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Chapter Text

RELUCTANTLY CROUCHED AT THE STARTING LINE, Riley prepared for his day. It was difficult living here: stressful and life consuming. That's what he liked about it, this place distracted him from the feelings trying to catch up to him.

ENGINES PUMPING AND THUMPING IN TIME, his fellow soldiers fighting for the top spot. THE GREEN LIGHT FLASHES, THE FLAGS GO UP. CHURNING AND BURNING, THEY YEARN FOR THE CUP.

Is the prize not worthy of fighting for? Is it not worth it to impress the high ranking officers and get pulled into a sophisticated and superior section? This sort of extreme boot camp was made especially for secret organizations, like the one he came from, to find men and women that can handle it.

THEY DEFTLY MANEUVER AND MUSCLE FOR RANK, one upping and overstepping all opponents. He hadn't eaten all day, FUEL BURNING FAST ON AN EMPTY TANK. But that's good, it builds up his endurance, his tolerance for pain. He had to be better than all of them. Better than everyone... even her.

RECKLESS AND WILD, these people so willing to live a lie. THEY POUR THROUGH THE TURNS, a race against time, THEIR PROWESS IS POTENT, AND SECRETLY STERN.

That's the whole point, is it not? Secret. It's all a secret. The American people can't know what they do, their friends can’t know the truth of their job, their coworkers can’t know the truth of what is coming, people can't know the truth they desperately run from. He can not know the truth of her.

AS THEY SPEED THROUGH THE FINISH, THE FLAGS GO DOWN. THE FANS GET UP AND THEY GET OUT OF TOWN. There is no one to impress, that day is done. THE ARENA IS EMPTY EXCEPT FOR ONE MAN. A soldier from the country who trained on a hellmouth, STILL DRIVING AS STRIVING AS FAST AS HE CAN.

No one there to see him, nothing more to accomplish, but he can't stop. THE SUN HAS GONE DOWN AND THE MOON HAS COME UP, AND LONG AGO SOMEBODY LEFT WITH THE CUP, BUT HE'S DRIVING AND STRIVING AND HUGGING THE TURNS, AND THINKING OF SOMEONE FOR WHOM HE STILL BURNS. 

He can't get her out of his head, the beautiful slayer who was stronger than he could ever pretend to be. She wouldn't leave him, so he pushed and pushed and kept on going. He kept fighting with his body to keep her out of his mind.

HE'S GOING THE DISTANCE, training and fighting. HE'S GOING FOR SPEED, for agility, for strength. He is still stinging from being weaker than his lover. But while he’s striving to be better, SHE'S ALL ALONE. Everything has gone wrong, her mother dead and her sister out of control, and she is ALL ALONE IN HER TIME OF NEED.

Why? BECAUSE HE'S RACING AND PACING AND PLOTTING THE COURSE. HE'S FIGHTING AND BITING AND RIDING ON HIS HORSE. And the one man who wants to help the girl who has never been needy is pushed away - a monster, a freak - yet HE'S GOING THE DISTANCE, NO TROPHIES, NO FLOWERS, NO FLASHBULBS, NO WINE. Spike gets no reward for his troubles, but keeps going, for her. And Dawn.

Still Riley... HE'S HAUNTED BY SOMETHING HE CAN NOT DEFINE. BOWEL-SHAKING EARTHQUAKES OF DOUBT AND REMORSE ASSAIL HIM, IMPALE HIM really, WITH MONSTER TRUCK FORCE. So he pushes himself too far in order to push her away.

IN HIS MIND HE'S STILL DRIVING, STILL MAKING THE GRADE. No peace from a constant run from one's feelings. SHE'S HOPING IN TIME THAT HER MEMORIES WILL FADE.

But he doesn't know that, he's gone, he gave an ultimatum and she didn’t take it. She changed her mind, ran to find him, but she was too late. He never knew how she saw him fly away, or how she cried into the arms of the vampire who found her there, the soulless beast who looked more and more like a man every day.

Riley doesn't know any of this, 'CAUSE HE'S RACING AND PACING AND PLOTTING THE COURSE, HE'S FIGHTING AND BITING AND RIDING ON HIS HORSE. THE SUN HAS GONE DOWN AND THE MOON HAS COME UP, somebody calls for him to go to sleep but he doesn't hear. He knows what they must have said, AND LONG AGO SOMEBODY LEFT WITH THE CUP, but he can not stop.

He's so tired BUT HE'S STRIVING AND DRIVING AND HUGGING THE TURNS, AND THINKING OF SOMEONE FOR WHOM HE STILL BURNS.

She's at home all alone looking out her window, watching the leather that is paces back and forth. He saw that night the cracks on her strength, and ever since then he has been there. She won't let him in while her sister is there, so he sits outside and waits for her to let him help. He stands and watches over Buffy and Dawn, waiting for the day that Buffy wants it over, so that he can be there to keep it going. Whether she wants to kill herself, push everyone away, give up and never get out of bed... no matter how she breaks, he will be there to fix it. To help her fix herself. To keep her life going until she decides to get back to it.

Yet another thing Riley doesn't know ‘CAUSE HE'S GOING THE DISTANCE, HE'S GOING FOR SPEED. SHE'S ALL ALONE, ALL ALONE IN HER TIME OF NEED. Except she's not. She thinks she is, Riley thinks she is. Only Spike and Dawn know she's not, only they know that Spike will do anything for her.

Dawn has even been behaving better since Spike's been around. They have grown close, being the only one to acknowledge the pain Buffy is going through. The only reason Dawn even saw it was because Spike told her.

Riley could go back and find all this out but he won't BECAUSE HE'S RACING AND PACING AND PLOTTING THE COURSE, HE'S FIGHTING AND BITING AND RIDING ON HIS HORSE.

He hates her, the blond bimbo who HE'S RACING AND PACING AND PLOTTING THE CORSE to forget. HE'S FIGHTING AND BITING AND pushing her away as roughly as he can. RIDING ON HIS HORSE, he screams at the bitch who caught him, who bested him!

HE'S GOING THE DISTANCE, pushing his body to the point of passing out just to keep the hatred fueling him so that he can't wake up and understand that he misses her so badly he could explode, so much he could cry, so much he could scream! She did this to him!

HE'S GOING FOR SPEED. Maybe he can outrun every feeling lapping at his heels, every image slapping his legs, every single flash of her that tries to get to him. HE'S GOING THE DISTANCE, running and running and then...

Stops. He is slammed by her, and he knows that he has to go back. He'll finish up here, get a job, and go back to her. Maybe she'll go with him.

Yes, she'd love to be his sidekick, his loving wife who can keep up.

Chapter Text

"Miss Summers," Buffy mocked, her voice haughty. "Some of us are here to learn, professor!"

She was at a graveyard at night, one of the least surprising places to find her. What was surprising, however, was the vampire she'd allowed to tail her and talk her ear off all night.

"Sounds like a right bitch indeed," Spike said. He watched her kick, punch and duck as she fought a fledge.

"Maybe you'd like to teach your own class!" Buffy mocked again as she grabbed her opponent, spinning him into a headstone.

Spike flung himself over that headstone, staking the other vampire while he was dodging a hit from the slayer.

"Why did you do that?" Buffy asked while lowering her arms.

"Not for money, if that's what you're thinking. Your heartfelt gratitude's plenty." Spike paused. "I expect I'll be getting that any moment."

"You're so annoying." Buffy rolled her eyes almost affectionately. "Gratitude for what, for getting in my way?"

"Getting in your way?" Spike clutched at his chest. "I saved you. The damsel was in distress."

"The only thing distressing me was telling you about my stupid professor." Buffy pouted as she dusted off her pants. "I didn't need you to do that."

Spike stepped beside Buffy as she began walking towards the next row of headstones. "You never know. He could have had a talent for lulling you right into a false sense of security, and bam, late night snack."

Buffy scoffed to keep in her giggle. "Just don't let it happen again."

Spike didn't jump into her next fight, but he did keep up a constant narration as if he were watching a wrestling match. Buffy dragged the fight out, enjoying the oddly specific things he was able to come up with as well as the dramatic voices he chose to use.

Once the dust settled, Buffy let herself take a few needed breaths. "You know what, Spike? The more I get to know you, the gladder I am that I have."

She liked the soft smile that graced his face at that.

…

Spike startled awake in his crypt. Buffy was standing beside him, too close and too silent for the look that was on her face. His eyes crossed the room to where her mom and sister were awkwardly tucked away by the door. He wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to act in front of them now that his dynamic with Buffy had changed, so Spike rubbed the sleep from his eyes and observed them. 

"Oh, it's the Slayer. For a second there I was worried. So, what's with the family outing?"

Buffy shifted, bringing her body as close to his as could be considered appropriate. "I need your help."

Spike kept his face neutral as he whispered to just her. "Of course, anything."

Buffy's lip trembled as she answered him. "She was in my house. She saw my mom and my sister and… You're the only one strong enough to protect them."

Spike nodded, his brain working to come up with an idea. He got up and moved towards the other people in the room. "Ladies, come on in. There's plenty of blood in the fridge."

Dawn sputtered. "Do you mean, like, real blood?"

Spike grinned at her. "What do you think?"

"Mostly, I think ew," Dawn said, scrunching up her nose.

Buffy came to talk quietly with her mother. "Keep Dawn here as long as you can. I'll be back soon."

Spike stepped outside the crypt with Buffy, out of view of her family. "Pet, are you alright? Did she hurt you?"

"No," Buffy swallowed heavily. "She just talked and threatened. I was so scared. She could have done anything to them and I couldn't have stopped her."

Spike said her name quietly as he gathered her up in his arms. They stayed there for a moment, just feeling the hug they both needed.

"Kick ass, Buffy," Spike said, sending her off to face the hellgod that was both arrogant and stupid enough to threaten the people that made Buffy the best slayer he'd ever seen.

…

It was weeks later when Spike just so happened to be outside the Summers household at just the right time, which meant he was able to catch Dawn as she slipped out of the house. His voice was low and conspiratorial as he questioned her. "Shouldn't you be tucked away in your beddy-bye? All warm and safe where nothing can eat you?"

Dawn giggled. "Is that supposed to scare me?"

Spike leaned back in mock irritation. "Little tremble wouldn't hurt."

"Sorry, it's just—" Dawn scoffed at him. "Come on. I'm badder than you."

Spike gasped. "Are not!"

"Am too," Dawn argued. "You're standing in the bushes hugging a bent box of chocolates, and I'm—"

"You're what?" Spike interrupted. "Sneaking out to braid hair and watch Teletubbies with your mates?"

"No," Dawn said softly, looking back at the house. "I'm breaking into the magic shop."

Spike frowned. "Magic shop, eh? All number of beasties between here and there. Bet they'd really go for a little red riding hood like you. Bet that wouldn't sit too well with big sister."

Dawn tried to look confident. "I can take care of myself."

Dawn bit her lip to hide her smile. "You wanna come steal some stuff?"

Spike grinned back at her. "Yeah, all right."

…

Buffy burst into Spike's crypt, anger radiating off of her entire being.

Spike was sitting atop a coffin, repainting his nails. "Was wondering how long it would take for you to get here."

Buffy ignored his words, grabbing the lid to pull it out from under him, holding it steady as he tumbled into the box.

"Hey, careful!" Spike shouted and held up his hands. "These are wet."

Buffy slid the lid back onto the coffin and into Spike's chest, pinning him against the inner lining. "How could you let her find out like that? From books and papers? How could you do that to me?"

"Do what, Buffy?" Spike spat back. "Not let your kid sister sneak out all on her own at night on a Hellmouth? It's not like I knew she was a mystical glowy key thing. You didn't tell me, either."

"You could have stopped her from sneaking out in the first place." Buffy pressed the lid harder against Spike's chest.

"If kid sis wants to grab a midnight stroll, she'll find a way sooner or later." He glared at her with little effect. "You really think it would've been better for her to go alone? For me to have stopped her last night, and then she found another time to do it all by herself?"

"She still shouldn't have found out like that," Buffy protested weakly.

"And that's not my fault," Spike said. "You didn't think you could keep the truth from her forever, did you? Maybe if you had been more honest with her in the first place, you wouldn't be trying to make yourself feel better with a round of Kick The Spike. I really thought we were over that by now."

Buffy pressed her lips into a hard line, finding she had nothing to say to that. Spike watched her for a moment before rolling his eyes. "Could you let me up, then?"

Buffy nodded, lips still pressed together, as she stepped back and pulled the stone slab off of him. Spike got up, trying not to look as pathetic as he felt. "You can show yourself out. And I guess I'll see you next time you need something from me."

Buffy worked her jaw, trying to force words. Whether to cut at or to soothe the wounds she'd already made, she wasn't sure.

Instead, she stormed out and slammed the door behind her.

…

It had been tense when she came back to his crypt, and his laughter was cold when she proved his point that she was only there to ask him to come with her to find her sister since she'd run away again. They didn't speak the entire walk to the magic shop, and it was making Buffy's stomach churn uncomfortably.

"She tore up her room," Buffy was saying to the Scoobies. "She burned all of her diaries."

"The Dawnmeister Chronicles?" Xander asked.

"She's been keeping those since…" Willow paused. "Uh, I mean—"

"Since she was seven," Buffy finished for her. "I remember too, Will. We have to find her. Fast. Before Glory or the knights of hack-n-slash figure out what… who she really is. Mom's gonna stay at home in case she shows up. I figure we split up and sweep the city."

Buffy shifted her weight from foot to foot as she spoke. "Anya, will you stay here in case she shows up? Xander, Giles, you guys take the center of town. Willow, Tara, west side. Spike, you and I'll get the east side."

Spike nodded silently from his spot behind her. Buffy looked at everyone in the room. "Just find her. Please."

…

"Dawn!" Buffy called as she and Spike walked through an old playground. "Dawn!"

"Yeah, that should do it," Spike said.

"Shut up."

"The Nibblet scampered off to get away from you," Spike explained as he took a drag of his cigarette. "She hears you bellowing, she's gonna pack it in the opposite direction. Can't say I blame her."

They both stopped walking as Spike crushed his cigarette beneath his boot. Buffy looked down, watching the jerky movement. "You were right. This is my fault. I should have told her."

Spike sighed in frustration. "Look, she probably would have skipped off anyway, even if she never found out. She's not just a blob of energy, she's also a fourteen-year-old hormone bomb. Which one's screwing her up more right now, spin the bloody wheel."

He set his hand on Buffy's shoulder. "You'll find her, just in the nick of time. That's what you hero types do."

"I'm sorry I blamed you," Buffy said, finally looking at him. "And that I wouldn't apologize. Until, um, the now."

Spike nodded in understanding. "You'll find her."

"And then what?" Buffy asked.

"And then life goes on." Spike shrugged, letting his arm drop. "It has a way of steamrolling forward. And she'll be right there for all of it, because she's real, and she's family. Buffy…"

Spike paused, seeming almost reluctant to say what he wanted. "I'll be whatever you need, alright? Scapegoat to be angry at, shoulder to cry on, annoying twat to beat on. Watch your family, cover patrol. Whatever you need from me, please, take it. Let me help you."

Buffy's throat was dry, and it seemed to stay that way after she swallowed. "Okay."

They kept walking, the air much less oppressive than it had been earlier during the night.

"We looked, but no Dawn," Willow said when they met back up with the rest of the gang.

"What about the carousel?" Buffy asked, looking to her friends for help.

Tara shook her head. "Checked there too."

Buffy turned to Giles, hoping that he had some good news for her. "Nothing?"

"Sorry, Buff," Xander answered.

"Anything could have happened to her. Not just Glory," Buffy said to the group. "We better check the hospital."

…

"Get away from my sister," Buffy yelled as she slammed her way into the secluded section of Sunnydale Memorial.

Glory kept a smile on her face as she watched Dawn run to her rescuers. "Hey, we were just talking about you."

"Conversation's over, hell-bitch," Buffy replied.

The fight broke out then, punches turning into grappling between the slayer and the hellgod as Spike gathered Dawn up and checked her for any signs of injury. Once he was satisfied with her lack of injuries, he ushered her to her long-time friends of the family and jumped into the fray himself. Grabbing Glory from behind, Spike pinned her arms to her sides. Buffy took full advantage of the situation, landing several blows to her face.

"I thought you said this skank was tough," Spike said.

That, of course, got him into a bit of trouble. Glory broke free far too smoothly, slinging Spike across the room and knocking him out cold. "He wakes up, tell your boyfriend to watch his mouth."

"Sorry, not really feeling in the mood for a game of telephone," Buffy punctuated her words with a fist.

"Hey, those are really nice shoes," Glory said when she caught a kick from Buffy.

Buffy flipped back, managing to kick Glory in the face while regaining her footing. "Giles, now!" She called, diving out of the way.

They all watched as the crossbow bolt Giles let loose bounced harmlessly off of Glory's stomach.

"Oh, please. Like that's—" She paused when Xander hit the back of her head with a tire iron. "Hey! Watch the hair."

She repelled Xander’s attack just as easily as she had Spike’s, making just as much of a mess in the room. "Time to start the dying."

It happened more quickly than Buffy could register, the tire iron flying through the air towards her sister, Dawn's screams as Buffy flung herself in harm's way, her quick amusement at how ironic it was that Glory was trying to kill the very thing she was searching for.

"Nice catch," Glory quipped as Buffy pulled the weapon out of her chest with a grimace. "Is that the best you little crap-gnats can muster? 'Cause I gotta tell ya, so not impressed."

Buffy took a couple deep breaths, trying to hold back her panic and find a way out of this situation. She righted her feet, readying for the fight again as Glory approached Tara and Willow. Buffy watched as they both threw a fine, glittery powder over the woman.

"Look what you did to my dress, you little—" Glory seethed before being interrupted.

"Discede!" Willow shouted, clasping her hands together, and in front of all of them, Glory disappeared into a cloud of dust.

Buffy could hear the buzzing in her ears, the adrenaline still pumping through her veins even with the threat proofed out of existence. She shook her shoulders before pulling her sister into a hug.

Buffy then turned to Willow, who had collapsed on the floor. "What did you do to her?"

"Teleportation spell. Still working out the kinks," Willow said, still dabbing at her bleeding nose. 

Buffy's eyebrows rose. "Where'd you send her?"

"Don't know," Willow said. "That's one of the kinks."

"That was an incredibly…" Giles cleared his throat, "dangerous spell for an adept at your level."

Willow blinked, seeming almost in a daze. "Yep. Won't be trying that one again soon."

Buffy was still holding onto Dawn when Spike roused. She felt herself grin a bit, at how annoyed he looked to have been brushed aside with so little fight. She turned back to Dawn. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

"Why do you care?" Dawn asked.

"Because I love you. You're my sister," Buffy said. 

"No I'm not."

"Yes, you are." Buffy lifted Dawn's arm, her hand still bloody. "Look, it's blood. It's Summers blood."

Buffy pressed her own hand to the wound near her shoulder, wincing at the pain. She brought her now bloody hand to Dawn's, linking their fingers together. "It's just like mine. It doesn't matter where you came from, or—or how you got here. You are my sister."

Buffy looked deeply into her sister’s eyes for a moment and felt her lips twitch. "There's no way you could annoy me so much if you weren't."

Dawn wrapped her arms around Buffy. "I was so scared."

"Me too." Buffy hugged her back. "Come on."

Dawn stopped her once they were standing again. "Wait. Ben. He was here, he was trying to help me. He... I ... I think he might have left before Glory came," Dawn said, frowning. "I can't—I can't remember."

Buffy took her hand again. "It's okay. Don't worry about it. Next time we see him, we'll thank him. I have to get you back home, though. Mom's freaking out."

"Oh," Dawn said. "Is she mad about the whole fire thing?"

Buffy grinned. "I think you sorta have a get-out-of-jail-free card on account of big love and trauma."

"Really? Okay. Good." Dawn bit her lip excitedly, deciding if she wanted to push her luck or not. "Does that mean Spike can come over?"

"Spike?" Buffy scrunched her nose. "Why would you want Spike to come over?"

"Because he had to miss game night last time with me and Mom. Some poker emergency, or something, I don't know," Dawn said, waving her hand around.

"Spike plays board games with you and Mom?" Buffy asked incredulously, looking over to the man in question.

"What?" Spike asked, squirming under the gaze of all the Scoobies. "Joyce has a mean competitive streak, and a talent for making a right good beverage."

"Sure." Buffy laughed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "What the heck. Your get out of jail free card is still in full effect, and you're just wacky enough to choose to use it on that."

Dawn squealed, dragging Buffy towards the vampire and taking his hand too. "Come on, Spike."

The trio lead the way out of the hospital to their separate vehicles.

"You think she'd raise my allowance?" Dawn asked once they were in Spike's car.

Buffy looked at her over her shoulder. "Don't push it."

Chapter Text

Spike was laying on top of his favorite slab of concrete, still as the corpse he almost never appeared to be. The bruising on his face was fresh looking, his clothes tattered and hair tousled. He looked every inch the victim of torture on the outside.

The girl coming quietly into his crypt, however, was a reminder of how not so tortured he felt on the inside. Spike turned his head to look at her, eyes only half seeing due to the fact that they were mostly swollen shut. Buffy sat beside him on the stone sarcophagus.

"What, trying to be irresistible or something, with all these sexy wounds?"

Spike chuckled a bit, pulling his body into a sitting position. "Yeah, I feel real sexy."

"Spike, I…" Buffy said, stopping before she really started. He took her hand and waited, allowing her to formulate whatever it was she wanted to say at her own pace. Spike was content just to look at her, to just feel her presence next to his. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I need you the way that I do, that I've started to depend on you so much that even Glory's scabby little minions noticed. They never would have thought you were the key if I hadn't—"

"Don't, pet." Spike let go of Buffy's hand, resting his palm against her cheek instead. "Don't apologize to me for anything. Everything that you're going through right now? Just the slaying alone could drive someone round the bend. The things with your mum and your sis thrown on top of it, 'course you're drowning. You're allowed to need people."

"But I got you hurt." Buffy looked down, willing her welling tears not to fall. "I don't feel like I can protect anyone anymore."

"No one can protect them the way that you can. A little regroup is okay every now and then." He used his hold on her face to bring her eyes back to his. "I'm alright. Besides, was worth it."

Spike moved his hand further down her face, giving his thumb room to gently rub her cheek. "Buffy... anything happened to Dawn, it'd destroy you. I couldn't live, you being in that much pain. I'd let Glory kill me first. Nearly bloody did. And it was worth it. She wanted to know who the key was, and that wasn't going to happen. Not even just for you, but for the Nibblet too. Neither of you deserved that. Know I've told you already… what I thought of Joyce. What a fine lady she was. You're her girls, and we've all got to pitch in in her honor, take care of you two."

Buffy felt the wetness travel down her face, and before Spike had a chance to take his hand off her to wipe them away, Buffy placed her own hand on his cheek. She leaned towards him gently, placing a soft kiss against his lips. "What you did for me, for Dawn, for Mom... that was real. I won't forget it."

Spike nodded his head, lips still slightly pursed. He laid back down, not sure if it was more from the shock of the kiss or the exhaustion of sitting up for so long. Buffy laid down beside him, resting her head on the least bruised section of his chest.

Spike brought his arm to rest on top of hers, letting his fingertips trace her elbow. "You've never done that without a spell before."

Buffy nuzzled her head into his chest, trying to hide her face. "I almost did when we went on that super obvious date to a vamp nest that was clearly not so hopping with activity."

"Was wondering why you let me get away with that." Spike beamed with only slightly contained mirth.

"I thought about it again the night of the funeral," Buffy said. "The entire time Angel was with me after, I couldn't stop thinking about how I'd rather be with you. Rather be held by you. Rather be… kissed by you. And how messed up was that? For me to even be thinking about things like that when my mom was…"

"'M sorry, Buffy," Spike murdered. "Don't mean to be making things any more complicated for you right now. Can back off, try and stay away for a bit, if it's what you want."

Buffy craned her neck so that she could look at Spike. He was surprised to see her smiling. "If I'm not allowed to apologize to you, you're not allowed to apologize to me."

Buffy readjusted herself again, bringing her arms up to rest on his chest and under her chin. "And you know what you were doing while I was off playing pretend? You were taking my sister home. Making sure she was fed, and she was safe. You even made her mom's special hot cocoa and did her homework for her. I don't… I don't think I can give you anything right now, not with Glory looming over my head, not with everything I don't have the time or energy to process. But after… if you still feel the same way, about me…"

"I love you, and I won't be stopping any time soon. Tried, failed. I'm in too deep." Spike tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Then remember," Buffy said. "Remember that this is real, and that I'll remember too."

"Yeah," Spike promised. "Yeah, pet. I'll remember."

"'Kay." Buffy turned her head to rest more comfortably. "I need to be back home in a couple hours. Don't let me sleep too long."

"'Course, luv," Spike whispered. He kissed the top of her head and listened as her breathing slowed and deepened.

Of course he would remember this. He'd remember this evening for the rest of his life.

…

Spike was leading the way through the dank space, Dawn trailing behind him, his limp still fairly noticeable. "No one's gonna hurt you."

"Oh yeah?" Dawn readjusted the flashlight she'd been holding. "Same no one who did that to you?"

"What, these?" Spike asked. "It's just a few bruises, nothin' to write home about."

He stopped walking, noticing how nervous Dawn looked. "Hey, chin up, Platelet. Don't get scared. Maybe Glory doesn't wanna kill you, maybe it's something—"

"Worse?" Dawn said.

Spike couldn't think of what to say to take his foot out of his mouth, so he started walking again. Dawn watched him for a moment before sitting down on one of the many large rocks.

He walked slowly back to her once he noticed she wasn't following. Spike put out a hand to touch her hair, hesitating slightly before resting his palm against the crown of her head.

"Hey."

"You wanna know what I'm scared of, Spike?" Dawn asked, her voice shaking. "Me. Right now, Glory thinks Tara's the key. But I'm the key, Spike. I am. And anything that happens to Tara—it's 'cause of me. Your bruises, your limp, that's all me too. I'm like a lightning rod for pain and hurt." Tears began to stream down her face. "And everyone around me suffers and dies. I—I must be something so horrible, to cause so much pain and… and evil."

"Rot," Spike said firmly.

"What do you know?" Dawn huffed moodily, batting his hand away.

"I'm a vampire," Spike said. "I know somethin' about evil. You're not evil."

"Maybe I'm not evil," Dawn conceded, looking hopeful. "But I don't think I can be good."

Spike smiled warmly at her. "Well, I'm not good, and I'm okay."

Dawn stood up, linking her arms around his waist in a tight hug.

Spike hugged her back, his hand patting her in an awkward yet comforting way. "We'll be not quite evil and not quite good together, yeah?"

"Yeah." Dawn flashed him a watery smile as she pulled away and started walking again.

They made it back to the entrance of Spike's crypt not long after that. He popped up to the upper level to grab them both a drink from the fridge before settling in beside Dawn to pick up where they'd left off in the book of John Keats’s poetry. She'd found it the last time she visited him and insisted he read it to her, pushing and whining until he relented.

Buffy arrived when Spike was in the middle of explaining to Dawn the disease that took the late poet's life so young. He gave them the space he and Dawn had been occupying and went upstairs to grab Buffy something to drink, too.

"It's all my fault," Dawn said when Buffy finished catching them up on what had happened between Tara and Glory.

"No." Buffy brushed Dawn's hair over her shoulder. "Sweetheart, it is not your fault."

"How's Willow?" Dawn asked.

"She was looking to go all payback-y on Glory for a minute, but I cooled her down a little. Actually, a lot," Buffy answered.

"So, she's not gonna do anything rash then," Spike said.

"No, I explained that there was no point."

Spike made a noise in the back of his throat.

"What?" Buffy challenged him.

"So, you're saying that a powerful and mightily pissed-off witch," Spike paused for emphasis. "Was plannin' on going and spillin' herself a few pints of god blood until you, what? Explained?"

Buffy frowned, looking back and forth between Dawn and Spike.

"You think she'd… No. I told Willow it would be like suicide."

"I'd do it," Spike said, shrugging his shoulder. "Right person. Person I loved. Yeah, I'd do it, damn how idiotic it is."

And she would too, Buffy realized. For Dawn, Buffy would go after Glory, no matter how awful of a decision that was. Hadn't she already, when they rescued Spike? Buffy knew better than Giles, knew that Dawn's identity was never in jeopardy while Spike was held and tortured for information, but she was still stubborn and swift in her recovery of him.

"I gotta go," Buffy said, rushing out of the crypt without even so much as a goodbye.

"Well, anyway," Spike said casually, picking their book back up. "Where were we?"

Dawn settled in beside him, closing her eyes as she listened to the confusing, old timey words she really enjoyed to hear him say.

Chapter Text

The back alley of the magic shop was probably just like any other alley in Sunnydale, in the sense that it was known to occasionally be hiding a vampire ripe for the slaying. It almost bored Buffy to step out and take care of that little problem, but then again, it was nice to be able to step away from the big problem inside for a few minutes.

When she came back to everyone, they were all still sitting where they'd been before, the harsh words from her watcher looming over the room. Spike was sitting behind the group on a ladder leading up to the upper loft, and it took everything in Buffy not to join him and ignore everyone else.

"Something goin' on out back?" Xander asked.

"Vampire," Buffy said simply as she took a seat at the table beside him.

"Oh."

"Anything?" Buffy asked.

"Nothing you want to hear." Giles fiddled with the books in front of him. "The ritual is, uh…"

"Explain it again," Buffy said.

"There's nothing new to—" Giles began, but was quickly interrupted.

"Go through it again anyway." 

Giles removed his glasses, slowly folding and placing them on the table. "The key was... living energy. It needs to be channeled, poured into a specific place at a specific time. The energy would flow into that spot, the walls between the dimensions break down. It stops, the energy's used up, the walls come back up. Glory uses that time to get back into her own dimension, not caring that all manner of hell will be unleashed on Earth in the meantime."

Anya spoke up next. "Um, but only for a little while, right? The walls come back up, uh, no more hell?"

"That's only if the energy is stopped," Willow said. "And now the key is human, is Dawn."

Giles lifted a large, leather bound book as he read from it. "'The blood flows, the gates will open. The gates will close when it flows no more.' When Dawn is dead."

"I have places to be!" Tara shouted, cutting through the tension with her outburst. She curled back into herself afterwards, mumbling quietly.

"Why blood?" Xander continued on. "Why Dawn's blood? I mean, why couldn't it be like a, a lymph ritual?"

"'Cause it's always got to be blood," Spike said.

Xander cut his eyes towards the vampire. "We're not actually discussing dinner right now."

"Blood is life, lackbrain," Spike replied. "Why do you think we eat it? It's what keeps you going. Makes you warm. Makes you hard. Makes you other than dead. Course it's her blood."

The emotion in Spike's voice at the thought of Dawn being hurt fed into Buffy’s own determination. "Pretty simple math here. We stop Glory before she can start the ritual. We still have a couple of hours, right?"

"If my calculations are right. But Buffy—" Giles said.

"I don't wanna hear it." She began to turn away from him.

"I understand that—"

"No!" Buffy whirled around to face him again. "No, you don't understand. We are not talking about this."

"Yes, we bloody well are!" Giles slammed his book down, the bang punctuating his outburst.

He continued more quickly. "If Glory begins the ritual, if we can't stop her…"

"Come on. Say it," Buffy taunted. "We're bloody well talking about this. Tell me to kill my sister."

"She's not your sister," Giles said evenly.

Buffy paused. "No, she's not. She's more than that; she's me. The monks made her out of me. I hold her, and I feel closer to her than…"

Buffy's gaze was drawn to the boots on Spike's feet, familiar and simple. The laces, the scuff marks, the mud caked between seams. When had she become so accustomed to looking at Spike when her eyes didn't know where to settle? "It's not just the memories they built. It's physical. Dawn is a part of me. The only part that I—"

"We'll solve this," Willow rushed to reassure her. "We will. Don't have another coma, okay?"

Buffy almost laughed, looking toward her friend and sending the redhead a small smile.

Giles sighed. "If the ritual starts, then every living creature in this and every other dimension imaginable will suffer unbearable torment and death, including Dawn."

"Then the last thing she'll see is me protecting her," Buffy said.

"You'll fail," Giles replied. "You'll die. We all will."

"I'm sorry." Buffy turned away from them, aching to be anywhere but here. Aching to be sitting around doing nothing with her sister. "I love you all, but I'm sorry."

That fantasy of a girl's night in was where Buffy's mind kept visiting for the rest of the Scoobies plan-making session.

They absolutely could not allow this not to work.

…

Buffy held Spike's hand more tightly than she normally would have as they walked together toward her home. She caught herself watching his shoes again, finding comfort in the steady pace of each boot beside her.

Spike squeezed her hand before he let go of it, jumping up her front porch steps to open the door for them both. Buffy cleared her throat as she entered. "The weapons are in the chest by the tv. I'll grab the stuff upstairs."

Spike was speaking to himself just as much as he was replying to her as he walked towards the chest. "Won't bother with the small stuff, couple of good axes should hold off Glory's mates while you take on the lady herself."

"We're not all gonna make it," Buffy said. "You know that."

"Yeah, I know that," Spike sighed. "'And I know you've known it for a tic now. You've been, ah, off since you went on your slayer kumbaya trip to the desert. Like she told you how this was going to end."

"Not exactly." Buffy hesitated, taking a step or two in his direction but not nearly bridging the gap between them. "She told me… well, she told me about me. That my gift to the world was death. And I guess I'm just so tired… tired of only being good for killing things. Tired of not knowing if I'm anything more than that."

"You are." Spike's voice compelled her to finally look at him. "You're everything. Not just everything to me, you just are everything. That gift of death sounds to me like you do it better than the rest. Not that you're a machine, seen plenty of slayers like that. That you're connected to the rest of the world in a way slayers usually aren't. You're full of life, and that makes the death you dole out different."

Spike pinched the bridge of his nose, like what he was trying to say to her wasn't coming out the way he intended. "You're not a thing, Buffy. You're not just the slayer. You, Buffy Summers, are intrinsically tied to life and death in the battle for puppies and rainbows and kittens. And it's the life in you that makes death your gift."

Spike let out a a long-suffering sigh while he resumed his task of grabbing what he could from the stockpile of weapons. He took them over to the door, setting them down before making his way over to Buffy. He stood right in front of her, placing his hand delicately on her cheek, his smile landing somewhere between reassuring and resigned. "And if we don't make it out of this one? Hey. Always knew I'd go down fightin'."

Buffy balled her fists by her sides, digging her nails into the flesh there to keep from crying. "Thank you."

"Of course." Spike's smile turned more affectionate. He gazed at the planes and contours of her face, vowing to commit them all to memory, to fully live in this moment that could be their last.

"I'm counting on you," Buffy told him. "To protect her."

"'Till the end of the world," Spike said earnestly. "Even if that happens to be tonight." He ran his thumb lightly across Buffy's jaw. "I know you'll never love me. Know that you're too good for it, know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man. And that's—"

Buffy kissed him, her lips attempting to convey in action what they could never seem to get across just right in words. She kept her hands at her side, knowing that if she touched him now, this moment would become more than she was ready to face.

The kiss ended naturally when Buffy's need to breathe became a hindrance. Spike placed a kiss on each corner of her mouth and one on the tip of her nose before releasing her.

They gazed silently at each other before Spike ushered her up the stairs. "Get your stuff. I'll be here."

And then they were off to prepare for battle once more.

…

Death...

Dawnie, I have to.

Listen to me. Please, there's not a lot of time, listen.

Dawn, listen to me. Listen. I love you. I will always love you. But this is the work that I have to do.

Tell Giles ... tell Giles I figured it out. And … and I'm okay. And give my love to my friends. You have to take care of them now. And take care of Spike. I'm not sure how, but he became a part of our family, too. You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong. But he'll be strong for you at the same time. Please let him.

Dawn, the hardest thing in this world … is to live in it. Be brave. Live. Live your life to its fullest. For me.

I love you so, so much.

BUFFY ANNE SUMMERS

1981-2001

BELOVED SISTER

DEVOTED FRIEND

SHE SAVED THE WORLD

A LOT