, now that he was here in the safest
place he could imagine, surrounded by the people who loved him, with
the cruel Slayer chained up in the next room and unable to harm him at
the moment.
As Joyce neared him, and saw the nearly healed, but still visible marks
on his face and body, heard the raw, painful emotion in his voice at
the question of where her daughter was at the moment, she – quite
understandably – misinterpreted the situation, and stopped short, a few
feet away from him. She surprised both Spike and Dawn when she took the
girl's arm and pulled her back slightly away from Spike as well –
behind her.
"Spike – where is Buffy?" she asked, a certain hardness creeping into
her voice as she studied the vampire's face intently, with a cool
control that covered a rising fear within her – and covered it well.
"*Mom*!" Dawn gasped, indignant at the veiled almost-accusation in her
mother's voice.
Spike's eyes shot up to those of the older woman; he had not missed the
sound of uncertainty and reluctant mistrust in Joyce's voice. The look
of hurt and betrayal in his wide, stunned blue eyes was almost
physically painful to Joyce to look at – and she knew in the very next
instant that her fears were unfounded, even before the vampire spoke in
a voice that trembled with the power of the unreleased emotion that had
been building in him for the past few days, and was now finding its way
to the surface despite his intentions.
"She's safe," he replied, a pleading note to his voice as he held
Joyce's gaze, hurt and desperation in his eyes. "She's safe, I promise
you. I just – I have to explain it – it's – it's bloody confusing –
just – just..."
His voice trailed off, as the sharp ache building in his chest at the
sight of his adoptive family, standing at a distance from him,
regarding him with suspicion, as a thing to be feared – just when he
needed them near him most – became overwhelmingly painful for him...even
as Joyce's suspicion softened to compassion and concern.
Spike lowered his head into his hands, as he managed to get his next
words out, just barely, with a sound that was almost a sob of anguish
and desolation, "...just don't – don't turn away from me, Joyce – please
– I don't think I could – I mean – I need..."
Joyce could only guess at the trauma Spike had been through that night
– but by his broken, pleading words, and the way his body was shaking
with the release of his repressed emotions, she knew that more had gone
on that night than he had intended. But she also knew that he was
telling the truth – Buffy *was* safe – and that what he needed from her
right then was love and compassion, rather than the caution and reserve
that had come with her fears.
She went to him without hesitation, wrapping her arms around him and
pulling his head in to cradle against her chest, as she had done that
first day, when she had come home to find him battered and broken by
Buffy's abuse, long before they had discovered what was really
happening. He turned toward her, leaning into and accepting her
embrace, his body trembling slightly as he tried to hold back his
overwhelming emotions.
Dawn obeyed her mother's silent gesture to bring her a chair, taking
one of the other chairs around the table and setting it behind her
mother, so that she could sit down next to the shaken vampire. Joyce
did not release her comforting hold on Spike as she sat down, just
rocking slightly as she held him close to her.
"How could you think that I would – I could *never* -- even after she –
I'd *never* hurt Buffy, don't you know that, Joyce?" he insisted in a
voice that was thick with tears.
"Shhh," she whispered soothingly, gently cutting off his
heart-wrenching words. "I know – it's all right – I'm sorry, Sweetie –
I'm sorry..."
He just allowed her to hold him for a few minutes, grateful for the
comfort and support that he had felt the painful lack of for so long –
the mother's love that Joyce had given back to him, after more than a
century bereft of it. The thought of, after all he had been through
that night, losing Joyce and Dawn's trust and support as well, had
simply been more than he could handle.
Once he had managed to regain control, she pulled back slowly, her
hands on his shoulders as he met her eyes with a tentative, sheepish
smile.
"Right bloody ponce, I am," he muttered quietly. "Letting m'self get so
– so soddin' emotional..."
"There's gotta be a reason for it, though – right?" Joyce guessed, her
tone serious and concerned, as she gently stroked back his blonde curls
with soft fingertips. Her eyes shone with compassion as they searched
his for the answers to the questions in her mind.
What had happened in the past few hours in the next room to make Spike
so emotionally vulnerable and on edge?
"There is," he admitted – having little other choice. It was not as if
she would have believed him if he had denied it. "But nothing I need to
talk about."
Joyce opened her mouth to protest; she was certain from his reaction
that Spike *did* need to talk about it. But before she could say a
word, he finished quietly.
"Leastwise – not in front of Nibblet."
He glanced past her at Dawn, and Joyce's gaze followed his, as she
realized that he had to be right. If it was enough to bring a powerful
master vampire to tears, and it involved her older sister – it was
nothing that Dawn needed to know about.
"Oh, come on!" Dawn objected in annoyance. "I'm not a child! You can
tell me..."
"Dawn," Joyce cut her off, a bit sharply, "please go listen to your
headphones, or watch TV or something. Spike needs to..."
"No," Spike interrupted softly, shaking his head as he met Joyce's
eyes. "No – don't send her away. We – we kind of need to talk to her."
" 'We'do?" Joyce echoed dubiously, one eyebrow arched in a question,
her look telling him that he had lost her.
"See – that's the thing," Spike said slowly, pulling back away from her
and drawing in a deep breath as he tried to think of the best way to
even begin to explain the situation. "Not 'we' you and me – 'we' – me
and *Buffy*." He paused for a moment before going on, "You asked where
Buffy is – actually – she's -- *here*."
"In this room?" Dawn asked, wide-eyed as she scanned the room for her
apparently invisible sister.
"In this -- *body*," Spike clarified cautiously, searching their faces
to be sure that they were understanding.
His strange words were, not surprisingly, met with utter silence.
"She – she jumped into me – to try to beat the Slayer demon. It was –
the only way we could do it..." he began to explain, his words slightly
tentative.
He could not really blame them if they did not exactly take this well.
"Say *what*?" Dawn said in a dubious voice, falling down into a chair
across the table from Spike and her mother, staring at him in disbelief.
"It's hard to explain – the demon taking over her body and merging with
her essence and such made it possible – it's this whole big *thing* --
but – just suffice it to say that Buffy and I are momentarily
cohabitating in my body – and the Slayer demon is alone in hers," Spike
explained.
"Why?" Joyce asked, shaking her head slightly, alarm in her eyes. Then,
after a pause, "*Where*?"
"In our room..." Spike hesitated before adding, "...chained to the bed..." It
took him a moment to work up the nerve to look at Joyce again, but when
he did, he saw no anger in her eyes. "I – I had to, Joyce – there was
no other way...she...she..."
Her soft blue eyes regarded him with compassion and understanding. "I
understand, Spike," she assured him. "You haven't got a lot of options
here. But – Buffy's in you, so...what good does that do again?"
"I can do the dominance ritual with no chance of actually dominating
Buffy, or having the Slayer get away free because of being joined with
Buffy – I can – do what I have to, to get her to accept my claim –
without worrying about hurting Buffy," he went on, cautiously, glancing
uncertainly at Joyce at his last words.
Her expression had darkened somewhat, but she nodded slowly, accepting
the difficult necessity of what he was saying. "But – how does she get
back in her own body? Once the dominance ritual is done?"
"That's why we're here," Spike said, taking a deep breath as he looked
at Dawn. "You're the only one who can help us with that, Bit, once the
Slayer demon is back where she belongs."
"Me?" Dawn echoed in a small voice, before staring down at the table,
thinking hard about the whole thing.
"Yeah," he nodded. "See – Buffy wants to explain it to you – what she
came up with...she's actually learned a lot from pickin' this nasty's
brain so to speak, while they've been joined up – and it seems you've
got some powers of your own you haven't known about, Bit...but – she can
probably explain it better than I can..."
Dawn's eyes widened as she looked back up at him. "You mean – I can
talk to *Buffy* while she's in there?"
"Well – yeah," Spike nodded with a little self-conscious shrug. "But
only through your minds. It works kinda like when she was in her *own*
body, and the Slayer was in control? How if you touched her, you'd draw
her to the surface? She's got some answers for you on that, too, by the
way – but that's how it works now. You've just gotta – touch me – and
reach for her, like you did before...and the two of you will be able to
communicate...okay?"
Dawn glanced at her mother, who looked away, not wanting to influence
her daughter with her own apprehension. She looked back at Spike, her
jaw setting with resolution.
"Looks like we don't have a choice. Okay. Let's do this."
Spike nodded. "K. Gimme a second."
*Buffy, love? You ready?* he asked her in his mind, realizing suddenly
that she had been very quiet throughout his whole conversation with
Joyce and Dawn.
When she did speak, her mental voice was very small and a little sad.
*Yes. I'm ready, Spike,* she assured him.
He still did not feel quite inclined to comfort her, although something
was clearly bothering her. Still, he could tell that she was hurting,
and he wanted to at least make the effort to try to be supportive.
*Buffy?* he repeated hesitantly.
*I'm ready,* she insisted, clearly trying to change the subject. *Let's
do this.*
She thought she was covering it up, brushing away his inquiries and
protecting her shame from his sight – but she was not. He could feel
her emotions as easily as she could feel his – and in her voice, he
could hear her guilt and remorse for the pain she had caused him.
Suddenly, he realized that it must have been quite difficult for Buffy,
watching his emotional reaction in her mother's arms, feeling his pain
and confusion and knowing that she had put it there – realizing that
the comfort she had offered him earlier had been good,
well-intentioned, and well-received...but not quite enough – simply
because it had come from *her*.
Because no matter what the situation, no matter how hard they tried to
tell themselves that it was not Buffy's fault, she was still, in a
sense, his *abuser*.
*Buffy, love – don't...*
*Spike – not now, okay?* she insisted softly, and there was a pleading
note to her words in his head. *Let's just – do this, okay?*
Spike relented, not wanting to push her too hard.
*Okay,* he agreed, looking up expectantly at Dawn.
"Come on, pet – she's ready," he nodded encouragingly, beckoning Dawn
nearer as she rose and came around the table, reaching out with a
nervous, trembling hand to take his arm.
And for Dawn, in an instant -- *everything* changed.