***************************************

She and Buffy sat beneath a crimson-leaved tree, playing Frisbee with Emma. And taking their sweet time about it, too, Spike thought malevolently. He caught their concerned, slightly bemused gazes and looked down to find that he'd clenched his fists at his sides. He folded his arms across his chest instead.

"That's cool," Buffy told Dawn. "I think one of the kids at the youth center is half Y'vharrnal. You should come by sometime; maybe help him with his college application essays."

Surreal. Simply surreal. They were more sisters now than he'd ever seen before, complementing one another easily and without rancor. This oblique torture they'd devised for him seemed, ironically, to have soothed that ever-present tension between them. How precious. He wanted to kill something.

Finally Emma collapsed dramatically across their laps. Dawn put her notes into her backpack, giggling as Emma slobbered over her oversized CWRU sweatshirt. Buffy murmured mushy nonsense and batted her gently away. They rose as one, sweet-smelling of grass stains and seasons changing. He withstood their chorus of goodbye kisses, and didn't wait until he reached his apartment to call L.A.

Angel grunted into the phone. "I'm going to stop accepting calls from this area code."

"What are you on about?" Spike jabbed elevator buttons at random and then began pacing the tiny square of floor.

"Let's just say I'm aware that you and Buffy have renewed your acquaintance."

"Yeah? Checking to see that I still got my soul?"

"You called me, Spike. Just like Buffy has. Repeatedly. For the past two weeks."

Spike froze. "What?"

"You didn't know? Spike, I just had to fax over written proof of your health benefits."

"My what?"

"Benefits," Angel said irritably. "Before that it was whether you'd been offered counseling to help deal with your new 'circumstances' - counseling, Spike; she was serious - and before that -"

"Right, whatever. Look, I want to come home."

Angel's version of a laugh. "It's Cleveland, Spike, not summer camp. What the hell is going on there?"

"They won't leave me alone! Every time I turn around they're there, all smiling and happy and I'm about to pop both their heads off like wine corks."

"Spike, we discussed this before you left. You said -"

"I know what I said. How was I to know they'd turn psychotic? They're stalking me, the silly bints. I can't get away from them!"

A new note entered Angel's voice. "Are they there now?"

"Here? No. They don't come into the building."

"Uh-huh. Are they interfering with the job?"

"Hell, no. You think I let them anywhere near that business?"

"Do they invade your privacy? Threaten you in any way?"

"Now you're just being absurd. They're little girls."

An audible sigh. "Then what, exactly, do they do?"

"That sticky-fingered sneak Dawn got my cell phone number, and they call me. And I don't answer but it doesn't help. For Christ's sake, today we all went to the dog park and this weekend they brought me tickets to see Victory Flag at the Odeon. See, they know. They trap me, always just 'coming along' or picking spots where I can't very well boot them out on their arses."

"So basically you're telling me...they want to hang out."

Spike swore and strode out of the elevator. Was this even his floor? "No! They're plotting something, the two of them."

"You do realize how insane you sound, don't you? I'm just asking out of curiosity."

"I should have known you'd be no bloody help at all," Spike grumped. Emma bounded past him as he entered the apartment.

"Has the Mencius nest been destroyed?"

Spike rooted through the refrigerator, came up with a lone bottle of Japanese beer. He took a long swallow before answering. "Soon."

"Look, maybe I can send a delegation from Personnel -"

Spike wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Mencius is the most powerful line after our corrupt little gene pool. Your three-piece-suit sweeper teams won't cut it."

"Then I don't know what to say. Look, maybe you should just wait them out. Believe me, Spike, you have an infinite capacity for driving people away."

He drained the beer. "Thanks."

But sure as shit the next night they appeared, coincidentally slipping into his corner booth at Circo's just as his informant departed. Buffy was clearly impressed. "I haven't been somewhere this nice since our dad took us out," she enthused.

"Which was like, 1997," Dawn informed Spike. He glared at her. She seemed oblivious. "They have a cigar bar here," she observed, wrinkling her little nose. "You're not going to smoke one, are you? 'Cause I will totally retch."

Buffy opened the menu. "Are they still serving dinner?" she asked him. He took a deep breath, wondered if he should start counting backward from ten. This, he realized, was why humans needed those ridiculous relaxation techniques - because other humans were so infuriating, especially when one couldn't drain them dry and go back to one's peaceful and private existence.

"I thought you had a job," he said peevishly.

Her eyes lit up. "I never gave you my card!"

Maybe he should start counting backward from a thousand.

"She's taking a some time off," Dawn told him, while Buffy rummaged in her purse. "Her boss was bugging her about vacation days piling up, and this way we can go to Six Flags before it closes for the season."

Buffy smiled a little self-consciously. "Because our lives just don't have the same level of adrenaline and mind-numbing terror that they once did."

"That's a shame." He ordered another drink while he waited for the check. After that first time, he'd wised up and managed not to share an entire meal with them. Just ten minutes here and there, even if it meant sacrificing a really nice rare steak in favor of ordering pizza back at his place.

"...So glad the storm finally broke," Dawn was telling Buffy. "It's been sweltering."

"Yeah, but you know when we get home that spot in the ceiling is going to leak all over, and then creepy Kyle from 3F is going to ask if we need his assistance -"

"What are you doing in Cleveland?" Spike interrupted.

Buffy broke off, staring at him blankly. "We live here."

"Don't get all paranoid, Spike," Dawn added. "We were here before you, anyway."

He closed his eyes briefly. "Yeah, I know. What I mean is, why here? You -" he pointed rudely at Buffy, "aren't a Slayer anymore. Why'd you have to find the only other Hellmouth in the Western Hemisphere?"

Buffy's expression sobered. "Oh. Yeah. Well...I don't have the super-strength, or even the backup witches or a stake-wielding carpenter. But I figured, hey. I've still got the moves, right? You don't just forget seven years of demon-dusting skills overnight. Really. I tried." She gave him a weak smile. "Guess slaying is hard-wired into me. So I thought I could help out. Do some good. Not on a professional scale, obviously, and to be honest I haven't had much opportunity -"

Spike let his disgust show. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Shut up, Spike," Dawn hissed. All Buffy said was, "I make a dent."

A few minutes later Buffy excused herself to go to the bathroom. Spike crooked a finger at Dawn. From across the table, she leaned in. "Now that dear Buffy is gone for the moment, let's you and me have a talk."

"Okay," she said, tearing apart a piece of bread and liberally coating it in olive oil.

“Spill, Bit.” It was the first time he’d used her nickname since he’d returned. “Tell your old pal Spike what Big Sis is cooking up.”

Dawn blanched. “Please don’t mention Buffy and cooking. There was…an incident.”

He ground his teeth and resisted the impulse to shake her silly. The girl always could drive him to distraction, in a manner that even Buffy couldn’t achieve. Well, fuck it. And fuck her. He didn’t have to put up with this bullshit anymore, from either of them.

"Enough," he said shortly. "You be straight with me now, else this game of yours is up for good. Got it?"

She kicked him under the table. "You don't have to get like that," she told him. "It's no big secret." Almost despite herself, she grinned, pleased. "You're family."

"I'm - what?"

"Family," Dawn repeated. "And we're gonna be here for you, no matter what. That's what family is for." She studied the menu again. "'Course, lately you're acting like mean old Aunt Edna instead of..."

She trailed off as Spike started to laugh. It wasn't a comforting sound. He laughed at her, his eyes hard and glittering and so terribly cold. He was still laughing when Buffy returned to the table.

"Spike...?" She looked to Dawn questioningly. Dawn shook her head and edged closer to her sister.

"What's so funny, Spike?"

He ran his hands over his face, half-expecting to feel tears of mirth. "You," he managed. "Family."

"Yes," Buffy replied. Why -"

"I get it now. All of it. Do you think you're clever? You think you've solved some great mystery, here? You ignorant, blind little girls. You perverse bitches. This - the kind of love you're talking about - you couldn't pull off in a million years of trying. You haven't the stomach for it."

He was shouting now. The other diners stared and Buffy and Dawn huddled shoulder to shoulder on the other side of the booth. The waitress hurried over with the check.

"Family," he said again. Unseeing, he emptied his wallet of cash and threw it on the table. "Jesus fucking Christ." Then he stood and left the restaurant.

***************************************

"Well," Buffy said weakly. "That was..."

"Intense," Dawn supplied.

"Yes. Definitely...intense."

They were walking to the parking garage on the next block. Even The Plan couldn't justify six dollars on valet parking. Dawn clutched the umbrella and pulled her sister under its meager shelter.

"So what's next?" Dawn asked glumly. "Serenading him at midnight with our critically acclaimed duet of 'Stuck on You'?"

Buffy pushed her wet hair from her face. "I don't...Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe we should just quit."

"I don't know," Dawn mused. "I mean, have you seen how twitchy he's been lately? Even before tonight's freak-out. I think he might be cracking."

"I think so too," Buffy muttered. "But this isn't what I had in mind."

"He's still here," Dawn pointed out.

And Buffy had to admit that much was true. "Yes, he is." She could see the dry concrete-y goodness of the parking garage in front of them. "Tell you what. Tomorrow we'll -"

Her next words were cut off as something leaped into their path, swiping a massive hand across Buffy's face and knocking the umbrella from Dawn's grip. Dawn screamed and jumped back, fumbling with her bag. Buffy adopted a defensive stance and set her chin.

"You know," she said, "I was almost starting to miss you guys." The vampire bared his fangs, in that universal signal for 'Hello, I'm going to eat you now!' Buffy beckoned him nearer. "Stake, stake," she murmured under her breath.

"Aarrgh!" Dawn tossed a hairbrush and a box of Altoids onto the sidewalk as she scrabbled at the bottom of the bag. The vampire lunged.

Buffy deflected him with a high kick he didn't see coming. It didn't do any damage, though, and he came at her with fury added to the bloodlust. She parried with a series of defensive moves that she'd had to brush up on since becoming the Extremely Ex-Chosen One. "Dawn!"

"Yes!" Dawn tossed her the stake and moved behind the vamp. He paid her little notice, until Dawn swung the umbrella into his side. Hard. Growling, he turned to her.

Buffy buried the stake in his back. A moment of absolute stillness, and she was terrified that she'd lost her touch, that she'd merely wounded him. Dawn waited, saucer-eyed, as well. Then he exploded in a cloud of choking dust. Dawn stared at Buffy.

"That was great," she said at last.

Buffy was panting with exertion, and she felt like she'd done something funny to her hamstring during that kick. "You know, it kind of was."

"We double-teamed him!" Dawn's voice rang with excitement. "It was Summers Smackdown 2004! Excellent!"

Buffy found herself grinning in return. "Stupidest thing he'd ever heard, huh?"

Picking up the umbrella, Dawn tugged Buffy along. She slung an arm around her sister's shoulders. "Spike doesn't know what he's missing," she said fondly. When they got to the car Dawn offered to drive, but Buffy declined.

Rain streaked the windshield as she slowly made her way through the slick and oily streets. The West 44th bridge had just reopened, she recalled, proud of herself. Old-fashioned slayage and not having to take the expressway home. On a roll, Buff.

She wasn't broken or beaten down after all. She could do stuff. And she could stand by Spike, stand up for him, stand up to him. This game of emotional chicken with Spike was tiring but worth it. She wasn't going to give up on him. It wasn't about being a lover or even just a friend. It was about being there. Not the prettiest words, she decided, but she'd work on something more eloquent in case he ever asked. There was time.

She wasn't going to give up on him, she repeated to herself. For the first time in maybe ever, someone wasn't going to give up on Spike. She smiled, the tiniest bit, at the thought.

And then she frowned because the steering wheel wasn't doing what it was supposed to.

The car was spinning, spinning, and she heard Dawn's terrified cry beside her as the landscape around them whirled. She dredged up every bit of instruction she'd ever gotten in Driver's Ed, and came up with fight the turn so she did, wrenching the wheel with all of her might and it wasn't enough. She wasn't enough anymore because there was nothing; no resistance in her hands or traction beneath the tires. Buffy grabbed Dawn and pulled her down as the ruthless steel of the bridge barrier rose up to meet them. The brakes screeched but didn't slow their momentum. She still had one hand on the wheel and one hand on Dawn, and thoughts fired in her brain, faster than she could process.

On a roll, Buff./They say the third time's the charm.../Dawn shouldn't be here. This isn't the place for her. And finally, as the blackness engulfed everything, even the hateful crunching collision of metal -

This is how ordinary people die.

Part 10: In That Rich Earth A Richer Dust Concealed

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