Chapter 16: Dreams and Portents

All the Graces of the Dawn

By enigmaticblue <enigmaticblue@yahoo.com>

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Don't sue.

Summary: This is a sequel to "The Great Advantage of Being Alive." If you haven't read it, this one really won't make any sense. In any case, Spike's trying to find out what it means to be a man, and to fight at Buffy's side. Buffy's struggling with what it means to be the Slayer. Dawn wants to know if she's real, and Glory just really wants her Key back.

Archiving: The Sandlot, The Crypt, and anywhere else that already has my stuff.Otherwise, ask and it shall be given to you.

A/N: The title comes from a Pablo Neruda poem. The line actually goes "all the graces of the daybreak" but I liked my pun.

"When you are old and grey and full of sleep,/And nodding by the fire, take down this book,/And slowly read, and dream of the soft look/Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;/How many loved your moments of glad grace,/And loved your beauty with love false or true,/But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,/And loved the sorrows in your changing face;/And bending down beside the glowing bars,/Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled/And paced upon the mountains overhead/And hid his face amid a crowd of stars." ~William Butler Yeats, "When You Are Old"

"You certainly seem to be doing better these days, William," Michael commented. They were each nursing a glass of very good scotch in the rectory. The minister did not drink much, as a rule, but the liquor he did have on hand was of the highest quality. Good scotch, he had confessed, was one of the small vices he allowed himself, as was good coffee. "As Abraham Lincoln once said, people who have no vices have very few virtues."

Spike, to be quite honest, had seen worse vices, and had met few men who were more virtuous than Father Michael. "I am," he replied. "Seems I've turned a corner."

"We do that on occasion in our lives," Michael said. "Ups and downs are common, no matter how well adjusted you might seem to be."

Spike shrugged. "Joyce is better, which is a load off my mind. Dawn's doin' good. Buffy—" he sighed. "Buffy an' me are okay right now. Her birthday's day after tomorrow though."

"Have you already gotten a gift?" Michael asked, taking another sip of his drink.

Spike pulled a small black box out of his pocket, passing it over to the minister without a word. They had been meeting a couple times every month, just to talk. Although Spike still wasn't certain that he could rekindle his childhood belief in God, it had somehow become important for him to know that there was at least the possibility. With all the evil in the world, it helped to think that there might also be a great force for good, other than one small girl, her friends and the efforts of a few men.

Michael let out a low whistle when he saw the ring. "I cannot see any woman being displeased with this kind of gift, William. You don't seem nearly as excited about it, however."

"Buffy's just turnin' twenty," Spike explained. "I want to ask her to marry me, an' maybe not right away, but I don't want to tie her down either. Girl hasn't hardly experienced life. Seems a bit unfair to demand she spend it with the likes of me."

The older man lifted an eyebrow. "That's the beauty of a proposal, William. The woman generally has the right of refusal."

"I just wonder sometimes," Spike admitted. "Not that I want to leave her, or that I'd want her to leave me. I think it would just about destroy me. But, I wonder if she wants forever, not when she's barely out of the school room."

"I think that's a decision you'd best leave to her, lad," Michael said gently. "If you're willing to wait for her, there's nothing wrong with asking now." Changing the subject, he asked, "Have you heard back about your manuscript yet?"

Spike shook his head. "Bracin' myself for a rejection letter right now, but that's alright. Didn't let that stop me when I was writin' poetry, so 'm hardly gonna let it stop me now I'm writin' prose."

"Well, if you're thinking about a different career choice, the principal at the high school is one of my parishioners," Michael said. "She's looking for a new English teacher, and I would be happy to pass along your name."

"I've heard they aren't that picky at Sunnydale High," Michael said wryly. "The death rate seems to discourage that."

He thought about it, then shrugged. "You want to pass along my name, that would be fine," Spike finally said. "Doubt she'll want me, but it doesn't hurt to give it a shot."

"No, it doesn't." Michael stood as Spike did. "So, if you aren't going to propose to your girl, did you get her something else?"

Michael raised an eyebrow, and then asked slyly, "I assume you're talking about a weapon."

Spike looked shocked for a moment that the minister's mind would even go there, but then he chuckled in appreciation. "Yeah, 's a new sword. She'll love it."

"I'm sure she will," Michael replied, walking him to the door. A sudden sense of apprehension caught him, and he laid a warning hand on Spike's shoulder. "Be careful out there, William. The world would be a poor place without you in it."

Buffy rose with a sense of unease. The day just felt wrong for some reason. She went downstairs slowly, seeing her mom in the kitchen. "Have you seen William?" Joyce asked. "You don't want to lose track of him, you know. He's so good for you."

Buffy blinked and found herself at the Bronze with her friends. Spike was nowhere to be seen, and she was beginning to grow concerned. "Have you guys seen Spike?"

"Am I my brother's keeper?" Tara asked in reply. "You really should keep better track of your boyfriends, Buffy. Love slips away so easily, just like our minds. It's so easy to lose."

Willow was holding a sword; she was dressed like a warrior. "Remember, Buffy, you have to be careful. You fight for those you love and avenge the hurt."

"I love Spike." Buffy knew that for a fact, and yet it felt hazy, unformed, like it didn't make nearly as much sense as it was supposed to. Did she love Spike? What part of Spike did she love?

As though her silent question had summoned him, Buffy saw him emerge from the crowd. "Do you love me, Buffy?" he asked. His hair was shorter than it had been in a while, and bleached. "Do you love all of me?" he asked as his face changed to that of the demon's. "Do you love even this version of me, Slayer?"

They were suddenly standing in an older corner of a cemetery, one of the areas Buffy rarely visited. The Slayer was not needed among the oldest tombstones usually, as their occupants rested peacefully. "Because I love all of you."

Spike was a little startled to find Buffy at his door at six in the morning. Granted, he was already awake and ready to go for his morning run, but the Slayer had never even expressed an interest in joining him. Yet there she was, dressed in yoga pants and a jacket, and looking way too good to be going anywhere at all.

In fact, skipping the run for exercise of another sort seemed like the better option.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you," Spike said, stepping back from the door to let her pass, "but what are you doin' here?"

It was a nice thought, but it was also six in the morning, and Buffy was anything but a morning person. Spike wasn't much of a morning person, either, but the world of work put demands on a guy's schedule. "It's early, luv, an' you've never said anythin' about comin' with me before."

She sighed. "I had this dream last night, and you were in it—and not in a good way, I might add. So I thought I'd check on you."

"Check on me, huh?" Spike asked, leaning down and kissing her thoroughly, something he hadn't quite gotten around to yet. "So how 'm I doin'?"

"In the kissing department, I'd give you a ten out of ten," she said, but the smile she gave him didn't quite reach her eyes.

Spike pulled her over to the sofa and sat her down. "What was this dream about, Buffy? Because you seem pretty shaken up."

"I kept looking for you," she said, not meeting his eyes. "But I couldn't find you. And then, when I did find you, you were a vampire."

"I don't know," she said in a soft voice. "Maybe it's just the pre-birthday jitters, because my birthdays all suck."

There was nothing Spike knew so well as the girl in his arms, and so he could hear the "but" at the end of her sentence, even if it was left unspoken. "But—"

"It's just that I had this dream before—before Angelus, and I had the same feeling then." She pulled away to look up at him. "Spike, just promise me that you'll be extra careful for the next few days."

"I don't, but you do," Buffy replied. "You do lots of things that I like to do, so I thought I'd return the favor."

The ex-vampire had a feeling that she was really trying to make up for the last fight they'd had. Then again, making up almost made the fight worth it. "Where do you want to go?"

Where he usually went often included a quick detour by the grave he called his mother's, but Spike wasn't sure that was something he wanted Buffy to know about. Yet she'd made the effort to drag herself out of bed this morning, just so she could make sure he was okay, so she could do something with him that he liked to do.

Buffy didn't like to run much, as a rule. After all, she got so much exercise between training and chasing after monsters that jogging seemed redundant. Running with one's boyfriend was a completely different story, however, especially when that boyfriend was Spike.

More than that, there was her need to be with him, to make certain that he was okay. The dream had given her a scare, if only because the feeling she had after she woke up was the exact same premonition she'd had right before the Judge had shown up. Before Angel had transformed into Angelus.

Granted, Spike couldn't lose his soul, but a nasty could very easily get to him, and Buffy was determined not to let that happen. Hence, the running.

Buffy was paying more attention to Spike than to her surroundings, which was why when she did look around she pulled to a sudden stop. "Spike? Hold up a second."

"I'm fine. It's just—" Buffy knew this place, even though she was certain she'd never been here before. "Do you come here often?"

They were in a cemetery, one of the few she rarely visited. It was mostly full of older graves, their occupants long since turned to dust in the usual fashion. Some of the markers were so old that the lettering had been decimated by the elements, and it was impossible to tell who had been laid to rest, only that someone had.

"Uh, sometimes," Spike said, following the Slayer cautiously. She had an odd expression on her face that he couldn't quite fathom. She was also heading straight towards his own private spot.

Buffy knew where she'd seen this place before, knew that it had been in her dream. She recognized the clearing, the trees, everything. "How often?" she demanded, looking back at him over her shoulder.

He had that look on his face—the vulnerable one. It was the look that always signaled the revelation of some deep truth, her opportunity to either heal or hurt. "I swear."

Pointing to one of the markers, Buffy could just make out the words, "Beloved Mother." "Come here sometimes because my mum didn't have a grave, you know? I just—I talk to her."

"Why would I laugh, Spike?" Buffy asked, honestly bewildered. Sure, it was a little odd, but her own mother's recent brush with death made her a little more tolerant of that sort of thing.

"It's not stupid," Buffy replied, coming closer to lay a hand on his arm. She was positive that it was the same place he'd dusted in her dream, and the sense of déjà vu was sending chills up and down her spine. "This—I recognize this place from my dream."

"We'll just have to be careful," Buffy said slowly. "I mean, it was probably just me worrying about this year's birthday disaster. I mean, I doubt it would be a Slayer dream. Normally I'd get some idea of the trouble to come, not just what would happen."

"Right. We'll all keep a sharp eye out, an' disaster will be averted. Or, at least we'll manage it, yeah?"

"Yeah," Buffy replied, but the sense of foreboding she'd woken up with was back full force.

The party was a subdued affair, much like Spike's celebration had been. Buffy had voiced the opinion that the more people who were present, the more going on, the more things that could go wrong.

Dawn was excited to be included this year. While she knew the memories were fake, she didn't think her older sister had let her in on the partying since Buffy was in grade school. This year, however, Spike roped her into helping him get the cake, and Joyce had asked her to decorate, and Willow and Tara had actually let her watch them do the protection spell. Of course, Dawn was well aware that it was all just because they wanted her to feel like she belonged and all that, but she'd take it. There was definitely something to be said for everybody worrying about hurting your feelings.

She had pretty much dealt with the fact that she was some thousand-year-old Key. That's not to say it wasn't freaky, especially thinking about a Hellgod coming after her, but Spike's words had given her a lot to think about, and she'd decided that he was right. Life was really strange sometimes, and it didn't make a lot of sense, and her life was definitely not normal. But the reality was that if she wasn't the Key, she wouldn't be alive. And if her sister wasn't the Slayer, Dawn would never known Spike, or Willow, or Xander, or Tara, or any of the others.

Dawn let out a shriek as Spike came up behind her and tickled her sides as they were all settling down to watch Buffy open her presents. "Spike!"

"You were lookin' all too serious there for a minute, Bit," he replied, grinning.

Smoothing down her ruffled dignity, Dawn gave him the superior look that all teenage girls had perfected. "I was thinking."

"Pardon me for interruptin'," he replied, not at all phased. Spike sat down next to Buffy, watching as the others perched in different places around the room. He let out a sigh of contentment as she leaned into his side.

Tara smiled. "We figured you'd probably be getting a lot of crossbows and other—you know, killy stuff."

Seeing Buffy's reaction to the dress, and hearing Willow and Tara's explanation, caused Spike to tense. He probably should have thought of that—should have gotten her something romantic instead of a sword. Of course, he still had the ring in his pocket, but he wanted to wait for a more private moment to actually pop the question.

Dawn insisted on Buffy opening her present next—a picture of the two of them taken on the beach, just before school had started. The sisters shared a hug, and Buffy whispered something in Dawn's ear that made her smile and look a little uncomfortable.

Spike watched as the other presents were opened, until he was the only one left. "Uh, well, hope you don't mind that I went for the sharp end of the spectrum, luv," he said, handing her the long box from where he'd hidden it in the coat closet.

Buffy pulled off the ribbon and opened it, her eyes widening when she saw the weapon. "Spike—this is incredible."

The Slayer pulled the sword and scabbard out of the box, and moved so that she could better maneuver. Of all those present, only Giles recognized exactly what the weapon was. "Spike, that's—that's a K'tok ceremonial blade. How on earth did you come by it?"

"It's a K'tok ceremonial blade," Anya repeated matter-of-factly. "Only female K'toks carry weapons. In fact, all the women are really scary warriors. The only way that Spike would have a sword like that is if he killed one or did somebody a really big favor."

Spike shrugged, his lips still sealed. "It was a favor, but I was sworn to secrecy. 's a woman's sword, though. Seemed appropriate for the Slayer to have it."

Buffy was still engrossed in her examination of the weapon. It was slightly curved, light, and was perfectly balanced. She could easily imagine jumping into battle with something like this. "Thanks, Spike. It's perfect."

Again, he shrugged, although the others could detect the flush on his cheeks. "You missed what's in the bottom of the box, luv."

Buffy raised an eyebrow and put the sword back into its scabbard, moving the paper in the box to discover a sheaf of papers. At her puzzled expression, Spike hastened to explain. "'ve sent it in, but I don't know if anybody wants it yet. Thought you might want your own copy though. And—well, look at the dedication page."

With a wondering expression, she did so, murmuring, "Oh, Spike." The dedication read, To Buffy, who made me glad to be alive.

Buffy moved to kiss him, and when they showed no sign of ending the embrace, Dawn cleared her throat loudly. "Uh, emotional scarring going on here. Can we maybe have cake now?"

Buffy set her new sword in a corner of her room. It was definitely going to get hung on the wall; she just had to figure out how she wanted to do it. Spike was lounging on her bed, watching her with serious eyes. "So you really like it?"

"I love it." Buffy smiled. "I'm a big fan of both the frilly and the killy, and I got both satisfied." She plopped down on the bed and gave him a lingering kiss. "Plus, the dedication? Major bonus points there, mister."

Spike's mouth twisted up into a half-smile. "That right?" He hesitated, and then said, "'ve actually got one more thing for you, luv."

"More presents?" Buffy asked slyly. "I hope it has something to do with you spending the night."

"Is that allowed?" His look was humorous, but Spike was quite serious. There was no way he wanted to offend Joyce.

She raised an eyebrow. "You could sneak out in the morning, before anyone else is up," Buffy suggested. "Could be fun."

"Could be." Spike was still procrastinating. He wanted to ask, and yet he feared rejection. If she didn't want to accept his proposal, would it change their relationship for good?

"Okay..." Buffy gave him a look and then bounced on the bed a little. "You said you had another present, and right now I'm going to make a wild guess and say it isn't you."

"Not exactly," Spike hedged. "In a way, I s'pose the gift is me." Sighing, he pulled the box out of his pocket. "Thing is, I know you might not want this now, Buffy. You're still young, an' you might want to wait. You might not want to be tied down, or maybe you're not certain about me."

He took a deep breath. "Thing is, I'm dead sure you're the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, an' I'll be here till you tell me otherwise. I already gave you a ring as a promise. This one's a question." Spike opened the box so Buffy could see the ring, a large diamond in a simple setting. "Doesn't have to be now, or even soon. We don't have to set a date, even. Don't want you to feel any pressure—"

"Spike?" Buffy interrupted, continuing when he finally looked her in the eye. "Are you ever going to let me answer?" He stared at her, not saying anything, having finally run out of words. He hadn't even really asked the question. "The answer, by the way, is yes." And, to seal the deal, Buffy held out her hand.

Spike couldn't conceal the slight shaking of his own hand as he put the ring on her finger. "I—" He stopped to clear his throat. "I was thinkin' maybe after you get done with school."

"Or sooner," Buffy said. "But that probably isn't a bad idea either. Tell me. How nervous were you on a scale from one to ten?"

"'bout an eleven," Spike said with a sheepish grin. "'s just—I'm a good bit older than you, luv, an' I don't mean just because I was a vampire for so long. I don't want you to feel like you're trapped, or that you don't have any options."

"I've realized that life is not a multiple choice test, Spike," Buffy said quietly. "If you keep looking for better options, there's a really good chance that you'll miss out on what was in front of your face the entire time. I've dated other guys, so it's not like you're the only one I've ever had feelings for." At the look on his face, Buffy hastened to reassure him. "But you're the only one I've felt this way about. You're the man I love. The more I discover about you, the more I find myself wanting to know."

Spike stared at her, the expression on his face nothing short of worshipful. "I love you."

Buffy didn't try to reply with words, although she thought she might have finally gotten it right. Spike was the word-guy in the relationship—he was the writer, for Pete's sake. She was action-girl.

Their loving was langorous, a journey of rediscovery and of promise. In some ways, it was like the first time all over again, as Buffy tried to show with her hands and mouth the depth of her feelings. She felt as though she was drowning, drowning in him, and it was okay because Buffy knew that he wouldn't let her go.

Spike, for his part, knew that this was just a beginning. He could look forward into the future and see—something. There were no details. Details were overrated, anyway. What was clear was that they were together; she loved him in spite of his faults, in spite of his past. Loved him enough to say yes to everything he was offering.

The story in the paper the next morning sent off all kinds of warning bells in Buffy's brain. Large massacres on trains heading into Sunnydale usually meant a little more than just your random killings. The whole thing just screamed "vampire," and Buffy felt the chill of fear renew itself.

"You don't think it's somethin' serious, do you?" Spike asked quietly. He and Buffy were cleaning up the dinner dishes while Joyce and Giles talked in the living room. Dawn was upstairs playing a CD from one of those boy-bands she liked so much. He made a face. "Strike that question. That many dead bodies is always serious."

Buffy handed a dish over to him to dry and shook her head. "I don't know. At this point, I'm just grateful it's something simple, like vampires. The last thing we need right now is another attempt from Glory to get her Key."

"How could she know the Key is Dawn?" Spike asked reasonably. "No one knows but us, an' we're not tellin'. Unless Glory manages to find out from one of those crazy people she's so good at makin'."

Buffy shook her head. "I don't know, Spike, but it's still possible. What if she cooks up another locator spell, or something? It could lead her right to Dawn."

"Don't know, luv. We just have to protect her, best we can. What did you find on the train today?" he asked.

"A big fat nothing," Buffy complained. "The police in Sunnydale aren't good for much, but they're really good at finding all the clues that I might have been able to use."

Spike shook his head. "Wish I'd been able to go with you. Maybe I could have—"

"I doubt it. There really wasn't much to see. Plus, you had Dawn with you. That's just as important." Buffy watched the water drain down the sink. "I really wish we could take some time," she said wistfully. "You know, to celebrate?"

The Slayer was talking about her new ring, which she'd been showing off every time she got the chance. The whole gang had gone to the Bronze the previous night, leaving Dawn with Joyce and Giles, as a sort of impromptu party. Tonight's dinner had been a quiet celebration with just the immediate family.

It had been nice. Except for the after-dinner conversation that centered around Hellgods and vampires, they might have been any other couple celebrating a recent engagement.

Buffy wanted a little more than that, however. She wanted Spike all to herself for a few days on end, free of responsibility. She wanted to not worry about school, with the test in literature that was coming up, or about monsters and demons. Buffy wanted normalcy like she'd never wanted it before.

"Soon's this is all over," Spike promised. "We'll get rid of Glory an' maybe go off to L.A. for a few days. Stay in a nice hotel, whatever you want."

Their kiss was long and hard, with an edge of desperation to it. They were all feeling the strain these days. It was like living in the middle of a war zone, and no one had a real chance to relax and let their guard down. "Wish you could come over tonight, pet."

"I'll be fine, an' I'll see you tomorrow. Want to pick me up at seven for patrol?"

Buffy nodded. "Sounds like a plan." As she headed upstairs to study, she studiously avoided looking in on Joyce and Giles on the couch. They might be sitting a couple of inches apart now, but their dishevelled clothing suggested something a little different than mere conversation.

She rolled her eyes and called out a goodnight. Having her mom and her Watcher together was definitely a little strange, but it was a normal strange. It was the kind of weirdness that might strike any young adult whose mother was beginning to date after a divorce. So it was a normal weird.

Spike flipped through the mail absently. It was all bills for the most part, but then he reached an envelope that was obviously from one of the publishers he'd sent his manuscript off to. He put the rest of the mail aside and then sat down heavily. There was a small part of him that wanted to wait until Buffy arrived so that she could open it for him. That way, he wouldn't actually have to read the words of rejection, would instead be able to see it on her face.

Glancing at the clock, he realized he still had about fifteen minutes until Buffy was supposed to arrive. He wasn't sure he could wait that long. Besides, if he opened it now, Spike could tell her the news, one way or the other, when she got there. Maybe that would be better.

Spike was just going into the kitchen for a knife to slit the envelope when the knock on the door came. Thinking that Buffy was early, he called out, "Come on in, pet. Door's open." Still bent on opening the letter, he was fumbling the paper out when something made him turn.

"Buffy? What—" It wasn't Buffy. Drusilla stood there, looking as dark and dangerous and beautiful as ever.

"Drusilla." Her appearance wasn't the surprise that it should have been, perhaps because Spike knew his dark princess. She might have sent him off, but his humanity would be an offense to her artistry. Dru had, after all, spent over a century making him into her vision of a medieval knight. "What are you doin' here?"

"Come to see what they have made of you, dearest," she replied. "You're all warm—and weak."

Spike smiled ruefully, well knowing that he was hardly a match for her. "'m happy, luv. Don't suppose you'd let me be."

She shook her head. "How can you be happy when they can't see your vision? Your strength?"

They were very similar to the words Drusilla had spoken to him on the night of his turning, of his rebirth. At the time, Spike supposed, they had been true, but things had changed. "It's a different kind of vision, Dru," he replied gently. "Think you could leave? Get out of town? The Slayer will kill you if she finds you."

Spike didn't want her dead. Even though he felt the danger, he was fairly certain that he couldn't kill her. She was too strong for him, and he didn't have a weapon ready to hand. More than that, there was a small piece of him that still loved her, just as there was a small piece of him that remembered the hunt with fondness.

It wasn't in him to kill a woman he had once loved, even if a lifetime had passed.

"Can't leave you stranded, Spike. My William. You've been blinded. I can make you strong again. Make you see the truth." Drusilla glided closer. "You belong in the dark."

"Not anymore, luv," Spike replied, knowing even as he said it that it was futile. Her eyes were hypnotic, as was her voice. He'd always been impressed by Dru's ability to take over someone's mind, but he'd never expected to have it used on himself. Attempting to tear his eyes away from hers was like trying to swim against a current, and though he gave it his best, the fight was over before it had begun.

The last thing he head was Drusilla's whispered promise. "We'll be together again soon, just like before. The Slayer will never love my Spike."

Buffy took the stairs to Spike's apartment at a jog. She was running a little late—as usual—and didn't want Spike to have to wait for too long. When she reached his door, Buffy realized that it was open just a crack, and the small nagging fear she'd had all day blossomed into full-out panic.

"Spike!" She catapulted through the door and stood, frozen, at what she saw. Drusilla stood there, Spike's limp body in her arms. There was a bleeding cut on her breast, but the Slayer couldn't see if there was any blood on Spike's lips or not.

It was a good thing she'd been training so strenuously. Instinct took over, and Buffy's stake pierced the vampire's heart before either woman really knew what was going on or how to react. In the next moment, Spike was in her arms. "God, no," she pleaded softly as she searched for a pulse. "Please, God, no. I need him. I need him..."