beneath you
part three

Bitty. His precious Little Bit was standing right in front of him.  He wasn’t dreaming; his little darling was really there.

He tentatively reached for her. “Bitty... oh, god,” he whispered. Something indiscernible flashed in her eyes, and suddenly he was met with a one-two jab to his jaw. He grabbed his face and cried out in surprise and (surprisingly) pain. That had really hurt! Apparently, Buffy had been teaching her sister a couple of things.

“Ow! What the hell d’you do that for, Nibblet?” he yelped, shocked.

Her lower lip trembled, and the look in her eyes screamed betrayal. “Don’t call me that,” she said, her voice shaking.

He frowned, tilting his head in confusion. “Dawn?” he tried again.

She shook her head furiously. “You weren’t supposed to come back; that’s the rule. Whenever a guy leaves, he’s not supposed to come back. You just can’t follow the rules, can you? Why did you come back? Everything was going right for once, and then you have to burst back on the scene! You can’t leave well enough alone, you screwed up, and I hate you!”

Spike flinched and he stared at her, his little Dawn, in hurt. Guilt overcame him and he reached for her again, shaking his head. “No, Dawn, please -- “

“NO!” she shrieked, squirming away from him. “Don’t touch me! I know what you did to Buffy! You’re a liar, you promised you would never hurt her, and you lied! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

Spike sat up, allowing her words to permeate his senses. His heart was breaking as he stared at the tiny girl, and finally he looked down, unable to face her angry accusations and hate-filled litany.

Dawn’s eyes had been steadily filling with tears, from everything at once -- the shock of finding him back home, the relief that he was all right, and the anger at what he’d tried to do. But as she stopped screaming and looked at him -- really looked at him -- everything else faded except her relief.

She burst into the tears that she had desperately tried to hold back, stumbling forward and dropping next to him. She threw her arms  around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder, sobbing against his bare skin. “I missed you, Spike,” she gasped. “I missed you so much!”

Spike swallowed hard and sighed in relief, grasping her to him tightly. He hugged her hard and kissed her forehead and cheek. “My Bitty, my little Nibblet,” he murmured gently, stroking her hair soothingly. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t wanna hurt you, I didn’t.”

Dawn’s weeping only increased. “How could you leave us, Spike? We needed you! Warren shot Buffy and Tara, and Tara died! Willow went all Psycho-Wicca and killed Warren, tried to kill me, tried to kill Buffy, nearly killed Giles, destroyed the Magic Box, and tried to end the world! We needed you -- I needed you, really needed you, and you weren’t there!”

Her little hands clutched him tighter, and he complied, holding her closer. “Shh, Dawn-luv, be still. Don’t cry, baby, don’t cry,” he murmured, kissing the top of her mahogany head.

Christ... Tara was dead? And Willow had killed someone, and tried to end the world? He’d never have thought... Oh, damn, Glinda was dead. That sweet, quiet little witch was gone. Dawn had been immensely close to Tara, and her loss must’ve devastated his Nibblet. Dawn had been right -- she had needed him, and he hadn’t been there. Just pour on the guilt some more, I don’t mind, he thought grimly.

Eventually, Dawn’s tears died down, and she carefully pulled away, peering up at him shyly as she wiped her eyes. “Sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly. Suddenly, she smiled, and her gangly little arms were around him once again. “God, Spike, I missed you so much! I’m so glad you’re back!”

Spike favored her with a gentle, loving smile, hugging her back tightly. “Suddenly, so am I. I missed you, too, Pidge.”

She pulled back again and scrambled onto the burnt mattress next to him, putting her hands over his. “Oh, god, so what happened? Where’d you go? Did you bring me back something?”

Spike snorted. “All right, I know you mum taught you that asking for prezzies was impolite. But as a matter of fact...” He trailed off and Dawn squealed in delight. Spike chuckled and glanced around the lower level, standing up and striding toward the remnants of his dresser. Fiddling with the drawer, her slammed his fist down on the top, then jerked it open.

Reaching inside, he pulled something out in his clenched fist before turning to face her. “I went to Africa, an’ I was sort of taken in by a tribe. I had a talk with the shaman of the whole lot, an’ I guess he sensed you were on my mind at the time or something, 'cos he gave me this to give to you.” He opened his palm and grasped the ends of a hematite necklace with an opal stone in the center.

Dawn’s eyes lit up and an awed smiled blossomed. She reached for it, holding it up in the dim light. “Spike, it’s so pretty! Thank you so much!” she gasped.

Spike smiled gently. “It was nothing, Bitty.”

If anything, she beamed even more. “So when did you get back?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. ‘Bout three days ago, maybe.”

“Have you seen Buffy?”

Dawn winced as soon as the words spilled from her lips. A clouded look and an unmistakable presence of fear and guilt had settled on Spike’s face, and he’d instantly grown nervous, turning away from her. Swallowing, he shook his head ‘no’ quickly.

Silence reigned for a bit, until Spike squeezed his eyes shut and turned back to her. His eyes opened and Dawn’s heart bounced at the pain she saw in them. “Don’t tell her I’m here, Dawn. I don’t... She doesn’t need me around to muck things up for her,” he replied. “It’s just best for me to stay out of her way.”

Dawn made as if to protest, but sighed at the look of solid resolution in Spike’s eyes. “I don’t... want to lie to her... But I won’t tell her you’re back. I promise, Spike.”

Spike offered her a tight smile, nodding. “Appreciate it, luv.”

“Of course, Spike. Anything, you know it.” Dawn stayed quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Um... why did you go all the way to Africa?”

He sighed, pointing a finger like a shotgun at his head. “The chip, pet. I went to get the chip out.”

Dawn’s eyes widened fractionally. “A-and did you? Get it out?”

Spike nodded slowly, frowning, looking slightly distracted. “Yeah... it’s out.”

The teen instinctively shifted backwards. She regretted it the instant she looked up at Spike and saw the hurt look on his face. “You think I would hurt you?”

Dawn shook her head quickly. “No, Spike, no, of course not!”

Spike sighed and sat down on the floor in front of her. He glanced up at her, giving her a troubled, but sincere look. “Dawn, I’d never hurt you, chip or not, soul or not, vampire or not. You’re my Nibblet; you mean too much to me. An’ if I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it by now. You know I’m not a patient man.”

 Dawn slid down to the floor, crawling close to him and sitting at his side. “I’m sorry, Spike. I know you’d never hurt me. I guess it was just... basic reaction or something. Everybody was always going on about how you’d attack the first person you came across as soon as the chip was gone, and -- “ She blinked, and stopped her sentence short. Then she glanced at him. “Wait... did you say ‘soul?’”

Spike looked at his scuffed combat boots, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a mischievous smile. He peered up at Dawn, his grin broadening. “Luv... can I tell you something real important?”  

It was raining again. She was beginning to get used to it, since it hardly ever rained in SoCal. It was actually nice to walk outside and see that the sky was pissing.

She stopped and rolled her eyes. She was seriously disturbed if that was how she thought of rain.

She was out on the back porch -- out of habit, really. Something had drawn her to it, though she’d tried to avoid it with every ounce of sheer will she had. The back porch was her and Spike’s place -- she’d first told him about her mother there. He’d originally come to shoot her, and she figured she might have deserved it now. Had she actually been that cruel to him in the alley? Had that really been her speaking?

Well... yeah.

She’d regretted it later, when he’d shown her compassion. He’d allowed her to cry, and hadn’t tried to tell her that it would all be all right, even though he had known that it had been what she’d wanted to hear. What he had done -- he had just sat there next to her and listened to her as she poured her heart out to him. He’d offered her his shoulder to cry on, hadn’t insulted her or laughed at her, and had told her that though she was the Slayer, she was still human. She sighed quietly as she recalled his words.

“I know you can run ‘round and protect the world from all sorts of nasties, but your mum’s another matter. She’s human, dealing with a human problem; her problem. And I know you wanna do something about it, protect her from it, but you can’t. All you can do is just be there for her. Believe me, it’s the best thing you can do right now.”

Maybe it was just for the fact that he’d been the only one there, and she’d felt the urge to blurt it all out. Riley had been God knew where at the time, probably with his vampire sluts and Spike, though she thought him to still hate her immensely at the time, had actually sat there and did what she’d needed the most -- he’d been a friend, without judgment or pressure.

Now that she thought back on it, Spike had been there a lot. He hadn’t been entirely concerned about Riley, feeding his blood to vampire whores, but he’d been concerned about how she’d feel if she never found out. He’d led her to that place out of some sort of duty to her. Now that she thought back on it, yeah, Spike had seemed especially smug at seeing her ex-boyfriend get caught red-handed (so to speak) and it was probably an underhanded knowledge she’d felt from it that had caused her to lash out at him when they’d gotten outside.

Or maybe it was the feelings of betrayal that just loved to reside in her year ‘round; whenever she had a boyfriend, at least. Goddamn Riley.

How long had she been out here? She had absolutely no idea. It was around one in the afternoon, and it looked like midnight. Which would be a bad thing, if the vamps in Sunnydale ever decided to come out of their hiding places.

Xander and Giles had discovered, upon capturing the only fledgling that had happened to be out two weeks ago, that all the underground creatures were freaked. Not just terrified of the Slayer, who had popped right back up out of her grave (for the second time, according the vampires that Buffy hadn’t gotten to in the last six years) and was slaying with a vengeance, but Xander as well, since he had been the one to stop Darth Rosenberg.

Modesty was not a word in Xander’s vocabulary at the moment.

Dawn had come home acting odd that day. She’d been on her regular Mom/Tara/Clem tour, Buffy knew. Dawn refused to say anything other than meeting a vamp while coming home, and taking care of him, just like Buffy had shown her. Buffy shrugged it off, figuring Dawn must not have wanted any attention for it, and even though she was proud of her sister for taking care of herself so well in a vamp sitch, she backed off and stopped asking questions. Dawn had looked extremely grateful for that.

Odd, Buffy thought. Modesty usually isn’t her thing. It’s like she and Xander swapped or something. 

Oooh, freaky. Maybe Xander and Dawn had switched bodies, like that time three years ago when -- Stop thinking NOW. 

That was not a place she should be going to right now. Although she couldn’t help wondering how her so-called “sister” was doing these days. It had been at least two years since she’d last seen her, and at the time, it had been kinda hard to talk shop when Faith had switched their bodies and the Watcher’s Council was trying to kill Buffy.

Enough about that, she was off the subject. Wait, what was the... Oh, Dawn, right. She was immensely proud of her younger sister. Dawn was a quick learner, and had managed to somehow inherit all of Buffy’s prowess and agility, though she was nowhere near being a Slayer. Which was a Good Thing in Buffy’s eyes. Her sister already had to deal with supernatural phenoms in everyday life. It would be much, much worse if Dawn was a Slayer and the Night-Bumpers caught wind of that. But she wasn’t, so Buffy really had no reason to have a wiggins.

Dawn had shown her the most beautiful necklace she had ever seen before. Smooth black stone with a large white stone in the center of it. Hematite and opal, Dawn had said. Her friend Michelle had gone overseas recently and had brought it back for her. Strange, however, that when either one of the Summers girls touched the necklace, the opal stone began to glow either a bright, vivid green (in Dawn’s case) or a shimmering, blazing red (in Buffy’s). Buffy hadn’t noticed before, because the changes had been so subtle, but she figured it out after she’d stared at the opal long enough. Michelle had brought back some sort of enchanted necklace without realizing it. They’d have to research this.

Silence. Nothing outside except that splattering of raindrops on her coat and the porch. No thoughts inside her head. Nothing but calm serenity.

It was okay to miss him, wasn’t it? She could admit that to herself. The jerk had managed to weasel his way into her life, and she’d ended up caring about him a little... okay, a lot. She’d cared about him a lot. And then he’d left. Just like the rest had. Only this time, it truly, truly was Buffy’s fault. She had finally succeeded in driving him away.

Attempted rape had been a shocking blow to her, something that she’d never had to experience, and Spike must not have known how to deal with it either. When Clem had informed her that Spike had taken off, Buffy had felt her heart drop. The one who was supposed to stay (no matter how much she’d told herself that she’d wanted him out of town), had actually left. She had counted on him to be there... she’d taken advantage of his feelings for her. And she’d still expected him to be there, even after she’d broken his heart and had tried (numerous times) to win hers back.

She sighed. She had the absolute shittiest luck with men. In some sense, Spike was right with what he’d said about her that night at the Bronze. She had been a Slayer too long, and she had begun to think she was immortal. And not only that, but she had begun to think that she was too good for the likes of anyone, except for whoever she blessed with her gaze.

She’d had her flings before she’d been Called (like Andrew Henson on her front porch, when Mom accidentally caught them necking and ended up grounding Buffy for a month). Then there had been Angel. And when she’d had to kill Angel, and she’d come back from L.A., she started up a tentative relationship with Scott Hope. That had been a flop when he’d dumped her right before Homecoming.

She’d ended up right back to where she’d started with Angel, even after Spike’s warning that they could never truly be together because it would eat them alive. So when Angel left, she’d memorized his plea for her to live a normal life and find a normal boy that could take her into the sun. And plop went Parker Abrams. Stupid womanizing asshole.

She’d found that so-called normal boy on her very first day of college, when she’d accidentally dropped a stack of books on top of Riley Finn’s head. But Riley had turned out to be not-so-normal as well. And if she was honest with herself, she had treated him like Rebound Guy.

She hadn’t really loved him, not like he’d loved her. And that relationship went kablooey several times, such as when he’d slept with Faith, believing her to be Buffy and not having one iota of common sense about the difference of character. Such as when he hadn’t wanted to give up the chemically-enhancing powers that Doctor Walsh had pumped into his system because he’d been so freaked that Buffy wouldn’t love him anymore without them. Such as when he’d spent the nights letting vampire chicks suck blood from him, then had the absolute gall to give her an ultimatum to choose her feelings.

Then there was Angel again, but it had just been a small kiss (okay, a kind of carried-away kiss) that they’d shared the night of her mother’s funeral. But before that, she’d discovered that Spike was in love with her, and had overreacted horribly.

The overreaction was justified when he chained her up next to Dru -- really, he could have found a better way to discuss it with her. But it felt beyond shocking that someone who supposedly hated her was actually in love with her. She really had been thrown -- Spike’s admission of attraction to her had brought her own feelings for him to the forefront and she’d had to fight like hell to push them back into the dark space of her mind, where they belonged -- never to be admitted, never to be acted upon.

Oh, she was a bitch, and she knew it. She’d been cruel to him, even though she’d seen the obvious pain and desperation in his eyes as he pleaded with her. He really didn’t want to love her, and it was eating him up inside. The truth was that she’d felt a jolt of shock when he’d said he would stake Drusilla for her. Drusilla had been his lover for the better part of his first century as a vampire, and even when Buffy had been hopelessly head over heels for Angel, she had seen the true love that the peroxide blonde had carried for Dru.

When she’d brought Angelus back, and she had found out that Drusilla had been fucking him instead of remaining loyal to Spike, she got the sense that Drusilla had just been using Spike as a form of protection. He had been so devoted to her that he would have gladly dove into a melee of rabid demons to protect her. The only thing Drusilla had seen Spike as had been a toy, a pet, a protection factor. And it seemed like Spike’s love for her had amused the vampiress.

Yet he had still loved her, even after she had made it quite clear that she hadn’t wanted to be with him anymore. And torn between his love for Dru, and his love for the Slayer, Buffy had come out on top. He had threatened to kill the woman he had loved for a hundred years, in favor of a woman that rejected him.

It had been kind of sweet. In a really sick way.

A shiver ran straight down her spine to the small of her back, and a warm tingle began to flood her stomach. She looked up, her eyes darting all around her. She knew that feeling. In fact, she knew it better than the sensation that she’d had when Angel had been around. This feeling was stronger, more familiar, more... intimate. This feeling was Spike.

This feeling was gone.

She frowned and stood up, and the rain began pounding down harder, drenching her. Her purposely curled hair, which had grown down to her shoulders over the summer, soaked through and began clinging to her face and neck. The wind whipped the remaining strands around her head, and for a second she felt like she’d become a Gorgon-like creature -- Medusa, specifically, without the actual snake-for-hair part.

Okay. She knew she’d felt him. She knew that she’d felt Spike somewhere near. But he was gone now, so there was no way she could prove that. Unless she was just going nuts. The other night, she thought she’d seen him, standing in her front yard during the thunderstorm. And now she was sensing him when he was very obviously not there.

She frowned. Maybe I need to go see a shrink.

Hah. Spike would’ve gotten a kick out of that. She shook her head and sighed, turning to go inside. She could’ve sworn he’d been there, watching her, like he used to.

Through the kitchen -- where Xander found us having a not-so-innocent moment; into the hallway -- where he told me I could ‘blow out his candles’ for my birthday. Which I would have done if it hadn’t of been for the gang; past the living room -- there’s the couch that stole his poor, beloved Zippo for about a week; up the staircase -- he left his duster hanging right there on the banister; into her bedroom -- where he carried me the night that I got drunk, nodding hello to Giles with a tight smile on his face, brushing his hand over my cheek, then pressing a soft, barely-there kiss to my forehead before leaving.

This was the bedroom where nothing had happened between them, because she hadn’t allowed it. This was the bedroom where he’d told her to start growing up the week that she’d been hit with that toxin from the demon, making her believe she was in a mental institution. The bedroom where he’d told her about Riley, both in concern for her well-being, and in hopes of getting rid of the Hulk. The room that he must have practically lived in the nights that he’d stayed to take care of Dawn when she’d been dead. When his pain had gotten to be too much.

She smiled slightly as she sat down on her bed. She still couldn’t believe that he had actually kept track of how many days she’d been gone. “Hundred and forty-seven days yesterday. Uh... hundred and forty-eight today. ‘Cept today doesn’t count, does it?” She wondered if Angel would have kept track like that. Or Riley, if he had even known that she’d been dead. Her father... definitely not. The idea was almost laughable with Parker, and besides, they had never gotten close except in the very physical sense, which she still shuddered to think about.

She’d been standing at the window when Xander, Anya, and Spike had had the confrontation in her front yard the night she’d come back. And she’d heard the fury, the hurt, the betrayal that had laced Spike’s voice. And she’d heard the smug tone that practically oozed over Xander’s holier-than-thou voice when he’d asked about Spike’s love for her. She’d remembered the wavering in Spike’s voice, had seen the tears shining in his eyes, had seen him crying against the tree in the front yard even before Xander and Anya had come out there. She’d known that his tears were both of betrayal and heartache.

She’d known in an instant by looking into Spike’s eyes then, that if he had known, if her friends had even had the decency to tell him about the spell, that he wouldn’t have allowed them to carry on with it.

Actually... according to Willow, the spell had never even been completed. She shouldn’t have been brought back. So... why was she back? Giles had told her that being the Slayer was her duty, but what the hell did that have to do with anything? She’d done her goddamn duty! She’d done it, and she’d finally been at rest, and then she’d been yanked right back into it again. But why in the hell was she back?!

She let out a frustrated growl and threw herself backwards, her head thumping to a rest half on sweet, dependable (and in desperate need of a wash) Mr. Gordo, and half on her fluffy, Comfort pillow. She squirmed out of her jeans, and slipped under the covers, grabbing Mr. Gordo and cuddling him close with one arm, and snuggling against the Comfort pillow with the other.

Three guesses as to who she wished the pillow really was.  

Shit. That had been way too close. He had just barely gotten away -- Buffy would have found him easily if he’d just stayed in the hedges for two seconds longer.

Spike had just been coming by to check up on things. He’d been doing it since the night he’d come back, the night he’d first seen Buffy in the living room window. He hadn’t known that Buffy would be sitting right there on the bloody porch steps. Damn, he’d saved his flammable hide just in time.

What in the hell had she been doing, sitting outside in the rain?! That dozey, brain-dead little bint, she could end up with bloody pneumonia or something! If he hadn’t remembered that he was supposed to be staying out of her way, he would’ve gone inside and smacked some sense into the girl for endangering herself that way.

Wait -- she was the Slayer. Pneumonia was nothing to her. It was like the common cold, and Buffy didn’t even get sick. He scowled at himself. He was being protective and mothering. The soul was already turning him into Angel, and he’d only had it for four months. Hmph. Angel had been a poof before the soul anyway. Psychotic, but an absolute nonce.

He made his way around to the front of the Summers’ yard, leaning against his old tree as he looked up toward Buffy’s bedroom. He could see her silhouette as she moved around, getting ready for bed. Suddenly, she dropped completely out of view, and the lamp went out. He grunted, satisfied. She seemed to have gone to sleep without any trouble tonight. Bitty was right; Buffy was doing well. He was positive that he’d know if she was just putting on another act.

He’d sworn to himself that he wasn’t going to pursue the Slayer anymore, and he was trying to hold himself to that. It was easy right now, since he was hiding his presence from her. But he knew that the minute she discovered he was back -- and she would, he had no qualms about that -- he was gonna fall all over himself like a bloody pansy to prove himself to her.

Oooh... she was gonna be really pissed when she saw him again.

When was he gonna stop being so goddamn pussy-whipped?! Every single woman he’d ever been involved with had all had perfect control over him -- until Buffy came along, and he still had problems trying to establish himself in her eyes! Dammit.

He shook his head and wished to God that he’d gone out to buy (yes, actually buy) some cigarette packs before he’d come here. Hmph, it was pointless smoking right now, anyway. It was raining hard enough that any smoke he’d been puffing on would’ve been put out in an instant. Looking up at her window again, he let out a deep breath. This was territory that was way too familiar to him. He had to get out of here.

“G’night, sweetling,” he murmured. Frowning to himself, his eyebrows furrowed, he turned and walked back to the crypt.

Stupid soul. Making him feel all lonely. He didn’t need anybody. He was fine with being by himself. Preferred it, in fact. Compared to being with his psychotic Dru for a century plus, being alone was a revelation, a blessing almost. He was happy being by himself, honest to... well, someone, he was.

Liar. You’re getting to be quite good at that, you know. Before, you couldn’t lie to save your own life. Or maybe that was just when you were lying to other people. You seem to be quite the expert at lying to yourself.

Maybe it was just him, but that had sounded uncomfortably like Angel and Dru’s voices intertwined. Angel and Dru intertwined. Oh. Oh! Ew, ew, he had the visual stuck in his head now! Crap. His nausea would start up in a bit, he knew it would. Well, he was at the crypt now, so it didn’t matter. He was alone here, nobody would mind, nobody would see. Bob’s yer uncle.

His nausea never came, so he just shrugged it off and crawled onto the sarcophagus again. He really had to go searching for a new bed soon. After sleeping on it for a full year, stone was just not a substitute.

He heaved his blanket collection onto the surface and spread them out, then grabbed his brand new pillows and tossed them over it. Stripping down to nothing, he hoisted himself onto the makeshift bed and pulled the comforter over top of himself, curling into a ball underneath it. Sighing, he closed his eyes, and instantly fell into a deep sleep.

Alone.

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