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Title: Untitled Fic For mr. monkeybottoms Author: Devil Piglet Rating: PG Disclaimer: All characters of ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ are used without permission. Author’s Notes: Post 'Angel' S5, 'Buffy' S7. Feedback: Reviews are welcome: devilpiglet@yahoo.com. *************************************** Part 3: Bones of Other Rooms Buffy retraces her sister's footsteps across the globe. Once the haze of grief passed, she contacted Giles and explained the situation. Deceased boyfriend, Dawn on the run, Buffy trying to fix a problem that had quickly spiralled out of her control. Just another Tuesday. Giles called in favors that Buffy didn't ask about to track Dawn's credit card. That got Buffy as far as California, where the card was maxed out and Dawn's trail went cold. But that was far enough - if she was in trouble, and found herself back here, Buffy knew who she'd go to. So tonight she finds herself on the red-eye to LAX, burrowing deep into the cramped little seat as she wonders what to say to them. She has no doubt she'll find Dawn and Spike together, orphans of Buffy's emotional shitstorm. That stings, but then, so did the Immortal's death. She should have found out his real name before - before. She and Spike had a thousand names between them - some she's ashamed to recall - but The Immortal was satisfied with little more than 'honey.' Buffy doesn't know what to make of that. Maybe nothing; maybe all that's left now is the mourning. This is the third time she's buried a lover; she's getting pretty good at it. She looks out the window, where a sprawling blanket of lights beckons. *** "I first saw him at the Ostiense station. The night I left. I was - nervous, and my bag wasn't packed right 'cause I'd been in a hurry and stuff was coming out of it and I dropped my Europass and I bent over to get it and when I looked up again - he was there." She's sitting across from Spike, in his big armchair; he deposited her here when they arrived home. He hasn't even bothered to shower off the Y'vharrnal gunk as he listens to Dawn's story. "He sat across from me on the train. The whole trip to Genoa. He didn't say anything, just...looked at me. And then on the ferry to Aberdeen. I spent a week bussing tables in New York and he was with me there too. The Greyhound to St. Joseph, the place I washed cars in Bakersfield." She rattles off each encounter dully and automatically, like she's recited this litany in her head a thousand times already. "He ever hurt you?" "No. I don't know if he can, since he's...a ghost, and all. Since I killed him." "Maybe you should tell me about that bit, Bit." She shrinks into the chair. "It was an accident." Another hope dashed. Ah, well. "I believe you." "There was some evil necromancing-type guy, right? Kraye somebody. So of course Willow has to get her magic on and Buffy has to get her Slaying on and the Immortal has to...I dunno. Be bait, I guess." "Not like he's good for anything else -" "-Because it was him the necromancer wanted in the first place. For some ritual - you know the deal. And I was supposed to just research, right? Like always. Junior Scooby 'til I'm a freaking senior citizen, assuming I live that long." "But?" "But Willow got called away by the Council - one of the Slayerettes eloped with Olaf the troll, you remember him - and I had to do the counter-ritual to strip the necromancer's powers. And the Immortal was there, and Buffy. And things got messed up." "Messed up how?" "Apparently, I'm immortal too. Which, okay, we all knew but kinda forgot about, you know? Plus, it's not like I'm still immortal." She raises her gaze to Spike's. "Right?" "Don't know about that, Dawn." "Um. Anyway, I had thought I was all un-Keyed - everybody did - so I was working on the spell to safeguard the Immortal while it all went down, and Buffy was off fighting the necro-minions, but then Kraye showed up and he summoned the immortal life force in the room, and...that was me." Spike frowns. "What happened? You all right?" "I'm fine, thanks to the Immortal. I mean, the immortal that isn't me. He offered himself instead." Spike narrows his eyes until they're slits of angry blue. "That's just like him," he fumes. "What?" "Going out all martyr-like. Saving the Slayer's kid sister, no less. Well, if he thinks that'll guarantee him an eternal place in her heart, he's sadly bloody mistaken. If I'd been there -" "Spike!" Dawn's scrubbing tears from her face and glaring at him. "He died for me. Do you really think he planned that?" Spike harrumphs - there's no other word for it - and mutters something unintelligible. "What was that?" Dawn demands. "Nothing." She places her hands on her hips, and as expected, Spike folds. "'S my job," he mumbles. "Huh?" "Dying for you. The both of you. That's my job, not his. Interfering, overreaching son of a -" "Spike," Dawn says firmly. The urge to smack him for his callousness has passed, and now she knows what she's dealing with. She takes a chance and leaves the armchair to sit next to him. He eyes her balefully, suspiciously, but doesn't move away. "You did it better, you know," she tells him. "You saved all of us, not just me and Buffy. You saved the whole world, and nobody is ever going to forget that. Or you." Spike grunts and looks away. It's quiet for a moment, in his dark apartment. "Sorry for what you went through," Spike offers, and Dawn knows that he doesn't regret the Immortal's death, but her part in it. She smiles weakly. "You didn't kill him, though," Spike continues. "You must know that." "I think it's a matter of perspective," she answers. "I don't think the Immortal is feeling very open-minded these days." "That's his problem, then," Spike says immediately. "He ought to just get over it. Being dead. Me and your sister did, and look how we turned out." Dawn coughed politely. "So you see him all the time, now?" Spike asks her. "All the time. Why do you think I haven't left the house? Don't get me wrong, your place is nice - especially with the plasma TV - but normally I'd be on my third trip to the Grove by now." "True," Spike acknowledges. "I'll ask around, then. Got a few people might know how to get that wanker off your back for good." "Don't call him that," Dawn admonishes softly. "He was...nice to me." Her voice is sharper as she adds, "he didn't just forget about me once he got into Buffy's pants." Spike clears his throat. "Right." "Why do you think he doesn't come in here?" She expects him to tell her he doesn't know, or that it's the vampire equivalent of the Mason-Dixon line, or something. But instead he sits up straight, throws an arm over her side of the couch. "'Cause he knows I'm here. Protecting you." Dawn edges closer, and Spike turns on Dr. 90210 - he likes the surgery footage. It's only minutes later that she finds her head on his knee as he strokes her hair. "It's going to be okay," he whispers, and she falls asleep because she believes him. Part 4: Not Every Saint is a Fool |