Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fan Fiction ❯ S W I T CH. ❯ Into the Dark ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

It had been almost two months since she had started her midnight-training sessions. Despite the fact that it had been her idea in the first place—a lame excuse to get away from her sister, and spend more time with Spike—Buffy had taken the bait, and not only agreed to let Dawn go, but had actually gotten into quite a good argument with Giles about it. She hadn't been surprised by his reaction. Stoney-faced, expression offended if anything else, brows drawn together and lips curled down into a frown. No, she could handle that. She had even prepared herself a good story as to why she should go to the Big Bad's crypt all alone and train with him. She hadn't needed to use it though, because Buffy had thought it was a good idea.
"What better way to learn or practice than with an actual Vampire?" she had quipped, upon Giles's blatant rejection of the idea. "And it's not like he can actually hurt her. It's a great idea. He can finally be of some actual use to us. Free baby-sitter, with built-in benefits."
Granted Dawn hadn't liked the 'baby-sitter' bit—(she had just turned 16, after all)—she'd smiled and held her tongue. Her decision had been a good one, for about twenty minutes later, the Watcher's resolve crumbled, and he'd muttered an approval before stalking out of the Summer's home. No doubt to return to his own and cool down with a cup of tea or something.
She enjoyed her time with Spike; maybe a little more than she would admit to anyone else. And, of course she could see the improvement in her tactics and the way she held and manipulated the weapons she worked with. Spike had commented more than once on her quick reflexes (and didn't fail to mention right after, that the Slayer was the only real human who could dodge his attacks), and it made her happy. Buffy noticed her progress as well, so the lessons continued.
But the late nights and early mornings were definitely getting to her. It took about 4 snooze-buttons and an angry call from the kitchen to rouse her from her bed Thursday morning, and one quick glance in the mirror set a permanent grimace on her face. Her skin was pale—waxen looking even, hair in utter disarray from sleep, and dark circles under her eyes. The scrutiny was denied further when Buffy barged into her room though, and jumping back from her dresser, Dawn yelled in annoyance.
"Tara and Willow are downstairs, Willow's going to take you school. You've got like half an hour to get ready, so hurry up and come eat something."
"Get out of my room!" the younger girl hollered, throwing with all of her strength one of the pillows lying on her bed. It smacked Buffy—who had been holding a bowl, containing something that looked like the consistency of pancake mix—and she stepped back, before whipping around on her heels.
"You're such a brat!" she hissed. "You totally just like, ruined my pancakes. Fine, starve, see if I care!"
Dawn threw another pillow, which hit the door and slammed it closed. She stood still, waiting until she could hear her sister stomping down the stairs.
"Something is seriously wrong with that girl!" she could hear her huff. "See if I every try and make breakfast again!"
Dawn tuned out the conversation, which floated up through the floorboards like air. Glancing at the clock, she realized in alarm that Buffy hadn't been joking. Opting for a quick shower and a hasty choice of clothes, she pulled her hair into a messy bun, yanked on some tennis shorts and a loosely fitted hoodie before dashing down the stairs. Tara's laughter was prominent as she slid into the kitchen, snatched her backpack from the floor and scurried past the counter (where she pulled a pancake from a steaming pile), and slipping into her sandals, called over her shoulder, "Bye!"
Willow gave Tara a light peck on the lips before slipping into a light jacket herself. Despite the sunny sky above them, there was a certain chill to the air.
"Have a good day at school," Tara chirped, and Dawn couldn't help but smile as Willow followed her out of the kitchen.
"Aren't you gonna' say good bye to Buffy?" Willow asked curiously as they slid into her brand-new convertible.
"No," Dawn responded carelessly, as she pulled her seat-belt on. "She doesn't care if I starve, so why should I say good bye?"
Willow rolled her eyes, but said nothing as she pulled out of the driveway. Dawn spent the ride in silence, and as soon as the car had drawn up to the curb, she'd nearly slid out of the passenger's side.
"Thanks for the ride, Willow," she said, leaning into the car. "It was really nice of you, especially since you and Tara were kind of..."
"Just go to class," Willow responded quickly with a nervous smile, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Or my driving you will have gone to waste. Go, go!"
Flashing her a grin, the young girl turned on her heels before marching up the walkway. The bell had yet to ring, for students still loitered in the boulevard, as well as near the doors smoking or chatting. Adjusting her backpack onto her shoulders, she kept a smile plastered to her face as she went inside, waving to a few girls as she made her way to homeroom. It was only when she had slid into her seat, and the bell rang that she'd realized she'd not only forgotten her lunch money, but her measly pancake as well. Willow wasn't going to be pleased; she'd probably left it on the seat.
He paced the length of his crypt several times, boots falling heavily onto the cold floor as he crossed the threshold. Arms crossed over his chest, Spike did his best to fight off the agitation that was building inside him. He knew it was still Daylight out, but he couldn't bring himself to sleep. Hell, Passions was on and he couldn't force himself to relax long enough to watch that!
"Bloody hell," he growled, pivoting on his heel and slamming his fist into one of the several pillars that held up the ceiling. A piece of stone crumbled under his fist like chalk, and he grimaced, pulling his scratched knuckles out of the dent. The first time he'd gotten wind of The Mirror Talisman being in Sunny Dale, he hadn't paid much attention to it. It was an interesting weapon—relatively harmless, for those who did know how to use it—were it not for the fact that it was nothing but a mere rumour to begin with. Or at least, that's what Spike had thought, until seeing it with his own eyes the previous night.
After the little Nibblet had managed to pull Buffy from his living quarters, irritated and annoyed at not being given the privilege to verbally let his anger out on the Slayer, he'd stalked from his crypt with no particular destination in mind. His feet led him to a Demon bar he'd frequented often, and one where he was not exactly welcome since his change of perspective on the good and the bad. He'd ignored the hostile stares he received upon entry, and marching up to the bar ordered a shot of gin and tonic, which he knew was going to taste like horse manure. He downed it anyway, hid his grimace, and glanced around.
The bar was dimly lit, as per the usual, and several clusters of demons sat near the back of the room. He could hear their low voices, small murmurs, before one of them looked up and caught Spike's eyes. Yellow eyes flashed, and Spike grinned easily; nothing to be afraid of. His mood was quite sour, if the demon wanted a fight he'd be sure to get one. Their gazes remained locked for perhaps a moment longer, before the demon stood and excused himself from his table.
"Do you have a problem?" he growled, marching up to the bar. Spike couldn't particularly tell what kind of demon he was—there were an interesting combination of characteristics. The facial and bodily structure seemed almost human, while the skin was green and scarred. His eyes were yellow, and as his lips drew back into a snarl, Spike saw that his teeth were crooked, sharp and black. Intrigued now, he spun on his stool and leaned back, elbows resting along the bar.
"Problem? Me? Just checking out my surroundings. Couldn't help but overhear you and your mates over there goin' on 'bout some sort of Talisman."
"That's none of your concern," the other spat, a sort of reddish brown sludge slipping from the corners of his lips, "We're across the room, an' you've got no business eavesdroppin', vampire."
"The Mirror Talisman is kind of a big deal, don't you think?" Spike lied, ignoring the Demon's irritation. "It's existence hasn't even been officially confirmed though, and something like you is trying to get your grubby paws on it?" An indignant snort. "Best of luck with that one."
"For your information," the demon quipped, clawed hand reaching into a well-worn jacket, "we've already got the Mirror Talisman."
When he pulled his hand from within the confines of his pocket, the Demon presented the item for Spike to observe. Although his grip was death-like (Spike could see the white of the knuckles through his off-coloured skin), Spike had no intentions of trying to remove the instrument from within the others grasp. He was too shocked. It was definitely like the tool depicted in the ancient texts; a slender shaft, carved out of silver, intricate designs leading all the way up to the sphere that was melded to the top. It's reflective surface stared back at Spike tauntingly, and his blue eyes roamed over it in fascination, and then mild horror.
"What's a Demon like you planning on doing with a thing like 'at? Ain't gonna' do you much good, I reckon."
"It will benefit everyone," the Demon sneered, "once we rid the Slayer of her powers. Then, nothing can get in our way. Sunny Dale will belong to us."
Alarmed, Spike dropped his feet to the floor and stood. He cleared about four inches over the other Demon easily, which made him feel more confident about the sharp turn in direction this conversation had suddenly taken.
"Now listen here," he began, his voice calm but dangerously low, "Regardless of whether that's an authentic piece of work or not, if I catch wind of somethin' happening to the Slayer, it'll be your head. Understand, Demon?"
Yellow eyes sparkled with amusement, but the creature could sense Spike's hostility for he returned the Mirror Talisman to his pocket. Lips drawing back into a sneer, he let out a dark chuckle that was none too pleasant to the ears.
"You must be Spike," he jeered, "I've 'eard about you. You're the Slayer's Lap Dog, aren't ya? Every Demon in town knows how you've lost your backbone, fallen in love with that pretty little blonde girl. You won't even harm a human now!"
Spike's jaw clenched and cocking his head, he narrowed his gaze. The other didn't seem to catch his annoyance, because he pressed on the issue. Spike's fingers twitched.
"She probably sees you as nothing, you know, like the dirt you are. Just using you to her convenience. It's the only reason you're not dust, and you—"
His words were cut-off mid sentence, as Spike's fist molded to the side of his face. He let out a pained squeal and tumbled back. Losing his balance, he tripped over a chair and landed face-down along the floorboards. Spike flexed his fingers before coming to stand above him. The Demon scrambled backwards a few feet, before glaring upwards. His cheek was bloody, and the creature spat onto the floor—a few gnarled teeth mixed in with the saliva.
"Let's get one thing straight, shall we?" Spike asked cheerfully, cracking the knuckles of his other hand. "I'm still the Big Bad, and I've got some very damn good reasons for doing what I do. You've got some pretty messed up interpretations of the situation, so I'll be more 'an delighted to set 'em straight."
As he delivered a blow to the Demon's side, he cast a glance over his shoulder. The other Demon's he had been talking to earlier were inching close, but, he noticed, they were of the same species. Smaller than him. And Spike was a very pissed off Vampire at the moment, and he reasoned they could see that. Why take an unnecessary beating?
"First and foremost," he grunted, driving his heel into the Demon's hip, "the Slayer is alive because I allow her to be. She has no idea what's coming her way, and you'd be wise to keep your mouth shut about things you don't bloody well know about."
Kneeling down, he pulled the Demon up to his feet. Fingers curling into the worn jacket, he jerked the other violently a few times, before allowing his human countenance to disappear. Yellow eyes met another pair of gleaming orbs as he slid into his game face, and Spike snarled, drawing back his lips to expose his own set of razor sharp fangs. "Just because I don't hurt humans now doesn't mean that won't change in the future. And I'll have you know I've developed a liking for killing things like you."
"Okay, okay," the Demon blubbered, lifting his clawed hands in surrender. "I understand."
"You'd be a fool not to," Spike quipped, but he released his hold on the Demon. He had shakily stumbled away from him, knocking over several tables and chairs, before his friends had grabbed onto him and helped lead him out of the building.
Still irritated, Spike rolled his shoulders and turned back to the bar. Several other Vampire's lounged there, talking to one another seemingly uninterested in what had just taken place. The bartender looked annoyed, but said nothing as Spike stalked out of the facility. It was only when he entered the Graveyard that he'd realized he'd forgotten to grab the Talisman. Bollocks.
School had been absolute hell. By the time the final bell rang, Dawn was almost ready to burst into tears. Some days she thought that going out at night and patrolling with her sister would be safer than spending an entire day inside, trapped at her desk and listening to her teaches lecture her hour after hour.
Her grades had been steadily declining since her late-night visits to Spike's Crypt, but she'd cleverly managed to distract Buffy when her last report card had come through. Distracting Buffy wasn't really hard to do, unless it was a life-or-death situation. She'd simply commented on her new top, and the Slayer had launched into a heroic (and dramatic) story of how she had to fight another girl to get it, because it had been on sale.
Her teachers were no longer sympathetic to her case, and the piles of homework that went uncompleted continued to grow. Her worries vanished as she stepped out of the classroom though, and Dawn even managed a smile as her friend Jessica flounced down the hall, pushing past a large majority of the student body to get to her.
"Soooo," Jessica grinned, falling into step beside her, "any plans for tonight?"
Dawn's smile widened as a particular blond vampire with a cocky grin flashed through her . She didn't leave for his Crypt until around ten, though, so she was safe.
"Nope, why? Wanted to do something?"
"Well, actually," Jessica began mischievously, "Derek asked me to go to the cemetery with him tonight, and you know Joshua? He's totally into you. We're going to do a seance, and he suggested you come with us."
"Really?" Dawn squeaked, eyebrows disappearing behind her bangs. "Or are you just saying that?"
"I'm not even lying," Jessica swore, lifting her hands up in protest. Large brown eyes stared into Dawn's own liquid blue-grey, and she continued. "He said it himself, so I said I'd ask you."
They stopped walking as Dawn reached her locker, and turning the dial she snapped the lock open, yanking the door away from the small space with a grimace. A few papers fluttered from the shelf on the top, and kneeling down, she quickly stuffed them inside. Unloading another large stack of papers from her binder, she slammed it shut with her hip and dropped the book into her backpack.
"I'll ask Buffy," she reasoned with a smile, slipping the bag onto her shoulders.
"So," Dawn began carefully that evening, picking at a large portion of mashed-potatoes which Willow had been kind enough to dish out, "can I go to Jessica's after dinner?"
Buffy lifted her eyes from the scrutiny of her own plate (she didn't trust Willow's cooking either), and glanced from her friends back to Dawn. As if for reassurance.
"Why do you have to go to Jessica's?"
"Weeelll," Dawn drawled, stalling for an excuse, "our History class is having this huge joint project and it's like, worth fifty percent of our grade. I know I'm going to Spike's tonight, but I'll be home at nine!"
She smiled, pressing the lie through her teeth. Buffy looked at her with a doubtful expression, and parting her lips to speak (no doubt to say no) Willow interjected, cutting off whatever she had to say.
"That should be fine, Buffy, I can drive her and pick her up. It's no big deal."
Dawn shot the red-head a grateful look, and Willow returned it with a warm smile. Apparently she wasn't too upset over the pancake incident earlier that morning. Buffy, however, took a couple moments to respond, and leaning back in her chair, crossed her arms.
"It gets dark out fast," she began in warning, "I really don't want you to be planning one of your little adventures, Dawn."
"Adventures?" Dawn quipped, trying to sound offended, despite the sudden irritation bubbling inside of her. "It's just a study thing, Buffy. We're going to get some information together, draw out a plan...you know, you've done that kind of stuff before too."
"Buffy was never too good at the finishing part," Willow joked, and Buffy's countenance changed from contemplative to annoyed, and she threw a pea in the witches direction. "Not fair," she pouted, "I was still the Slayer in High school too, you know! If I didn't have to keep running off to save the world...I so would have been a good student."
The tension in the air drained then, and Buffy offered her consent. Dawn tried to hide the satisfied smile that claimed dominance on her lips, as she managed to force down the rest of her potatoes.
Standing on Jessica's porch, Dawn waved good-bye to Willow as she drove away from the curb. Turning to face the door, she knocked twice gently, and waited. It didn't take long for her friend to come clambering down the steps, and yank open the door. Pulling Dawn inside, she grinned wickedly, before glancing at her up and down.
"What's with the bag?" she asked incredulously as she led Dawn into the living room.
"Well I had to lie and say we're working on a project," Dawn explained, letting it slip from her slender shoulders. "Otherwise Buffy wouldn't have let me come out."
"What's the deal with her?" Jessica questioned in annoyance, "I mean, really, she's worse than my mom. I thought older sisters were supposed to be cool."
"I don't know," Dawn lied, dropping down onto the couch. "Since our mom died, she's kind of kicked it into overdrive. She probably just doesn't want me to get hurt."
"Smothering is a form of murder, you know," was Jessica's saucy response. She stood near the hall, fluffing her hair in the mirror that hung above the mantel. They're eyes met in the reflection, and Dawn shifted uncomfortably.
"So when are they getting here?" she asked, glancing around the living room.
"We're meeting them at the graveyard," Jessica answered, turning on her heel. She snatched her purse from the floor and glanced out the window. The sky was on fire, a dazzling mess of oranges, reds and purples. It would be dark soon, and although Dawn knew the cemetery was not a good place to be (not only for the vampires, but she ran the risk of bumping into Spike, too) she got up from the couch and stretching mildly, crossed her arms and headed towards the door.
The walk to the cemetery was a short one, and although Dawn had agreed to go, she couldn't help the unease that claimed her nerves as the sun slowly vanished behind the trees. The cool breeze that picked up once the sun was gone gave her goosebumps along her bare thighs, and she shivered. Jessica nattered away about something that happened at school, and she continued to look for the familiar gates of the Cemetery they were headed.
When she spotted them, a sudden anxiousness engulfed her body.
"Jessica," she bit out, stopping near the pathway that led up to the gates, which were already slightly ajar. "Jessica, I dunno' if I want to do this anymore."
"What?" Jessica asked, turning to give her a wide-eyed look. "Are you serious? We're already here, Dawn. They're like, waiting inside. Everything is ready."
"Yeah but cemeteries are creepy, don't you think?" she asked, remaining where she stood as Jessica continued to advance backwards, eyes still fixed on her. "I mean, things could be in there. People."
"That's the point," Jessica responded with a roll of her eyes. "Why do you think we're doing a seance? I mean helloooo, don't you wanna talk to some ghosts? I'm sure there are plenty of dead souls in here."
More than you know, Dawn thought gingerly. Normally she had no qualms prancing around the Graveyard when the sun went down. But of course, she'd be safe because she was with either Spike or Buffy. Neither of them would let harm come to her. This, this was different though. Different and stupid. She didn't know why she'd even agreed to it, because now she would have to explain all of it to Buffy when she returned home two hours earlier than expected. Not only that, but she had to figure out a way to pull Jessica back from the gates, which she was getting extremely close to.
"Can't we just hang out at your house?" she pleaded. "Or we can all go out and grab some pizza? I've got some money."
"Don't be such a baby," Jessica grumbled, annoyed now, for she stalked down the pathway and grabbed Dawn's wrist. "Derek and Josh are going to think we're babies if we don't show."
Hesitating, Dawn looked from Jessica and beyond to the gates, before biting her lip. She forced her feet to move, and when Jessica saw that she was complying, her grip on her wrist slackened. They made their way inside the cemetery, and Dawn glanced around them as they did. Spike's crypt was across the cemetery, so she would remain relatively undetected as long as they stayed closer to the entrance. They walked around gnarled tree roots and broken tombstones, before a whistle drew their attention. Two shadows stood under a dead willow tree, which loomed out over the west side of the graveyard.
The familiar faces of Derek and Joshua came into view, and they were both grinning as the girls approached.
"Glad you made it," Joshua said warmly to Dawn, and she nodded in silence, before glancing down towards the ground. A Ouija board as well as six or seven candles lay sprawled out on the dirt, and she suppressed another shiver before sitting down alongside Jessica. As the boys made work of arranging the candles and lighting them, Dawn looked around again, before her eyes lifted to the willow above them. It groaned against the wind, and Derek cursed as a few of the candles flickered and then died.
"We brought some extra goodies," Derek grinned, his facial features eerily illuminated as he sat down. The dwindling flames of the candles accompanied by the darkening twilight set the mood just right, and Dawn stiffened when Joshua sat down and sidled closer.
"I got some of my dad's vodka," Derek explained, pulling a large bottle of clear liquid from a bag, "so this should make it more interesting."
"Oooh, gimme," Jessica giggled, taking the bottle and prying it open with her small hands. Once she had the cap removed, she took a long drink, pulled a face, and then handed it to Dawn. She accepted it reluctantly, and stared at the bottle in her fingers a moment before offering it to Josh. He took it with raised eyebrows, before exchanging glances with Derek, who shrugged and then smiled.
"Not gonna' join in on the fun?" he asked, grabbing the bottle from Josh.
"I'm okay." Dawn responded stiffly, rubbing her arms. This had been a bad idea.
Derek passed the bottle back to Jessica, who nursed small sips from it was if it weren't straight alcohol. Once he'd managed to get all of the candles lit—and stay that way, they settled into a circle, knees touching one another around the Ouija board.
They placed the tips of their fingers on the palet, and Derek snickered before tilting his head skyward.
"Ghosts of Sunny Dale, hear us," he began, and Jessica stifled a snort. "we invite you to our seance. If you are here, show us a sign of your presence."
After a long moment of silence, nothing. The group grew quiet as a gust of wind rolled through the cemetery, and the candles flickered. Derek repeated himself, and again they waited. Jessica parted her lips to speak after another long moment, perhaps to voice her disappointment and ask for another shot of vodka, when the palet flew from beneath their fingers, and smashed into the Willow tree. Dawn screamed and scuttled backwards, away from the others'. Fingers grappled at roots as she tried to pull herself up onto her feet, and the candles flickered one last time before extinguishing altogether.
"Cool!" Joshua shouted in the dark, and Jessica let out a frightened noise. The Willow tree groaned above them, and Dawn was about to call out when an icy hand curled around her upper arm. Jerking her to her feet, she was spun round on her heels. Gleaming yellow eyes met hers, and they widened further. Before she could scream however, another cold hand pressed to her lips.
"What do we have here?" something behind her hissed, "looks like they're out to have some fun."
"Dawn?" Jessica called, not to far from her left. "Dawn? Where are you?"
Dawn's words were muffled as she writhed in the creature's grasp, and a resonating chuckle carried in the wind. Jessica screamed, and Dawn jerked around, trying to make out what was happening, in the dim lighting offered by the street lamps down below the cemetery. To no avail, her eyes saw only dark, muted shapes.
"They look like they'd taste good, don't you agree?" something hissed, and Dawn realized in mild horror that there was more than one. Her fighting grew more frantic, and she managed to pry an arm from those cold fingers. Something tore through her shirt, and she realized in mild pain that whatever this thing was, it had claws.
"Let go of me!" she screamed, kicking blindly in the dark as they began to shove her forward, deeper into the cemetery. Stumbling, she tripped and landed on her hands. Wincing as a jagged piece of tomb stone tore into her palms, she made a small noise as she was jerked to her feet. Behind the dull ache in her arm and now her hand, the girl scrambled to come up with an idea. She thrashed behind her with her good arm, hoping to hit something, but her efforts were fruitless. They dodged her feeble attempts easily and continued to push her forward, snickering all the while.
When Dawn began to think that she was in some serious trouble, a deep, familiar voice sounded about fifteen feet to the left.
"Oi," he barked, and Dawn could tell he was annoyed. A dark shadow advanced, but Dawn could tell from the lazy saunter that it was none other than Spike. "What in the bloody hell is goin' on here?"
"Spike!" Dawn squeaked, and the figure's advance stopped.
"Dawn?"
He sounded surprised.
"Spike, help me!" she demanded, throwing another blind kick behind her. This time was a success, and she heard a mild grunt as her foot made contact with something hard. "I can't see anything," she added quickly, crawling away from where she'd stopped. Her fingers dug into the dirt, and Spike drew nearer until he knelt down and pulled her up to her knees. Cool fingers brushed hair back off of her face, and she could make out the strong line of his jaw, and the frown that marred his handsome face.
"What're you doing out here, Bit?" he asked, anger mixed in with the anxiousness in his tone. His eyes left her face, and slid behind her. Without giving her a chance to respond, he stood and cracked his knuckles.
"Oh," he said, almost as if to himself. His voice changed then, and he sounded almost...amused. "It's you blokes again, in't it? Decide to go for a little romp did we? D'you lot get your jollies off of scaring the knickers off of little girls?"
Dawn heard a faint swear, and she turned onto her back, eyes narrowing in attempt to see what was happening. Spike moved forward, and she could make out four figures. He spun on his heel and drove the heel of his boot into what would be the general direction of a head, and a sickening crunch signalled he'd made contact.
"I'd been meaning to find you again. I s'pose this is actually rather convenient for me." A pause, and Dawn grew a little confused. He sounded like he was enjoying himself. "Now, I should really rip your heads off for trying to do such a nasty thing so early in the evening, but I'll be nice and just take your arms."
There was a hiss of protest, before a few blows were delivered, and then an ear-splitting scream. Dawn winced as she heard cartilage tear, and the heavy scent of blood filled the air. Covering her mouth with a hand, she resisted the urge to vomit, and closed her eyes.
"I'll be takin' that off your grubby little claws too, mate," Spike commented. The sound of rustling cloth, and another grunt, before Spike's figure became more clear as he approached her.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, concern dripping from each word. "C'mon, Bit, let's get you back to the crypt an' have a look."
"M-my friends," Dawn stammered as he helped her to her feet. "They were—they were near th-the tree."
Spike turned his head, brows drawn together in a frown, before he shook his head.
"I don't smell 'em," he commented, "and if you're worried about your friends, whats left of those beasties won't be commin' round here anymore. They've probably all run off. Come on now."
Dawn couldn't help the tears that slid from the corners of her eyes, and by the time they'd reached the crypt, she was balling. Spike's arm was heavy on her shoulder as he led them down and then inside, and he positioned her on the couch so he good give her a more thorough once-over.
"I was totally useless," she blubbered as he inspected her neck. "I just froze up and didn't even think about any of the stuff we've been practising. It was dark and I couldn't see, and what were those things?"
"Hush, love," Spike commented, his fingers slipping down her shoulders. She suppressed a shiver, but goosebumps broke out along her thighs. If he noticed, he said nothing. He found the tear in her sweater, though, and peeling back the blood fabric, frowned. Shaking his head, his blue eyes lifted to hers, and she flushed with the realization as to how close they were.
"I don't have a first-aid kit," Spike said with mild irritation as he turned over her hand. He picked a few chunks of rock from the wound, and she winced, and would have jerked her hand back had his long fingers not curled around her wrist and held it in place.
After a long moment of silence, he sighed before standing up. Rolling his shoulders, he tugged at the collar of his coat before pulling her to her feet by her elbow.
"Mind telling me what a snack like you is doing in the cemetery unsupervised? Your sister will have my head when she finds out you got hurt when I was 'round."
"You don't need to tell her anything," Dawn responded quickly. "I mean, you can just walk me back to my friend Jessica's house, and I can call Willow and she'll come pick me up."
"Oh really now," Spike mused, eyebrows lifting. "And how, dearest, are you expecting to explain those?"
A casual gesture to her torn, bloody shirt, and bleeding palm.
"I...I'll tell her I tripped or something, cut my arm on some scissors."
Spike stared her down a moment, before lifting his eyebrows.
"Right then," he nodded, fingers curling around Dawn's upper arm. "let's get you home."
"Hey," Dawn began quickly as he pulled her back towards the doorway, "did you know those...things? That attacked us?"
"Not really," Spike responded coolly, as they marched up the steps that led back out into the cemetery. "I bumped into 'em at a bar the other night. Didn't get off on a good hand. This just made matter's worse, but I think I've rectified the situation."
"How?"
"They had something that could be—if it works, mind you,—a little annoying to your big sis, if the wrong kind of person got their hands on it."
"You have it now?"
"You're damn right I do," Spike snorted, glancing around them as they walked down a well worn path. He manoeuvred both himself and Dawn out of the way of broken tombstones, expertly and quickly finding his way to the cemetery gates. Dawn glanced over to where the tree was, and caught no sight of her friends. She tried to ease the knot that tightened in her stomach by telling herself they had simply ran home after she'd been dragged off.
"So what is it, then?" Dawn questioned, turning her attention back towards the vampire. Spike gave her a mild sidelong glance, before turning his attention back to the road.
"It's called the Mirror Talisman," he began, cutting Dawn's next words off, "and don't you be thinking 'bout taking a peek at it. I was going to give it to Buffy later, but since we're headed there now, she might as well have it."
Curiosity vanishing, Dawn fell quiet. The dread that consumed her now wasn't for her friends, or the fright from facing those faceless creatures, but from what lay ahead. The monsters in the graveyard hadn't ripped her head off, but her sister certainly would.