Chapter 7

“Life is a night all dark and wild,/Yet still stars shine:/This moment is a star, my child—/Your star and mine./Life is a desert dry and drear,/Undewed, unblest;/This hour is an oasis, dear;/Here let us rest./Life is a sea of windy spray,/Cold, fierce and free:/An isle enchanted is to-day/For you and me./Forget night, sea, and desert: take/The gift supreme,/And, of life’s brief relenting, make/A deathless dream.” ~E. Nesbit, “The Gift of Life”

Dawn knew Joyce as “Mom,” so it was beyond weird to be introduced to her again. “I know who she is.”

“Dawn,” Buffy sighed. “Please.”

“It’s okay, Buffy,” Joyce said. “Don’t worry about us. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

Dawn had no idea what to call her. Was she Joyce? Was she Mom? Was she Mrs. Summers? Any hope she’d had of being recognized had died when the front door had opened, and Joyce had worn an expression of pleasant concern. There had been no recognition in her eyes, and that had hurt.

“I was going to make cookies,” Joyce said. “Would you like to help me?”

Dawn buried her hurt and raised her chin. There was nothing she could do now; there was nowhere else she could go. She just had to make the best of it. “What kind of cookies?”

~~~~~

“You need to rest, Wesley.”

Tara was the one who spoke. Willow had already fallen asleep on the couch, but he had taken Spike’s words to heart. He was close to a breakthrough in his translation efforts, he knew it. “I’m close, Tara.”

“You’re exhausted, and therefore more prone to making mistakes.”

He rubbed his face with his hands, wishing that she wasn’t right. “Only if you do the same,” he replied.

“I’ve been waiting on you.”

Wesley smiled, looking at her with a sort of wonder. He rose from his seat and clasped her shoulder with a brotherly affection. “You are a treasure, Tara.”

She flushed, looking away from him. “Wesley…”

He interrupted her, knowing that she would only deny what he knew to be true. “Why don’t you join Willow in the bedroom? I know she won’t mind, and I can take the couch.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Good night.”

Wesley waited until the bedroom door had closed behind Tara before stretching out on the couch with Robert’s prophecy. He was tired, but he didn’t think he would be able to sleep.

There was too much information swirling around in his head for sleep.

“Okay, really?” Willow stood next to the couch, hands on her hips.

“I thought you were sleeping,” Wesley replied, sitting up and putting his book aside.

Willow perched on the edge of the couch. “I woke up when Tara came in, and she said that you were going to sleep.”

“I don’t know that I can.” Wesley sighed. “There’s so much going on here, Willow, and I just can’t figure out how this prophecy fits in. There’s a word there that I can’t translate—”

Willow interrupted by pressing her lips to his, her tongue slipping inside, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. All thoughts of the prophecy went out of his head; Wesley couldn’t even remember what the word was that he was having trouble translating.

“Forget the prophecy,” Willow murmured against his mouth.

“As you wish.” Wesley buried his face in her hair, her scent intoxicating him.

Willow stretched out on top of him, nuzzling his neck, and Wesley began to relax for the first time in days. “Sleep,” she whispered.

“After you.” Wesley’s eyes fluttered closed, and he was out in moments, belying his words.

~~~~~

Buffy had not planned on spending her Saturday evening like this—with Xander, Anya, and Spike, cooking up an identity for a half-sister she’d never had.

“You want to make Dawn my father’s daughter?” Buffy leaned back in her chair. “Do you really think that’s going to work?”

“She looks enough like you to pass for it.”

“And I look like my mother, not my father,” Buffy insisted, glaring at Spike.

He sighed. “If you’ve got a better idea, I’d love to hear it.”

“It works, Buffy,” Xander said quietly. “It’s not unheard of for a man to have a kid he’s barely heard of. It doesn’t work if she’s your mom’s daughter.”

“Agreed,” Buffy replied. “But that doesn’t mean anybody is going to buy it.”

“They will if you have all your documents in order,” Anya asserted. “I’ve done this a hundred times, Buffy. People don’t ask questions as long as everything looks good. If Dawn says that she’s your father’s daughter, and that’s what her birth certificate says, no one will ask questions.”

“We still have to explain why my mom would take in my dad’s illegitimate kid,” Buffy said, looking at Spike as she said it. “Dad might be in Spain, and maybe he doesn’t want her, but why would Mom?”

“No other family but you, you’re not ready to take in a teenage kid, Joyce felt bad about letting her go into the system.” Spike shrugged. “It wouldn’t be unheard of. The only other option is for you to take her, and your mum wants you to finish college.”

Buffy pushed her hair behind her ears, feeling both weary and angry all at once. “I don’t understand this at all. She’s completely defenseless. Why transfer all that energy into physical form? Into a teenage girl?”

“What would you protect with your life?” Anya asked simply.

“My family.” Buffy hissed out a breath. “Or another person. But especially my family.”

Anya nodded. “No one protects property the way they protect people.”

“Okay, so we know that whoever created Dawn wanted her protected—by Buffy because of the sister angle, and by Spike because Dawn knew to come here.” Xander frowned. “I doubt it was the Council they were trying to hide her from.”

“We keep our eyes peeled,” Spike said quietly. “But until then, nothing about Dawn gets out. We’ll get the paperwork handled, but no one outside our circle knows. No one even breathes a word about Dawn being something other than Buffy’s sister who’s come to stay because her dad is a rat bastard.” He glanced at Buffy. “No offense.”

“None taken. You’re not far wrong.” She looked at Xander and Anya. “Thanks for helping out, you guys.”

“Let us know if you need anything else,” Xander replied. “Just say the word, Buffy.”

“Thanks.”

They left, leaving Buffy alone with Spike for the first time since Dawn had arrived that morning. She glanced at the clock, thankful that her mom had agreed to keep the teen overnight. It was well after 2 am, and while they knew little more than they had before, they at least had a plan and a list of things Dawn would need.

Spike grabbed her hand, tugging her into the bedroom and pushing her onto the bed. “First we sleep, then we worry about the Little Bit.”

“What are we going to do, Spike?”

“We’re going to do what we always do, luv. We’re going to win this fight no matter who we’re up against.”

“God, Spike. That poor kid.” Buffy buried her face in his chest. “I mean, my life is bad enough, but Dawn…”

“This is not your fault, pet, and we’ll get the Dawn situation sorted.”

“I know.” Buffy pushed herself up, her lips finding Spike’s. “We’ll make it through this.”

She’d hoped that their lovemaking would tire her out enough to let her sleep, but although Spike passed out immediately, Buffy lay staring at the ceiling. The Slayer dream she’d had kept haunting her.

Who would she lose? Buffy wondered silently. What was at stake? How could she save those she loved without knowing who or what threatened them?

After about an hour of lying, she rose and threw on her discarded clothing. A good hunt might clear her head. She could hope, anyway.

“Where are you going?”

“Go back to sleep, Spike.”

“Vampire, here. I need less sleep than you do, pet.”

“I’m just going hunting.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“You were asleep.”

“I’m not anymore.” He rolled out of bed and reached for his pants. “I’m going with you.”

“Spike—”

“Buffy.” He raised his scarred eyebrow just before pulling his t-shirt over his head. “I slept for an hour. I’m good.”

“I hardly think an hour is enough.”

“It is for me.” He finished lacing up his boots, using his speed to his advantage. “Right. Let’s go.”

“Thanks,” she said softly as they exited the house.

He slung an arm over her shoulders. “It’s my job to watch your back, right?”

“And you do such a good job,” she replied slyly.

He grinned broadly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” The night was relatively quiet, and they walked hand in hand through Restfield. It was their venue of choice when they wanted a stroll rather than a good fight.

“William the Bloody. I had heard you were with the Slayer.”

They turned at the same time, and Buffy saw a tall, dark-haired vampire in a cape. “Excuse me?”

“Dracula.” The single word was filled with contempt, and Buffy looked at him in surprise. She’d had no idea that Dracula actually existed. “What are you doing in my town?”

“We have unfinished business, William.” Dracula’s strange eyes moved to her, and Buffy knew that he was undressing her in his mind. He wanted to own her, and it pissed her off. “And who is your companion?”

“I’m the Slayer,” Buffy said before Spike could reply. “You may want to leave town before I kill you.”

“The Slayer?” Dracula appeared both surprised and delighted. “There are two of you here? I may be staying longer than anticipated.” He smiled. “Watch for me.”

Dracula was gone in the flutter of bat wings, and Buffy grimaced. “Gross. I hate bats.”

“What the bloody hell did that poofter mean? Two Slayers?”

“We knew that there would be a replacement for Faith,” Buffy said quietly. “I would have expected that the Council would have told us if they were sending her here, though.”

Spike snorted. “Unless she’s not here to help, but to inform. Sending another Slayer might be the Council’s way of making sure I deliver the key.”

Buffy knew that he was probably right. Chances were that the Council had taken steps to ensure Spike’s cooperation, even beyond placing the geas on him. “We keep an eye out, then,” she said slowly.

“There’s nothing else we can do under the circumstances,” Spike agreed. “But if we find out who’s working for the Council, I think we can assume they’re an enemy.”

Buffy couldn’t fault Spike’s logic after what Travers had done to him, and she was inclined to agree—no one currently working for the Council got the benefit of the doubt.

~~~~~

“Dracula? He’s real?”

“Of course he’s real,” Spike replied, sounding disgruntled. “How do you think everyone figured out how to kill vampires?”

Willow was still stuck on the fact that Dracula existed. “But I thought he was just a legend.”

“He’s a poncy bugger, is what he is. Can we get back to the real point?”

“And what is the real point, Spike?” Wesley inquired, not looking up from the research materials he’d brought along with him.

“The real point is that we’ve got a second Slayer running around, and we have no idea who she is or what her business is.”

Tara cleared her throat. “I can prevent anyone from putting a geas on you again, Spike.”

Willow thought she saw relief flash across Spike’s face before he became deadpan. “I’d appreciate that, Glinda.”

“I’ll work on that.”

“Do you think we could do some kind of locator spell?” Willow asked. “If she’s a Slayer—”

Wesley shook his head. “There’s no way to single out what element it is that makes a girl a Slayer, and even if there were, Buffy’s presence would be likely to corrupt the results.” He looked over at Willow. “And if Dawn is at all related to Buffy by blood—”

“I finished the DNA tests,” Willow confirmed. “Dawn and Buffy are definitely related. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were twins.”

“How is that possible?” Buffy demanded.

Willow shrugged. “They had to make her out of something other than energy, Buffy. They probably managed to get a sample of your blood or hair or something.”

“You can make a construct out of almost anything,” Tara confirmed. “But it was probably blood. The purer the sample, the better the outcome.”

Buffy looked grossed out. “I guess I bleed enough.”

“That’s it!”

Willow couldn’t help but grin at Wesley’s cry of triumph. He was so cute when he got excited. “Did you have a breakthrough?”

“The word I couldn’t figure out. It’s ‘blood.’ The key is blood.” Wesley went back to scribbling. “Hang on. I’ve almost got it.”

Willow leaned back in her seat and looked over at Buffy. They had met up at Spike’s place to discuss the situation. “Where’s Dawn?” she whispered to Buffy.

“Still with Mom,” Buffy replied. “Dawn seems really comfortable there, and she still thinks of Mom as…well, her mom.”

Willow looked hopeful. “Maybe that’s a good thing. It might make it easier to hide the fact that she just showed up on the scene.”

“We’re getting her papers in order. She can start school in the next few days.” Spike rubbed his hands over his face. “I suppose if she doesn’t stay with Joyce and Rupert, she can have the spare room here.”

“That might not be such a good idea.” Tara looked apologetic. “Sorry, Spike, but I’m not sure that you guys would really want a teenager around. Not that you couldn’t handle it, just that it might not be the best solution.”

“No, it’s definitely not the best solution,” Buffy agreed. “But Mom and Giles are getting ready for the new baby. They might not want to handle her either.”

“Especially Giles,” Willow said with a wry smile. “I love Giles, but I don’t think that teenage girls are really his thing.”

“Teenage girls are definitely not Giles’ thing.” Buffy smiled nostalgically.

Spike smirked. “It might be good for him to have Dawn around.”

“Here it is.” Wesley ripped a sheet of paper from the pad. “I have the translation done. As we suspected, the scroll that Robert gave us contained the same prophecy that the Council had. The difference is that the Council’s prophecy is incomplete, either because they did not give us all that they had, or because they didn’t want us to have it.”

“Don’t keep the suspense going, Wes,” Spike said. “What does the prophecy say?”

“The language is rather flowery, but as best I can tell, it says that the key will come to the guardian, a vampire with a soul.” Wesley was reading off the paper, and Willow knew from experience that he was having difficulty deciphering his own scribbled notes. “Should the guardian fail, the key will bleed—that part wasn’t in the Council’s document, by the way—and the walls between the world will disappear. Armageddon will come, the Beast will rise, and Hell shall reign over all the worlds.”

Buffy made a face. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Seems to me that I’d fail pretty quick if I was out of commission,” Spike observed. “I’m not around, they destroy the Key, and prevent the whole apocalypse.”

Wesley shook his head. “There’s more. One of the sections in Robert’s scroll, but not in the other, says that the fate of the world will rest on the choice of the guardian.”

“A choice of what?” Buffy asked.

Wesley looked grim. “Of evils, from what I can tell. Should he fail, the only way to save the world would be to spill the blood of the key.”

“If her blood tears down the dimensional walls, why would Spike hurt her?” Tara asked.

Wesley sighed. “It’s unclear, but as best as I can tell, if Dawn’s blood is spilled at the appointed time, the world will come to an end—until she stops bleeding.”

Willow thought that Spike spoke for them all when he said, “Then I suppose we’d better make sure that she doesn’t get so much as a skinned knee.”