Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fan Fiction ❯ S W I T CH. ❯ Irreversible. ( Chapter 3 )

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

"So you mean to tell me," Giles began, pacing in the Summer's home, "that Buffy and Dawn have somehow switched supernatural entities? And that now Buffy," he continued, gesturing in her direction, "is the Key, and Dawn is the Slayer?"
Dawn sat in the large armchair near the fireplace. Her eyes were fixed on her knees, but she could feel the heat gather in her face as more than a few pairs of eyes settled on to her small form. Spike lounged against the wall near the door, and Buffy stood beside him, rigid, with her arms crossed.
"It would appear to be that way," Spike answered finally after a long stretch of silence, "no other way to explain how the Bit flipped me over her shoulder."
"Well, you always were a lightweight, Spikey." Xander interjected sarcastically. He shut up when more than one unappreciative glance was sent his way. "Sorry," he mumbled, hands raised.
"Well I don't see how this is a bad thing," Anya piped up, glancing between the two sisters, as they both gave her a look of incredulity. "Buffy is always whining about how being the Slayer kills her social life, and Dawn's always complaining about not being allowed to help with anything that involves creepy crawly demons."
"Not fair," Buffy pouted, before her expression melted into one of seriousness. "I mean, it wouldn't be that big of a deal, because this whole switch thing is just temporary, right Willow?"
Willow glanced up from her laptop, before green eyes dropped back down on to her screen. Her fingers were flying over the keyboard, and brows furrowing, she shrugged helplessly.
"I can't find anything yet," she began. "The Mirror Talisman was supposed to be some kind of myth, there's hardly any useful information on the web about it, let alone how to use it." A pause. "Or fix it."
A heavy silence fell around them, and Giles continued to pace. Dawn could practically feel the supernatural energy swimming through her veins, and she wondered briefly, if Buffy had to deal with this constantly. She felt like she could go running for hours.
"Well, what d'you suggest we do then?" Spike asked, breaking the thickness of the silence. He sounded expectant, and his eyebrows raised as his gaze swept over the room. "Buffy's useless, and Dawn doesn't have any proper training."
Buffy made a noise, no doubt to object to his statement, and instinctively raised a hand to hit him upside the head. It was strange, watching her movements, which seemed so sluggish now. Human. And Spike lifted a hand, fingers curling easily around her wrist, holding her arm in place. The girl's eyes widened as she realized what had just happened, and making an angry wrenching motion, pulled herself from the vampire's slackened grip. His expression grew smug, blue eyes gleaming. "My point."
"We can't just have her go out patrolling," Giles spoke aloud, "the very idea is preposterous. She has school, and other duties to attend to."
"I don't mind," Dawn cut in, finally. Nervously. "I mean, Spike's been helping me with weapons and stuff, remember? And somebody has to do it. If it's only for a few nights while Willow figures stuff out, I should be okay." I think.
"No way in hell," Buffy snapped, shooting the idea down without a thought. "I'm not going to let my baby sister go out there all alone, chasing vampires. You can't defend yourself."
"Well actually," Spike commented, "she can. She's the 'Slayer' now, remember, love?"
Buffy elbowed him in the rib—a movement he hadn't anticipated. It didn't seem to hurt him much, but he grunted, and his lip drew back into an annoyed sneer. Dawn hid a mild smile, despite the overall seriousness of the situation.
"It wouldn't be a horrible idea," Tara began, quickly finishing her sentence when she received a glare from Buffy, "I mean, if someone were to go with her, and watch her back right? I mean, you can't do it, you'd be in just as much danger as the rest of us, even with your fighting experience."
"Who're you suggesting then?" Buffy retorted, her irritation obvious. "Spike?"
"I'm not opposed to the ide—"
"I didn't ask you," Buffy snapped, cutting him off. Throwing her hands up in the air, she let out a frustrated growl and turned to kick the end table. Face crumpling into an expression of pain, she righted herself, before limping over to where Dawn sat. "The only reason we trusted you with Dawn in the first place," Buffy continued bitterly, "is because of that stupid chip in your head. You've pulled too much crap for me to give you complete faith."
Dawn grew tense, and she looked to Spike, who stood under everyone's scrutiny now, to gauge his reaction to Buffy's words. He was very still, and his jaw grew firm as he locked gazes with her sister. Nodding once, he rolled his shoulders—something he did, usually when he was offended—and turned on his heel.
"Right then," he began, headed towards the door, "I know when I'm not wanted."
He yanked the door open, only to slam it closed again, as sunlight came streaming in. He fanned a few tendrils of smoke away from himself as he backed up, headed towards the kitchen. Dawn had forgotten too, that he'd rushed her back to the Summer's home, as soon as he'd figured out what had happened. Smoking blanket and all. "I'll be in the basement," he growled, clearing his throat. The door slammed behind him, and everyone listened a moment as his heavy feet fell onto the rickety stairs one at a time.
"You know," Dawn began, "that wasn't really nice. He really is just trying to help. He even came here with me during the day, to make sure I got here okay."
"Dawn is right, Buffy," Giles agreed reluctantly, looking to her. "You're a bit frustrated with the situation you find yourself in, and that's understandable, but that was perhaps a bit...uncalled for."
"Of course," Buffy frowned, "everybody side with the vampire."
"Now Buffy," Giles shot back, adjusting his glasses along the bridge of his nose, "you and Spike may not have... the best of relationships right now," he coughed, and Dawn ignored the soft tug on her heart—everyone knew what he was talking about—"but I think he's proven more than once now, that he is helping because he wants to. And he's more or less an asset to us now. You really should give him a chance."
"And Giles is saying that too," Xander cut in, incredulously, "so you might as well."
"Fine," Buffy heaved a sigh. Getting to her feet, she turned towards the kitchen. "I hate you all," she added, and stalked, grumbling to herself, out of view. Dawn sighed, buried her face into her knees, and tried to keep her heart at a steady rhythm. It skipped once or twice though, at the thought of them being alone together in the basement.
Spike leaned against the cold cement, eyes hard, arms crossed. He was fuming.
Buffy never appreciated anything he'd done for her. For any of them. In fact, the only one who thanked him for every miniscule thing that he did, was the little Bit. She enjoyed having him round. But then again, the poor girl was so ignored by the rest of her friends and family, due to the problems that usually occupied her sister, that it was only likely the two misfits of the group would band together and form a friendship.
His expression softened at the thought of her face, her smile, before he caught himself and slid a frown onto his angular face as Buffy descended the steps into the cool basement. She stood at the foot of the stairs a long moment, and the silence stretched out between the two. 1 second, 2. 3.
She cleared her throat, rubbed her hands on her thighs—a nervous gesture, and looked around the dimly lit enclosure.
"I'm sorry," she said finally, and Spike could hear a bitterness in her tone, "I'm just frustrated with what's happening, and I realize you're only trying to help. You're a big help. Thank you."
"You don't get it, do you?" Spike asked, incredulously. "I get that you could care less about me, and that's well and dandy, but you've got a family up there who are dependant on you. You've got a little girl who's suddenly been given all this supernatural strength, as well as the responsibility that comes with it. Whether or not it's temporary," he lifted a hand violently, to keep Buffy from interrupting him, "something has to be done about it. Not just for everyone's safety but yours too."
"What do you mean?" Buffy frowned. "I'm perfectly fine."
Spike snorted, rolled his eyes. Turned his back to her, which was something he'd never made a habit of doing before.
"Don't be daft, Buffy," he drawled, "d'you know what those demons will do to you once they find out you're just a regular human now? Even if Willow somehow manages to put that damned Talisman back together again, it will be bloody useless if you're dead."
"I'm not going to die," Buffy snapped. "I'm still here, aren't I?"
"Yeah," Spike retorted, "for the time being. You have nothing to threaten the demons with. Except your sister. At least if she was out there doing something, there is no worry of a rumour spreading in the underground."
"How could it spread?" Buffy asked angrily, before her eyes sparkled, "nobody was there except for you, when it happened. You're the only one who could start something like that."
Spike growled angrily and turned. Stalked towards her.
It surprised him, caught him off guard a little when she backed up against the wall.
Her eyes widened as she realized what had just happened, and something inside him twitched.
Something predatory. Hungry.
"If the Slayer isn't out for her nightly routine, or at least, if someone isn't out there killing in a Slayer-like fashion, demons will talk."
His voice dropped lower, and he stepped closer—close enough to touch her, should he please. A hand coming up, his cold fingers pressed into the wall beside her head, and he leaned over her. Their eyes met, and hers were like fire while his were like ice. Dead, unfeeling. Despite the ache that started in his gut.
"I can't protect all of you alone," he whispered, unable now to hide the genuine concern from his words, "Buffy, you know I wouldn't let anything happen to your sister."
The fire in Buffy's eyes faded then, and turned into something else. She looked wary, tired.
With a heavy sigh, she dropped her eyes to the floor, and Spike felt stung for a moment.
"It's not that I don't trust you," she began quietly, arms crossed, "you've proved more than once you're worthy of it." Deep breath. "But Spike, it's the control. I have no control. I can't keep her from getting hurt, or protect her now. I'm...useless. Like you said."
Spike pushed away from the wall—turned from her, and lifted his hands to run them through his tousled blonde hair. Frustrated now, he lifted his head to the ceiling before heaving a sigh.
"Everybody is here for you. This problem is only temporary, and as long as it remains that way the whole thing is completely manageable."
"But—"
"Just because you've been dumped with the responsibilities of the Slayer doesn't mean you have to shoulder every single problem that comes your way alone. You've got friends and family up there," Spike pointed angrily to the stairs, "people who are more than willing to help you get through this. Stop putting yourself through so much bloody misery when you don't need to. It's childish."
A heavy moment of silence, before Buffy's eyes widened. Her cheeks flushed, and Spike ignored the dry ache that began in his throat when the blood flooded throughout her face.
"You're calling me childish?"
"Yes. I am." Spike scoffed. " I might not act like it, but I've been around a helluva lot longer than any of you lot, and I know what I'm talking about. Whether you choose to believe what I have to say or not, is up to you."
"I just don't want anyone to get hurt," Buffy responded softly. Spike turned around to asses her expression and was surprised and almost a little disturbed at what he saw. Her features were a confused mess, caught between a frown, a pout and something else. Her lower lip trembled, and she damn well looked near to tears. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he struggled to maintain a pissed-off visage, although all of his anger had more or less flown out the window at the sight presented to him.
"Nobodies going to get hurt, Pet," Spike answered, just as softly, stepping close. She didn't withdraw, and he let his hands rest on her shoulders. "You've got some powerful witches on your side, a watcher, and the Big Bad to help you get through this." Buffy rolled her eyes, and he grinned in answer, before their eyes met again. A long moment of silence, and he couldn't help the direction his eyes travelled. Down to her mouth, where his gaze lingered on her lips for perhaps a second longer than they should have.
"Spike—"
"Oh."
Blinking, Spike and Buffy turned to the stairs, where Dawn stood. An expression of carefully constructed stoicism was plastered to her soft features, and Spike felt like he had just been caught doing something very very wrong. It confused him for a fraction of a second, when he hadn't registered her footsteps, before he realized she possessed now the unnatural grace of the Slayer. Whether she'd noticed it or not, he hadn't heard her coming.
Stepping away from each other, Buffy dropped her eyes to the floor and cleared her throat.
"Alright," she said with a firm nod. "Game plan?"
"Willow wants you to come upstairs," Dawn explained quietly, "she found some stuff she wants to share with everybody."
Nodding in response, Buffy cast a hesitant look to Spike, before gently easing past Dawn and heading up the stairs. The vampire couldn't explain the sudden uncomfortable silence between the two, as they were left alone, but judging by means of her rigid posture and unwillingness to look him in the eye, he gathered she was embarrassed.
"You alright, Bit?" he asked carefully.
"Fine," Dawn responded quickly. Too quickly. She lifted her face, all smiles, but as their eyes met for a half second before she turned to follow her sister, he'd caught the look. Her footsteps faded as she too left him alone, and he stood there a moment mildly confused. He'd known she'd taken a liking to him—and he had her, as well. He didn't mind listening to her prattle on about how her day was, because he knew nobody else would really listen. And in turn, she took delight in hearing his deliciously gory murder stories, ones that her sister didn't really appreciate relaying back to her.
She was like a little sister to him.
And he'd assumed she'd thought more or less the same.
So why had she looked as if she were about to cry?
An odd numbness overcame Dawn as she headed back into the living room. Dropping heavily onto the armchair, she stared blankly at the coffee table before her, as Spike finally made an appearance. She took note of how Buffy kept her distance, and in turn, Spike made no move to get closer to her.
An uncomfortable knot, something akin to jealousy, began to wind its way inside her.
"Well," Willow exhaled, running her fingers through her hair, "I'm not sure how reliable this source is, but you know, what you can find, right?" A pause. "But anyway, it says here that the Talisman's powers were used for the transferal of supernatural energies, form one entity to another, or to a higher power altogether."
"What does that even mean?" Dawn asked, incredulous.
"It means that, say for example, if witches were casting a spell or something along those lines..." Willow paused, struggling to form an acceptable answer, "they could use the Talisman to transfer their energies towards it, or into one another to make it stronger, for a better effect. It's...complicated."
"Well," Buffy interrupted, "what does that mean for us?"
"The Talisman was broken," Willow responded, eyes scrolling over the screen. "whatever happened between you is...irreversible." She read more in silence, before leaning back. Eyebrows disappearing behind her bangs, she exhaled before rubbing the side of her neck. A troubled expression claimed dominance over her plain features, before she lifted her gaze. "Unless..."
"Unless?"
"Unless one of you dies."
Gile's coughed, before sinking down onto the couch beside Xander and Anya, who both looked rather taken aback.
"What?" he asked stupidly, removing his glasses.
"It... it makes sense, though," Willow began quickly, "I mean, we have no other way to reverse the spell, and if one of you dies, the supernatural energy is released, and would return to the original owner."
"That's bloody ridiculous," Spike hissed.
"I'm not saying it's a good idea!" Willow yelled, "I would never even think of it! It's just... that's how a lot of things like this work."
Dawn lifted her gaze, and Buffy's stare locked onto hers.
A slow realization began to grow, and she bit her lower lip.
The knot forming inside of her tightened, and her brief moment of jealousy vanished. Only to be replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread.
What now?