49. Truth and Speculation
By the time they finally
reached the house, Dawn had begun to feel terribly frightened. She was
not the least bit afraid that Spike would physically harm her; she knew
beyond all doubt that he would willingly lay down his own life before
he would ever lift a hand against her.
But she had never seen him this upset with her before. The longer they
walked on in weighted, strained silence, the more fearful she became
that she had somehow crossed a line, and done some irreparable damage
to their friendship through her misguided though well-intentioned
attempts to avenge her friend.
He opened the front door and held it for a moment, waiting for her to
go in ahead of him, his expression tight and angry. With an emphatic
wave of his hand toward the sofa, he ordered gruffly, "Sit," before
heading immediately up the stairs.
He had only gone about halfway up the stairs when he suddenly turned
around and added, pointing a finger at her accusingly, "And you had
better bloody well be *right there* when I come back down or so help
me, Bit, I'll..."
"I'll be here," she whispered, her wide eyes focused on the floor.
He lowered his hand slowly, staring at her for a long moment, and then
turned to go upstairs, before she could see that the anger in his eyes
was already fading, softening with his love for her.
He made his way to the bedroom he and Buffy had been sharing, slamming
the door forcefully behind him. He just stood there in the center of
the room for a moment, trying to make sense of the swirling confusion
of powerful emotions coursing through him, trying to regain some
semblance of control before he went back downstairs to talk to Dawn.
He was still very much in a state of shock over the revelation of what
she had been doing for the past few days – what she had done before
that. She had wished the chip out of his head and into Warren's, and
then somehow managed to get Warren chained up in his crypt, and stolen
the control device from his coat pocket, to use against her captive.
The chip was gone.
It hit him all at once, in an instant, full force with a breathtaking
impact. The thing he had yearned for, sought after -- the removal of
the invasive little piece of machinery in his head, that had stifled
and crushed him, made him a prisoner in so many ways, for so long --
had finally come to pass. He could hardly make himself believe it,
though he knew that it was true.
He was free.
And he was free because of Dawn.
But there was the problem, he thought, concerned. He found himself
deeply troubled by not only the depths of darkness that the girl
appeared to have been delving into these past few days, but also by the
fact that she had gone to such great lengths to hide it from him and
everyone else.
While he and Buffy had been worried sick about the missing control
device, and whether or not Warren would try something, trying
desperately to come up with ways to keep him from hurting their little
fledgling family, Dawn had known all along that the chip had already
been removed, that the controller was safe in her possession, and that
Warren was no longer a threat to them.
At least for the moment, he thought with a dark sense of apprehension.
If the chip could be removed so simply, with no more than a wish, then
there was always the chance that sooner or later, Warren would find
some other magical means of removing it from his own head. As long as
Warren was alive, there was still a chance that he could become a
danger to them again.
That thought sent another little chill of dread through him, at the
troublesome question of just how far Dawn had intended to take this
vengeance scheme of hers. There was no question; he agreed firmly with
her that everyone *but* Warren would be much better off and safer is
Warren was dead.
Ever since that fateful morning when he had awakened chained to the
radiator in Warren's house, although he had quickly been forced to bury
the desire for the sake of survival, he had wanted desperately nothing
more than to rip the boy to pieces with his own hands.
But that didn't mean that he wanted Dawn to.
In spite of the horrors she had seen and been through, in spite of her
considerably large rebellious streak, Dawn had a certain innocence and
sweetness about her that was precious to him. Killing *any* human
being, even one as worthless and purely evil as Warren was, would
certainly steal that away from her – would steal away her very soul.
And Warren's death was certainly not worth Dawn's soul.
Finally, although he could not really understand why exactly, he felt
hurt and betrayed by the huge secret she had kept, the lies she had
told him to conceal it. Warren's fate had been of so much concern to
him ever since his liberation; somehow it seemed a tremendous affront
for Dawn to have taken that fate into her own hands, and not said a
word to him about it. It gave him a helpless, out-of-control sort of
feeling that he could not quite put into words.
It was as if, just as he was beginning to learn how to play the
intricate, delicate game that was learning to live again, just when he
was starting to be able to finally deal with the demons that haunted
him – she had suddenly changed the rules to the game, mixed up all the
pieces so that he had to learn their places over again, bringing back
the uncertain, insecure feeling he had been struggling so desperately
to overcome.
He heaved a weary sigh, then took a deep breath, preparing himself to
go back downstairs and face Dawn. He was not looking forward to this
conversation, but he had to find out just how much trouble she had
gotten herself into, and just what they needed to do at this point to
remedy it.
When he reached the living room, Dawn had heard his approach down the
stairs and had turned her apprehensive green eyes toward them. He
paused, meeting her gaze without anger, but with eyes heavy with
concern as he moved slowly to sit on the couch beside her, albeit
farther from her than he would have usually sat.
He was trying – successfully – to send her a very clear unspoken
message. This was not Spike, her best friend and secret-sharing buddy,
with whom she could do no wrong. This was Spike, her protective older
brother, who was very unhappy with her at the moment for the danger she
had put herself in, and had no intention of backing down.
"I'm sorry," she said in a very soft, timid voice. "I didn't mean to..."
Immediately he held up a hand to silence her, and she stopped talking.
"Just tell me what happened," he said his voice low and controlled.
Then before she could even draw a breath he added firmly, "And do *not*
lie to me again, Dawn. There's been enough of that soddin' nonsense and
I need to know the truth."
Dawn nodded meekly, as she drew a deep breath to respond, not
particularly encouraged by his stern demeanor. "I wanted to make Warren
pay for what he did to you," she began, her voice trembling. "He was
just going to get away with it...the courts weren't going to do anything
to him, and you...you wouldn't make a wish to Anya, even when she offered
it!"
He looked up at her sharply, his brows furrowed in suspicion. He opened
his mouth to speak, but she hurriedly rushed on before he could.
"I asked her about it, and she told me you wouldn't wish. She didn't
tell me any more than that, though," she assured him, and it was
technically the truth. All that she knew beyond that, she had either
overheard without Anya's knowledge, or figured out on her own.
Hesitantly she went on. "So I wished the chip out of your head and into
his, and then had Anya teleport him to your crypt."
"Where you've spent the last few evenings," his voice trailed off in a
leading way, before he prompted, "Taunting him?" He paused, his voice
low and cautious when he spoke again, looking at her closely.
"Torturing him?"
"I've set off the stupid chip like twice – maybe three times," she
quickly dismissed his concerns, her disgust for Warren evident in her
tone and her eyes. "I've barely touched him, I promise!"
He did not respond, and after a moment she went on in a resentful
voice, "I've done a lot less to him than he deserves, that's for sure.
I just wanted to give him just a little taste of what he put you
through."
"And when you've done that?" he pressed her, his voice low and even,
his eyebrows raised challengingly. "When you've sufficiently punished
him? What then, Niblet? What were you planning to do with him then?"
Dawn looked down, her face coloring with shame, as she shrugged
defensively. "I don't know," she mumbled, averting her eyes, avoiding
his piercing gaze.
"Well, I don't think you were planning to untie him and let him go, and
hand him a soddin' phone while you're at it to call the police to come
drag you away to jail, now were you, pet?" he countered sarcastically,
his anger rising again at her avoidance. "How did you think this thing
was going to end, Bit?" He was not about to let her out of this easily.
She didn't say anything, not wanting to tell him the rest of her sordid
story. If he was upset with her *now*, for what she had done to Warren
alone, he would be ready to kill her once he found out that she had
gone to a demon bar and made a deal with a seriously dangerous demon.
Spike took her silence as admission of her intentions, and sighed
wearily. "I'm just glad I found out what you were up to in time to stop
you, Bit. It might sound a bit odd coming from me, I know, but doing
something like that – taking a human life..."
Her eyes shot up to his in an instant, full of some indescribable
intense emotion, and he instantly knew what she was thinking, because
he was thinking it too, even as he spoke. She did have a point.
Warren hardly seemed to qualify as a human worth protecting at this
point.
"*Any* human life," he continued slowly, holding his gaze with his
serious sapphire eyes. "It changes you, Bit. It makes you hard...makes
you...less...than you were. And I don't want to lose you to that, love. Do
you understand that?" His voice was clear, quiet, and intense – and he
had finally allowed his love and concern for her to show in it again,
more powerful than his anger had been.
She nodded, looking down again, her eyes welling up with fresh tears.
She would not have admitted it to him, but she was actually a little
relieved that he had caught her. The pressure of the secret, added to
that of the reality of what she had been doing, had been becoming too
great for her to bear. Somehow, although she knew that Warren deserved
much worse, deliberately hurting another person had made her feel
dirty, had simply felt wrong to her.
"And your sister," Spike went on, shaking his head and sucking his
teeth. "We'll be lucky if she doesn't kick both our arses, pet. Yours
for all this, and mine for *lying to her*!" He emphasized the last few
words, giving her a pointed, accusing look.
But she didn't even notice the point he was trying to make. Her eyes
were wide with startled fear; somehow in all of the drama of the
evening, the idea of his telling Buffy had not yet occurred to her.
"We can't tell Buffy!" she gasped, shaking her head, her eyes wide and
pleading.
"Well, we can't bloody well *not* tell Buffy, pet!" he shot back, a
firm, unyielding expression in his fiery blue eyes. "I'm not lyin' to
her again! Here she is racking her brain and worrying herself sick over
Warren and what he's planning, what he's going to do – she's gotta know
the truth, Bit."
"But..." Dawn searched desperately for a valid reason to keep it from her
sister, but the only thing that occurred to her was the fact that Buffy
was going to be furious with her – and she did not think that argument
would matter much to Spike at this point.
"Anya!" she blurted out suddenly. "Buffy might hurt Anya if she knows
she's a vengeance demon again! I mean, she's the Slayer, it's sort of
her job. She'd kind of have to, right? So we can't tell her!"
"I don't think she's going to hurt Anya, pet. But even if she would –
can't be helped," he shrugged with an apologetic grimace. If he had
really thought there was any chance at all of Buffy's hurting Anya, he
might not have been so casual about it – but he knew in his heart that
he still would have told her the truth. "I'm not gonna lie to your sis,
least of all about something this important, love. You're just going to
have to face the music."
"And what about Anya?" she tried again, insistent. "Should *she* have
to face it, too, just for trying to help you?" She was trying every
tactic she could think of to make him give in – at this point she was
not above a good guilt trip.
"I told you, Bit, Buffy's *not* gonna hurt Anya! Think about it, pet!
She's bloody dating *me*! And I don't even have a chip anymore! She
can't exactly slay Anya just for existing and give me a free pass!" he
pointed out.
"Yeah, but," Dawn argued, not really even realizing what she was saying
as she said it, just trying to convince him of her point, "Buffy
doesn't *know* you don't have a chip anymore yet! If she thought you
were dangerous – like Anya obviously is – things might be..."
Her voice suddenly broke off, her eyes widening in stunned realization
of the implications of what she had just said. Then her eyes turned
toward Spike, in wondering apprehension.
Spike's mouth had dropped open a little, and he looked stricken by the
thought that had not occurred to him before she had spoken. By this
point he was confident enough in Buffy's affections that he rarely
questioned them.
Not unless someone said something to make him question them.
Reason reminded him that the chip had not worked for some time now, at
least not on anyone but Warren, and Buffy had already assured him that
she trusted him, that she believed in him to do the right thing,
without being forced to do so. But the impact of the fact that the chip
was really and truly gone, once and for all, was just hitting him – and
he wondered anxiously what she would think when she heard the news.
Dawn saw with dismay the effect her words had had on him, and quickly
tried to backtrack, "But she knows you're not like that anymore, she
trusts you, she's not gonna think..."
Her voice trailed off again when she realized that he was not even
hearing her. Despite Dawn's reassurances, despite Buffy's earlier
promise of her trust, he began to wonder if that trust would hold true
once reality hit her and she realized that he was completely free of
the chip's restrictions, forever.
At that moment, they heard the click of her key in the front door's
lock, and each froze with their own separate apprehensions.
Buffy was home.