Author: enigmaticblue <enigmaticblue@yahoo.com>
Rating: Mild R for adult themes and language.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters except for Tim. He's mine. Of course, I don't make money off of any of them. Oh, and the title is from a Patti Griffin song of the same name.
Archive: Anywhere that already has my stuff. Anywhere else, just ask.
Summary: Spike leaves after a slightly altered "Seeing Red," and doesn't come back. This fic is set about five years or so later.
A/N: A few things before we get started.
1) This fic is not Spuffy. Even if you don't normally read anything not Spuffy, I hope you'll stick with me, because I think it'll be good. Who knows? You might surprise yourself by actually liking a different pairing.
2) This fic is darker than my usual. I'm going to be exploring some pretty adult themes including prostitution, sexual abuse, and suicide. It's not going to be graphic, and I'm going to be sensitive, but I wanted to give fair warning.
3) I don't think I really have to say this, but I will anyway. I am not trying to make any kind of political statements with this fic. I'm doing Spara because I like the pairing and for no other reason. Personally, I think sometimes you just fall in love with someone, regardless of gender.
Dedication: For Speaker-to-Customers, who said he wanted me to
try my hand at Spara, and for Heather, who thinks I can write anything,
bless her heart.
Chapter 13
"Scars are stories, history written on the body." ~Kathryn Harrison
Dawn looked up into Tim's face as the door swung open. She was about to give him a cheery greeting when he turned and stalked off back into the apartment, leaving the door open behind him. "Hey, Tim," she said, her voice uncertain.
"What do you want?"
His voice hadn't been that cold towards her in a while, and Dawn faltered slightly. "I was just coming over to say hi. I know I missed the party, but midterms were all this last week, and I thought—"
"Spare me," Tim bit out. "You lied to me, Dawn."
She couldn't stop the warmth from creeping into her face. "I don't know what you're talking about. I had to study."
"Meredith and her boyfriend saw you going into one of the frat houses on campus," Tim accused. "You lied to me."
Dawn immediately went on the defensive. "No, Tim! It just came up last minute. I was going to study, but—"
"You could have told me the truth!" he said, as though she hadn't said anything. "I might have been disappointed you couldn't make it, but I would have understood. I thought we were friends."
It was the raw pain in his voice that stopped her from trying to explain. "We are."
"Then why did you lie, Dawn?" Tim demanded.
Dawn blinked, taking a step back. "I didn't want to hurt your feelings."
"Newsflash, princess, you did," Tim shot back. "I was honest with you. I told you things I hadn't told anybody else, and not only did you blow me off, but you lied about it. I don't operate that way."
"Tim, wait," Dawn said as he started to turn away.
He turned to face her, his yellow-green eyes blazing. "No. You screwed up, Dawn. I don't really want to see you again."
Dawn watched his bedroom door slam behind him, wincing at the sound. She hadn't expected him to find out, and hadn't thought he would take it that badly even if he did. A sound caused her to turn, and she saw Spike standing in the entrance, disappointment written all over his face. "How much of that did you hear?"
"All of it," he replied, coming in and shutting the door behind him.
Dawn wanted desperately to make him understand. "I didn't mean to hurt his feelings, Spike. I thought—"
"I know," Spike said softly. "You didn't want him to think you were ditching him."
"I wasn't ditching him!" she protested. "It was just—"
"You had a better opportunity," Spike stated flatly. "We both get that, Dawn, but Tim was right. You lied to him. That was not well done."
Dawn's head jerked back as though she'd been slapped. "Spike—"
"You're not the only one who's hurting these days, Bit," the vampire stated. "What you do, the choices you make, they affect the people around you. Tim is a strong kid, but he's been hurt in the past, and I won't have you making things worse for him."
Dawn's lower lip trembled, but Spike refused to be moved. The girl had been playing fast and loose lately, wallowing in her own pain. It was time for her to realize that the universe didn't revolve around her. "I didn't mean to."
"I know you didn't," Spike said. "That doesn't change the fact that you did. I told you I'd be here for you, Dawn, and I meant that. If you need me, I'll do what I can for you, luv, but I won't stand around an' watch you destroy your own life an' take others down with you."
Dawn took a step back. "That's not fair, Spike."
"Isn't it?" he asked. "Your choices aren't just hurting you anymore, Dawn."
She felt an almost physical pain in her chest, knowing that he was right—knowing that she had hurt Tim and hating herself for it. Hating herself for doing all the things she knew she ought not to be doing. Seeing the disappointment in Spike's face reminded her that there were others who would have been just as disappointed in her behavior.
Dawn wasn't ready to face that yet.
"You can't tell me what to do or how to live my life!" Dawn shouted back. "You don't know what it's like to be in my shoes."
"Maybe not," Spike said, his face grim as he pulled the last of his ammunition out, hoping to reach her. "I do know that your mum an' your sister would be pretty disappointed in you right now. I think you know that too."
Dawn didn't have a reply to that. Instead she rushed out the door, slamming it behind her. Spike slumped against the wall. Way back when, Spike had used the truth as a weapon against the Slayer, wanting to cut her deeply. Now he tried to use the truth to heal, to do the right thing. He'd wanted to turn Dawn away from this deeply destructive path she was treading.
In the end, he thought that he might have chased her away for good.
~~~~~
Spike found that he needed to see Tara, needed to relax in the serenity her presence offered. He needed an adult's presence. When she let him in, her face immediately creased in concern. "What happened?"
Briefly, the vampire described the confrontation between Tim and Dawn and then what he'd said to her. "You don't think I was bein' too harsh, do you?"
Tara sighed. "You were a little harsh, Spike, but it's nothing I haven't wanted to say to her. Dawn needs to realize that she isn't the only person in the world."
Spike shook his head. "I didn't know what else to say to make her understand. How was Tim today?"
"Quiet," Tara replied. "I thought perhaps something had happened, but he didn't seem to want to talk about it. I wasn't sure if I should push or not."
"Hard to say with Tim," Spike said with a grimace. "Sometimes you push an' he leaves. Other times he'll start talkin' your ear off."
"I can keep an eye on him if you think it's necessary." Tara touched his arm gently. "Just let me know."
"Ta, luv," Spike replied, finding himself leaning just a little closer. "I wanted to—" He stopped, not knowing how to say it. "Did you, uh, have fun? In L.A. ?"
Tara frowned slightly, sensing his change in direction and wondering what had brought it on. "I did. It's been a long time since I've been able to get out of town like that."
Spike laughed nervously, feeling again the strange attraction that he was trying hard not to put a name to. Falling in love with a woman who didn't like men would be about his luck, however. It wasn't like he was ever smart about who he fell for. "Yeah, me too. It's been a while since I've had some, you know, adult company."
If she didn't know better, Tara would have said that Spike was nervous. "It was nice." She tightened her grip on his arm; she hadn't yet thought to pull away. "Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?"
Spike shook his head jerkily. "No, I just—wanted to let you know 'bout Dawn and Tim. That's all."
He turned to go. Tara wanted to do something, say something—to touch him. She told herself that it wasn't about physical attraction. It was more that they seemed connected on some deep level. Already Tara couldn't imagine life in Sunnydale without Spike. "Spike—" When he turned to face her again, all she could manage was a brief caress, her hand against his cheek. "Call me if you need anything."
Spike caught her hand where it rested on his cheek and squeezed briefly. "Will do, luv."
And then he was gone.
~~~~~
The withdrawal symptoms were bad. Spike had never thought to be playing nursemaid to a human, let alone a young street kid. There had been one or two fantasies where the Slayer allowed him to take care of her, but that's all they had been—fantasies.
He'd been kept busy keeping Tim company for the first few days he was there, making sure he got through the shakes and vomiting. Thankfully Tim hadn't been on anything that could kill him from sudden withdrawal. At night, there were the screams from night terrors, and Spike was grateful that he lived in an area where people didn't pay a lot of attention to things like that.
After a week had passed, Spike decided he could risk leaving Tim alone for long enough to get some business done. Feeding a human cost a little more than buying blood. The kid's injuries were healing nicely, and although Spike didn't ask a lot of questions, it was mostly because he already knew the answers.
Besides, he really wasn't sure if Tim would respond well to inquiries.
They soon fell into an uneasy routine. Spike really had no idea how to treat the boy, who reminded him of a whipped puppy most days. He did for Tim what he'd done for Dawn—made sure the boy ate, took care of him when he had his nightmares, made sure he went to school and got his homework done.
All the while, Tim seemed almost pathetically grateful for the attention—and scared to death that Spike would suddenly change his mind about him staying. A terror that had subsided only slightly after Spike refused Tim's offer of payment. It had made him soul-sick to realize that the boy thought of himself of value only when he was dispensing sexual favors.
He had smelled the blood immediately after coming into the apartment about a month after he'd brought Tim home from the alley. It was thick and rich, and the scent made his mouth water. Spike found the boy in the bathroom, passed out, the deep laceration on his arm still oozing. The razorblade was still in his left hand.
For a minute, Spike was certain all his hard work had come to naught, that Tim had decided to end his own life. Then he saw the other scars on Tim's arms—scars that suddenly had a context. It wasn't death the boy was after.
Working quickly, Spike had bound up the wound, considering and discarding the idea of going to the hospital. Things were settled right now, but neither one of them needed the authorities getting over-involved. Tim had lost quite a bit of blood, but Spike was an expert on such matters, and he knew Tim would recover without requiring a transfusion.
Spike cleaned him up and put him to bed, and then he fought his hunger as he cleaned up the bathroom. There was a small voice in the back of his mind that wondered what it would be like if Tim allowed him to drink from him.
He rejected the idea in the next moment, but the desire still lingered. It was controllable, but being around that much human blood was difficult.
When Tim woke up, Spike knew he'd have to make the boy see reason. He'd have to show him the truth, show him that bleeding that much around a vampire wasn't smart.
And maybe he'd ask the questions he hadn't wanted to ask.
~~~~~
Tim ran the dull edge of the razor along the inside of his arm, tracing the outline of the star. He hadn't cut in a long time—hadn't felt the need to. Today the desire was back, strong as before, and he sat in the bathroom trying to stifle the urge.
It would be better if he used a tack or a nail. There wouldn't be as much damage then, and Tim would have half a chance at hiding the injury from Spike. The risk of cutting too deeply with the razor was great; Tim had gotten carried away before.
He'd started cutting when he was thirteen, when the pain was so bad he thought he'd fly apart. There was something inside him that wanted the whole world to see the scars he already bore on the inside. So he'd put them on the outside.
After Tim had been with Spike for a while, things hadn't seemed so bad; the pain had subsided to something bearable once he'd understood that the vampire wasn't going to abandon him. And when he had gotten his first tattoo, Tim realized that there was another way to mark his body, something that was a little less self-destructive. Another way to wear the pain.
Now Tim felt as though he was going to come apart again. The pain shouldn't have been that bad; he'd only just met Dawn after all. But her rejection had touched on old wounds that were yet raw, and Tim felt it again. Felt what it had been like to be left by all those who were supposed to love him. To be rejected by those who were supposed to care for him.
He couldn't deal with it, and he hated that fact.
"Tim? What—"
Tim glanced up guiltily to see Spike standing in the door. He hadn't even heard the vampire come in. There was no disappointment on Spike's face—only a pained knowledge. With a gentle hand, Spike took the razorblade from him. "Let's get out of here for a while."
Tim looked down at his empty hands. "Spike, I'm sorry. I didn't—I wasn't—"
"'s alright, lad," Spike said softly. "Think I understand better than you know. Come on, now. Better to get out of here for a while."
Tim followed Spike, because that was all he knew to do. He didn't want to start cutting again. Once he started down that road, he knew how hard it would be to stop. He half-heard Spike ordering Luz to stay behind and the dog's responding whine. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
They walked in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. When Spike finally stopped and Tim looked up, he blinked in surprise. "This is a tattoo shop."
"Yeah, thought you might need it," Spike replied, nonchalant. Though he often wished it could be different, Spike did understand Tim's need for physical pain. It was often easier to deal with than the emotional pain that threatened to overwhelm him.
Tim shook his head. "Spike, I—"
"My treat, lad," Spike said. "You do what you need to do."
It felt as though a burden had been lifted from his shoulders, to know that Spike really did understand at a certain level. "Thanks."
~~~~~
Dawn was furious—at Spike, at Tim, at herself. Knowing that Tara had probably already heard the story, she had refused to return the older woman's phone calls or go by the Magic Box. Dawn felt hard used. It wasn't like she'd wanted to hurt Tim's feelings, or that she'd been trying to be mean. Besides, they didn't understand what she was going through. How could they?
She didn't need them, Dawn decided. She was just fine on her own, doing her own thing. Dawn was on her own, after all. She wasn't relying on anybody for help.
It didn't help that Dawn received word that she was flunking three out of four of her classes. Not studying for midterms was coming back to bite her in the ass, and there didn't seem to be any way for her to make it up. If she failed she would lose scholarships, however, and she had no way to pay for school otherwise. It wasn't as though her dad was going to be any help at all.
She wanted to bury her head in the sand and hope things worked out. Dawn didn't feel like she could do anything proactive—she felt stuck, as though she'd dug a hole so deep there was no chance she'd ever make it out.
Dawn didn't want to deal with feeling hopeless.
So, when Alan asked her to go with him to the frat party, Dawn didn't say no, even though she knew she probably should. He was too grabby—he was pushing her too hard to get physical with him. He made her uncomfortable with his insistence, but Dawn ignored her instincts, wanting just to forget for a while.
Her last thoughts before she blacked out were of regret, which wasn't foreign to her. It seemed all Dawn had these days were regrets.