Chapter Text
The Scoobies have set up a little med station, like a bunch of wusses. Barely anyone was hurt - no one was even bleeding! A couple of bruises and scratches from the lei-ach demons tossing them around.
It’s so pathetic he has half a mind to leave. But he still hasn’t gotten credit for stepping in and killing one of the demons. Buf- uh, no one has even realised that happened! And for once soldier boy is MIA. So instead, Spike leans back against the doorway to the training area as Rupert checks everyone who got thrown for a concussion. Dawn is weirdly fascinated with the dead demons, peering closely at one’s face, and going to poke it.
‘So, what are we gonna do about, um-’ Xander says, nudging one of the dead bodies with his foot.
Buffy sighs, pulling Dawn away, who lets out a whine of protest. ‘Why can’t they all just turn to dust?”
The slayer looks… annoyingly pretty. Wasn’t she training? Aren’t people supposed to wear sweatpants or those hideous neon-sportswear things? Not fitted black tank-tops and accessories with perfectly styled hair.
He’s so fucked.
‘We can put them in the dumpster out back. Hopefully they’ll just end up in the landfill.’ Buffy continues, glancing around the room, noting Rupert with his little flashlight and Xander rubbing at his shoulder. Then her eyes land on Spike, and they narrow. ‘What are you even doing here?’ She asks in the exasperated tone she saves just for him.
Spike holds up his hands. ‘Was just passing by and saw those beauties coming in. Wanted to join in on the merriment. Hadn’t had a good kill all day.’
Buffy rolls her eyes. ‘Whatever. Give me a hand with the bodies?’ It’s less a question and more a demand. Like Spike would’ve said no either way.
At least as they’re lugging the bodies outside, he’s able to point out the (now visible) body of the demon he took care of in the training room. And it’s not like he was expecting her to go “oh wow Spike you’re so talented and thoughtful and sexy - wanna make out?” But her nod and: ‘Oh, thanks.’ isn’t exactly what he was imagining. He’ll still take it.
Once all the bodies have been dumped she’s clearly expecting him to leave, but he hesitates in the dark alley and she pauses in the doorway, glancing back at him. She’s surrounded by light and christ, she really is glowing. Spike hasn’t written poetry since Dru left, all broken lines and scribbles, but maybe he should pick up a pen again. At least that might be some kind of a release for all these feelings tearing him up inside.
‘What?’ Buffy asks, and Spike shakes himself out of his reverie.
‘Heard on the grapevine that those lei-ach demons were a hired job. Some big-bad wanting to take you out.’ He says and Buffy frowns - although for once not at him. Her hand comes up to unconsciously touch at the slowly healing scratches on her face. Something’s definitely got a piece of her, made her nervous. She hasn’t been on nearly as many patrols as usual, instead sticking close to home.
‘Right. Thanks.’ Buffy nods.
‘Yeah, sure. Anytime. For money, of course.’
She rolls her eyes. ‘Wasn’t thinking it was out of the goodness of your heart.’
Spike’s got a retort on the tip of his tongue (he absolutely does) but before he can say it, the slayer’s already walked back inside.
Fantastic.
Well that was about as much of a dismissal as anything. And it doesn’t sting. Not at all. They’re mortal enemies, they’re supposed to hurt each other. Besides, not like it was the worst night. He got to kill things, see some family drama that would rival his favourite soaps, and the slayer didn’t die. That’s probably not a bad thing? Maybe?
Rolling his eyes to the heavens, Spike lights up a cigarette, hoping the smoke will make him feel something in his chest other than just all this confusing, twisted nonsense.
He slogs back down the alley to the mainstreet, intent on going to Willie’s and punching the shit out of something, or maybe getting the shit punched out of him - something normal and routine, you know? But when he passes the front of the Magic Box the door opens, bell tinkling above it.
‘Spike, are you leaving?’ Tara’s quiet voice makes him turn around.
‘Probably already overstayed my welcome.’ Spike says sardonically, and she hesitates, eyes darting from meeting his gaze to focusing down on the pavement.
‘Oh, um, c-could I talk to you for a second before you go?’
He has half a mind to tell her to fuck off, and he would for any of the other Scoobies. (Maybe not Anya. They have some fun talks. Although if he did tell her to fuck off, she’d probably just shrug and tell him to go fuck himself in return before cheerfully waving goodbye.) But even though he’s evil, 100% pure evil, Tara’s looking petrified and earnest and she’s holding an ice pack against her nose. And maybe her dickhead father had reminded Spike a little too much of his self-righteous uncle, and maybe Tara’s hunched shoulders and determination not to cry in front of an audience had been a little too achingly familiar and maybe Spike should leave well enough alone.
But he’s never been very good at that.
So he follows her back inside, making sure to blow out a plume of smoke as soon as the door’s shut behind them. Because he’s evil. He can hear Rupert’s disgruntled huff and it makes him grin. ‘What’s on your mind, Glinda?’
‘Um,’ Tara shifts uneasily, lowering the ice pack and looking him in the eyes before her gaze flits away. ‘I wanted to thank you. For what you did.’
Of course the little goody-two-shoes has to go and make things awkward.
‘Punching you in the nose?’ Spike asks warily. Because that’s all he did. And if she’s implying anything else she’d better learn to sleep with one eye open, chip or no chip.
‘No, not for the punch. But what it d-did. For me.’ She glances at him again, voice soft. ‘Even if it, well…’ She gestures up at his head, obviously indicating the bloody chip.
Spike huffs, irritated. ‘Only did it cause I rather enjoy ruining the plans of sanctimonious pricks.’ He growls. But even though his warning clearly gets across, she only smiles, finally looking up to hold his gaze.
‘Whatever you need to tell yourself.’ She says sweetly, giving him a nod before walking away. Scoffing, Spike blows out another puff of smoke. Ridiculous. Although that is more backbone then he’s ever seen her show, which gives him a strange sense of satisfaction.
‘Hey, Spike!’ The kid pops up next to him, seemingly out of thin air.
‘Bloody hell!’ He clutches at his chest, mainly on instinct. If his heart still beat he’s pretty sure it would’ve flatlined. ‘You need a bell or something on you.’
Dawn rolls her eyes. ‘What’d you say those demons were called again?’
‘Lei-ach.’
‘And they suck marrow?’
Great, she’s in research mode. Spike’s about to turn and walk right out the door without a word, when he feels that tell-tale prickle on the back of his neck. The slayer is watching him. So instead he leans back against the doorway and takes another drag of his cigarette. ‘Bone marrow, yeah.’
‘But they don’t eat flesh?’ She asks, and he shakes his head. ‘How do they get the bones then?’ Spike sticks the cigarette between his teeth and mimes ripping Dawn’s arm off and pulling a bone out. ‘Gross.’ She whispers in awe, sounding far too intrigued for a human child.
‘You’re an odd duck, you know that?’
She sticks her tongue out at him. ‘People probably say the same thing about you!’
Oh, they definitely did. Although that was probably one of the nicer terms he got. Not that he’s telling her that. So Spike just rolls his eyes, looking away from Dawn and over to the Scoobies at the other end of the store. His eyes are on Buffy (no surprise there), but Dawn must think he’s looking at the star of tonight’s show.
‘It was cool how you helped Tara.’
Not again! Spike turns a baleful eye on her. ‘I didn’t help anyone. Saw an opportunity to hit someone defenceless and ruin father-of-the-year’s night - so I took it. Just ‘cause I’ve got this damned chip in my head doesn’t mean I can’t still try to hurt humans.’
Dawn hums, not really listening. ‘Ugh, yeah, Tara’s dad was awful. I know I get mad at my dad for not being around, but at least he’s not…’ She trails off, crossing her arms. ‘Tara’s a good person. She deserves better than that.’
We know how to control her problem.
Is this a joke? I’m not going to be threatened by two little girls.
We are her blood kin!
Spike frowns. It didn’t surprise him, he’d seen enough of humans over the years to know they weren’t all good kind-hearted saps. But being treated like that by your own parent - even vampires usually looked out for those they sired. Besides Tara… wasn’t half-bad. As far as humans go. She’d always talked to Spike like he was a person, and not just a demonic inconvenience. ‘Yeah, he was a pretty shit excuse for a father.’
Dawn looks at him, head tilting. ‘I thought you said you liked Tara’s dad?’
‘It was banter, kid. Although objectively - controlling people by raising them to believe they’re part demon and only their weird little cult family will accept them? As evil plans go, it’s pretty inspired.’ Just because the man himself was a killjoy doesn’t mean Spike can’t still appreciate the dedication.
‘I didn’t like him.’ Dawn says firmly.
It doesn’t really matter to Spike either way. Although… ‘He did sort of look like he’d just sucked on a lemon, didn’t he?’
Dawn bursts out in surprised laughter, nodding in agreement, and Spike can’t help but smirk a little. But then the kid’s laughter suddenly cuts off and she lets out a little, ‘Oh!’
Spike glances sharply at her - wide eyes staring at something across the room, but when he follows her gaze there’s no demon or ghost or other shit that needs dealing with. There’s only Willow and Tara. They’re off to the side, Willow cupping Tara’s cheeks and saying some sweet-nothing that makes Tara melt and lean in to kiss Willow. Spike turns back to Dawn, curiously watching her shock.
‘What, didn’t you know?’
‘Huh?’
‘About the witches?’
Dawn looks almost wildly between the lovers and Spike’s growing grin. ‘I… no? I didn’t know there was anything to know! No one ever tells me anything!’
‘No one told me squat, it was pretty damn obvious.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?!’
‘Not like we’re pen pals.’ Spike mocks. ‘Besides, it’s not exactly earth-shattering news on my radar.’
‘It is to me!’ Dawn practically shrieks and Spike winces. Jeez, dogs must hate this girl. But then what she said registers.
‘...Why?’
‘Well, it’s, I just- I didn’t realise…’ Dawn’s all hesitant now, cheeks flushing and eyes not looking at Spike or the wiccans.
Spike gasps. ‘Intolerance!’ He cries gleefully. The kid wasn’t just upset about not knowing about the couple - she was upset about them being a couple!
‘What!? No!’ Dawn insists, but she’s fiddling nervously with her necklace.
This was his Yoko-Factor Plan all over again, only this time he didn’t even have to do anything! Sure last time he’d used Dawn’s teenage petulance and the distance between the sisters to make Buffy feel more isolated, but this could really drive a wedge into this happy little family!
Only… damn. Then he’d been trying to split up the stupid little Scooby Gang to kill the slayer. He didn’t really want Buffy dead right now. Also she’d probably be insurmountably pissed off if he used her little sister to start drama. Again. And he’d already used up his get out of jail free card Dawn got him with that stupid attempted surgery a couple of weeks ago. And he’s not really interested in being staked. Well this revelation has terrible fucking timing. He’s just gonna have to appreciate his brilliant plan and let it fall by the wayside. What a waste.
Still, he could at least have some fun with the kid.
He sighs. ‘Gotta say, I’m disappointed in you, Nibblet. I mean, I’m evil and even I’m not a bigot.’
‘A what?’
‘A prejudiced little prick.’
‘I am not prejudiced!’ Dawn cries, offended beyond belief and Spike struggles to keep his mirth in check. ‘I’m surprised! I just… thought they were friends.’
‘Think they’re still friends. They’re just also getting it on.’
‘Oh my god. Never say that again.’ Dawn shudders. Spike goes to yell “intolerance” again, so she slaps her hand over his mouth - which shocks him enough to keep quiet even as she grimaces and dramatically wipes her hand on his shirt. ‘It’s not intolerance! Or it is, but it’s intolerance of thinking about- that with any of my sister’s friends.’
‘Sure.’ Spike says disbelievingly, but a slight smirk slips through and Dawn’s eyes narrow at him before she elbows him in the ribs. ‘Attacking someone who can’t fight back? Kind of a dick move there, Tiny.’
‘You’re so annoying.’
‘I try.’
Dawn leans back against the other side of the doorway, chewing on her lip. ‘I’m not prejudiced. I love Willow and Tara, they’re so cool and nice. I just haven’t known anyone who’s gay before.’
Shrugging, Spike blows out more smoke and the kid irritably waves at the air. ‘Eh, you have. Not everyone’s as obvious as the sickening lovebirds over there.’
‘Like who?’
Spike gives her an unamused look. ‘Well I’m standing right here.’
That was apparently not the well-known-fact Spike thought it was, since Dawn turns and gapes at him.
‘You’re gay? But I thought- what?’
‘Not gay - just don’t mind blokes.’
‘Since when!?’
Spike’s the one confused now. ‘I dunno. Why are you acting like this is a shock, you’ve heard my Billy Idol story?’
Dawn still looks like he’s knocked her over the head. ‘I- yeah- but that- wait, you mean you- when you were “with Billy Idol” you were with with Billy Idol?!’ She practically screeches and Spike nods like she’s thick-in-the-head (which, based on this conversation, she might well be). ‘But that doesn’t make any sense, how can you like guys?! I mean, you dated Drusilla?’
Spike snorts. ‘Not everything’s that boring and black and white. I’ve slep- uh, dated-’ the kid’s still what, twelve? He’s gotta try to talk to her in a way that she’ll understand but also in a way that won’t make her big sister want to murder him. ‘-dated plenty of women. And men. Any gender, really. Vampires, humans, demons, even a ghost once, although that was kind of weird, even for me.’ He and Dru always had a more open relationship. She was already sleeping with Angelus and Darla and that didn’t change after he came along, and he was only sometimes involved. Once it was just the two of them they were more exclusive, bringing others in to join them together. At least until Angelus came along again and ruined everything.
‘Oh. Huh.’ Dawn whispers. Spike’s known the girl long enough now (unfortunately) to know that she’ll usually speak her mind, no matter the consequences, and if she’s discovered new information she becomes unbearably curious.
Neither of those things happen. In fact, Dawn goes all quiet and contemplative, like she never knew that was an option before. Her cheeks are red, she’s staring at the floor, and she’s still clutching at her necklace like it’s a lifeline. It’s all very serious for what’s a pretty mundane conversation. Also her heart is racing.
Ohh.
Don’t think that makes me some kind of a deviant, do you?
Spike drops his cigarette and puts it out with his boot. It feels like there’s a lot of tension in the air. But he can’t tell if it’s tension between him and the kid, or if she’s barely aware he’s still there and is just radiating that amount of tension herself.
He should probably say something. But he’s really not the person who should be saying something. He’d probably just say the wrong thing. Who is he to the kid, anyway? Why does he need to say anything at all?
Her frantic heartbeat is only increasing the longer the silence lingers.
Spike clears his throat. ‘Anyway, you stop looking at the world through such a stupidly small lens of only liking what you’re told to and suddenly there’s a whole lot a possibility.’ He mutters, the words feeling almost foreign on his tongue. But when he glances at Dawn, she’s looking up at him with shining eyes and rapt attention. It’s an expression he’s familiar with, but one he hasn’t seen since… god, since he was seventeen? All that trust and esteem and the weight of the responsibility that comes with it. But the girl looking at him now doesn’t have red hair, and she’s wearing some bright gaudy modern shirt, and she’s not his sister to look after.
‘What are you saying to her?’ Buffy calls over, and Dawn looks away from him to someone who’s actually responsible for her. It gives Spike a second to pull himself together, to shove away any thoughts of Luella to the farthest reaches of his mind, and for everything to appear perfectly normal.
Only at the sound of her sister’s voice, Dawn goes rigid. ‘Nothing!’ She yelps.
Well, that doesn’t make Spike seem suspicious at all.
Buffy marches over, hands on her hips. Normally this would make him feel exhilarated - Buffy was giving him attention, and they were probably going to spar (verbally or physically, he enjoys both). But right now he feels more like he did the first time he got thrown off a horse - full of a hollow sort of fear, knowing that he was falling but not being able to avoid crashing into the ground. Dawn peeks at Spike out of the corner of her eye, guilt and nervousness all over her face, and he hates that it makes him feel something. But he’s not gonna snitch her out. Especially not when thoughts of big brown eyes and red curly hair are still clouding his mind.
‘What are you still doing here?’ Buffy asks him, and he shrugs indifferently. He wonders if the slayer can hear Dawn’s little relieved exhale too.
‘Educating the youth of today, apparently.’ He quips, but at Buffy’s glare, he gives her a mock, two-fingered salute. ‘And taking my leave.’
It’s been a weird night. Tara’s watching him from across the room, and Anya gives him a wave, and Buffy’s scowling at him, and the kid’s heart is still pounding.
So he turns around and walks away, irritating little bell tinkling above him as he rips the door open with more force then necessary. There’s an ache in his chest and a twitch in his fingers that he doesn’t know what to do with. Normally he’d sink his teeth into something, but snapping a couple of demon necks will probably suffice.
But as the door closes behind him, the last thing he hears is a quiet, ‘Bye, Spike’ from Dawn.