Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fan Fiction ❯ S W I T CH. ❯ The first of many Nights ( Chapter 4 )

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

"Now, Bit," Spike began cautiously, "this isn't really the way to be approaching this sort of situation."
"Why?" Dawn asked, glancing over her shoulder. Irritation bubbled inside of her at the sight of his face, and her slender fingers curled more securely around the stake she held in her hand. "Buffy does it like this all of the time."
They had been following a clan of vampires for the past three nights, with the help of Xander and Willow, who had offered on each occasion to come with, albeit the bibles and crosses held tightly to their chests. It seemed they were more frightened of Dawn's inexperience than anything, which only led the newly-found Slayer to deeper frustration. They had finally managed to corner the clan in a small crypt, and Spike now stood near the barricaded door, ready to rip it from its hinges once the young girl gave the word.
But her hands had begun to tremble at the thought of stepping into a room with six blood thirsty vampires. And so she had turned to hide her anxiousness from the only person who's opinion mattered. At least, to her anyway. She didn't want Spike to know how scared she was, because she had been the one who insisted on hunting, and carrying on as if there hadn't been a huge problem.
"Come on, love," Spike pleaded, his hand resting on the door despite his words, "we can regroup, we know where they're staying now. It won't be a big deal to call in some backup."
"Like who?" Dawn snapped, whirling around on her heel. Her hair, which had been gathered up into a messy ponytail, blew around her face in the humid California breeze. "Buffy? I'm not good enough or something? I have all of her powers now. Why doesn't anybody think I can do this?"
"It's not that we think you can't, Dawny," Xander spoke up, coming round the side of the crypt with a nervous smile, "it's just Buffy has had more...erm...experience dealing with this sort of thing. Sure you've been endowed with all the mighty powers of the Slayer, but you don't really know how to use them."
"Xander is right," Willow quipped, "we have full faith in you. Really. We just don't want you to get hurt."
Her gaze moved from Xander's tousled mess of dark, curly hair, to Willow's pale face, nervous smile, and windblown mane. Spike stood rigid, hand still poised if she were to say anything, but his jaw was set and he looked apprehensive. That was when she realized that it was up to her. All of it. Regardless of whether or not they went through with this tonight, it was her decision. Butterflies danced inside her stomach, and her grip on her stake was clammy. Wiping her hands off on her shorts, she took another moment to think—or more, weigh the options, before shaking her head violently.
"I don't care. I want to do this. Spike, the door."
Incredulous, Spike obeyed more out of shock than anything. The door crumbled easily under his fingers, and the surprised yells from within the crypt were nothing but expected. They moved, like Spike and Dawn had planned, inside, with Spike taking the lead. Xander and Willow immediately followed suit, standing at the entrance with crosses at the ready. Spike heard Willow murmuring something under her breathe—he briefly wondered if it was an incantation of some sort, but couldn't be assed to wonder any longer when he caught sight of one of the larger vampires taking charge at Dawn.
He yelled her name—knocked one of the other vampires into a pillar in his attempt to get to her, and was briefly dumbfounded when she slid under the vampire's fist with ease, spun around on her heel and slammed the stake into his ribcage through his back. The yellow eyes blinked a blink of surprise, before he muttered, "Fuck," and exploded into ash. She continued on to the next vampire, and as Spike finally gathered his wits, he joined in.
He took three of the vampire's out alone, and dusted one with the help of Dawn. This left two. A man, and a woman. Their eyes gleamed in the darkness of the crypt, and white fangs flashed as their lips drew back into snarls.
"What's this?" the man questioned, "This isn't the Slayer. Yet she kills as if she is. I'll rip your throat out, little girl."
Lunging forward, Dawn let out a squeak of surprise when the female slid behind her unexpectedly fast. Spike snarled, several feet away, and feeling his own features change, he roared, "Bloody hell you will," before slipping between them with inhuman speed. His fingers closed in a satisfyingly tight grip around the male's windpipe, and turning, he slammed him up against the wall and crushed it in his hands.
"Spike!" Dawn yelled, her voice panicked. Whipping his head around, Spike's eyes narrowed, before he let out a savage snarl. The female had bitten her, and was feeding from her neck. Blood dribbled down the side of Dawn's throat, and her struggles were becoming noticeably weaker. It didn't take Spike long to pry her from the bitch, and he made quick work of tearing off her head, before slipping his arm around Dawn's tiny waist to support her as her knees buckled.
"Dawn," he spoke firmly, dropping to his knees to lower her to the ground, "Dawn. Look at me."
Dawn blinked slowly, her eyes roaming over the ceiling before focusing on Spike. She frowned, and Spike forced his muscles to relax. As his human features claimed dominance over the ridges on his forehead, and his eyes changed from a ghastly yellow to a pale blue, her expression softened before she let out an incoherent murmur. Xander and Willow came running into the crypt, then, dropping their crosses in order to join Spike on their knees around her.
"Is she okay?" Xander asked, sounding panicked, "Oh God, I knew we shouldn't have done this. We should have just gotten someone else to help Spike."
"Calm down," Spike demanded, turning Dawn's lolling head to the side. "The bite is deep, but there isn't much blood. The Bit's just in shock." Lifting his eyes, he locked gazes with Xander, "being bitten by a vampire isn't a pleasant experience. But, fortunately for her, she'll heal fast. Should be right as rain tomorrow."
"Right as rain?" Willow asked incredulously, her voice rising to a shriek, "she almost got her—her throat torn out! Shouldn't we take her to a hospital?"
Spike ignored her panic, and gently cradled Dawn's lithe form against him. Getting to his feet, he ignored the urge to agree with Willow, and forced himself to think rationally despite the distress welling up inside of him. Of course this was Dawn, but the Platelet was endowed with the powers of the Slayer now. Buffy would have gotten through this in a cinch—in fact she'd gotten through worse. True, it was a bad bite, but the wound itself was already closing. A shower, clean clothes, and rest was all she needed.
"We'll just get her home," he bit out finally, turning to meet Willow's wide, worried eyes. "You best let Buffy know we're coming, and to have a hot bath or something ready for her."
"What do I do?" Xander asked, as he stood with the others.
"Get the hell out of my way, you twit," Spike retorted, nudging past him. Xander let out an annoyed noise, but due to the situation, refrained from any sarcastic remarks. They left the cemetery in a hurry as Willow called Buffy, and Xander fumbled with the keys to his car.
The room was dimly lit, the only source of light a set of candles in each adjacent corner. It cast a pale yellow gleam onto the stones beneath her feet, and eery shadows danced along the walls. Dawn glanced around uneasily, her hands held to her chest in apprehension despite the stake clutched in her grip. Something didn't feel right here, and it was unnerving.
"So you're the one they picked," a deep voice rang out within the spaces the candle's light did not reach, "you're the Slayer."
"Wh-who's there?" Dawn asked quickly, whirling around on her feet. Pale eyes searching the confines of the room to gauge the others' presence. Her anxiety worsened when she saw nothing but light and shadows. "I have a stake," she continued, her voice sounding more sure of herself.
"A stake is only good to those who know how to use it," chuckled the voice. "Don't fool yourself into thinking I fear you simply because you have borrowed powers."
"They aren't borrowed!" Dawn snapped, "They're—they're permanent. And I know how to use them, so don't think for a second you can do whatever you like."
"I'm not here to harm you," the voice began, sounding amused, "on the contrary, I'm here to issue a warning."
A long pause, and Dawn frowned. Her grip tightened on the stake as she continued to spin slowly on her feet, eyes still searching the shadows.
"A warning?"
"The gifts that have been traded can be returned to their rightful owners. But the decision that needs to be made upon the return of these powers will end badly for only one."
"You mean one of us has to die," Dawn nodded, knowingly. "I knew about that part already."
"There is more to it than that," the voice cut in, "death does not always mean the end of existence. How you choose to go about this is your own decision, but keep in mind great things can come ofthe right one."
"Dawn."
Blinking, Dawn squinted in the light as the candles grew brighter, and the shadows vanished.
"Dawn."
Eyelashes fluttering, Dawn let out a groan and startled herself awake. She was aware of being very warm, and very comfy. Turning her head, she winced as a mild ache swam up along her throat and under her jaw.
"What?" Dawn asked, her voice coming out as nothing but a whisper. Coughing, she cleared her throat before speaking more clearly, "What's going on?"
"Oh thank God," Buffy breathed a sigh of release, running her hands through her hair. "You were unconscious for a day and a half. How are you feeling? Are you hungry? Is your neck alright?"
"I'm...thirsty," she responded, pulling herself up onto her elbows. Glancing around, she took in her surroundings. She was in her bedroom, and the room was dimly lit. Her night side lamp gave off a gentle glow, and the covers had been drawn up to her chin. She lightly touched the side of her neck—which was bandaged, before remembering what had happened. Grimacing at the memory of angry teeth sinking into her skin, she shrank back down into the mattress.
"I'll go get you a glass of water," Buffy began sternly, "Stay put."
Like I'm going anywhere.
She lay there as her sister left the room, trying to make out the indistinct murmurs that were taking place downstairs. She heard someone scoff—and her heart seized a moment when she recognized Spike's gaudy English drawl. Cheeks filling with crimson, she recalled him picking her up and carrying her to the car—as well as sitting with her head in his lap, threading his fingers through her hair the entire way back to the house. After that it wasn't very clear, and all she could recall then was a distorted voice and flickering candles.
Candles?
Weird.
Buffy returned soon after with a glass of water, as well as a train of people. Giles greeted her with a warm, relieved smile as he awkwardly side-stepped into the small room, and Willow squished in beside Buffy. Xander lingered by the doorway, and Dawn couldn't help her gaze travel past his shoulder, towards where she hoped Spike would be. His absence was disappointing, especially because she knew that he had been downstairs, but kept her mouth shut as Willow swept over and engulfed her in a tight hug.
Smoke drifted in tendrils from his nostrils, and Spike lounged against the large tree placed in the boulevard just across from the Summer's home. His eyes were fixed to the second floor window, where a dim light shone through the closed drapes. He had chosen not to go up with the rest of them, and claimed his addiction to cigarettes as an excuse to go outside. Taking a long, deep drag, he breathed in an unnecessary breathe before kicking the stump in mild frustration.
He couldn't explain how he'd felt, when everything had taken place. It had all been so bloody sudden, and Dawn had surprised him more than anything. She had moved effortlessly and with grace he hadn't even seen Buffy posses. She had seemed sure of herself, and nothing in her face had given away if she were feeling anxious about anything. The vampire had caught both of them off guard—he'd moved quicker than any other he'd seen, and he was angry at himself that he hadn't gotten to her sooner.
And this is what was currently plaguing his thoughts.
Of course, he could chalk it up to the Bit being like a little sis' to him and all that.
But even if that's what he told others, and even if that's what he told himself,
a part of him was starting to doubt it. And it worried him.
Seeing her fight, and fighting with her, had almost been reminiscent of the times he'd fought side-by-side with Buffy, back when things hadn't been so bloody complicated. It had sent adrenaline through his veins, passion for the hunt, and something else. Something he wasn't entirely ready to mull over.
Finishing his cigarette, he threw the butt onto the ground, and stalked back towards the house. Maybe it was asking too much, but he'd wanted to see Dawn alone. He just hoped everyone had had their fill, making sure she really was alright and what not. Setting his jaw, he stepped into the kitchen and made his way to the stairs. Xander was in the living room, and he met Willow half way to the second floor.
"She's alright," Willow smiled easily, before continuing down, past Spike. He hid his grimace as he continued up the steps, and proceeded towards Dawn's room. Giles stood outside, and he cleared his throat as Spike stopped at the closed door.
"What?" he asked irritably, "is it like, a girls thing? Everybody else got their visit, why can't I have a talk with the Bit now that she's conscious?"
"Buffy's talking to her," Giles responded dryly, adjusting his spectacles.
"Talking to, or at?" Spike grumbled, stepping back to lean against the wall adjacent the door. "Reprimanding her for doing something in a way she would have done, too?"
"Come on now," Giles responded in an annoyed tone, "this is the first time she's been in a serious fight with a vampire, and she was severely injured. You know as well as I how uneasy Buffy is about all of this. It's tearing her apart."
"She should have more faith," Spike snorted, "she's stronger than you all think she is."
"Be that as it may," Giles continued, "she's still a child. Unlike Buffy, who had proper training and guidance, this has all come on to her with no warning. While we understand that this is a necessity in order to keep things running smoothly...it does in no way mean any of us are happy about it. Especially considering we're to rely on you, for her safety."
"Bloody hell," Spike scoffed, rolling his eyes, "you lot have it in for me, don't you? I understand that you dislike me for boning your Slayer, but come on now. What have I done to make you think I would ever let any harm come to Dawn?" A pause. "Tonight was an accident. Accidents happen. She's alive, and she's going to stay that way. Don't blame me because I can't be six bloody places at once."
Giles heaved a heavy sigh, and refrained from commenting. They stood there in tense silence for maybe ten minutes, when Buffy finally opened the door and stepped outside. Her face was taut, lips pursed, eyes hard. Spike made direct contact with her gaze, and they simply looked at one another for a moment.
"She wants to see you," she bit out. "for some reason."
Spike licked his lips, cocked his head and lifted his eyebrows, offering nothing but a smug smirk, before pushing past her and heading into the room.
Dawn lay buried under a mound of blankets, and her small frame looked even smaller due to the articles of cloth piled upon her. He tried not to snicker as she sat up, her eyes huge in the dark, skin waxen from loss of blood, and expression tense.
Stopping at the foot of her bed, Spike cleared his throat.
"You alright, then?"
"I've been better," she responded, "but I'll live."
"'Course you will, love," Spike said cheerfully, "you've got me watching out for you, don't you?"
She smiled then, and if his heart could race, it would have. She looked very tired.
"Don't worry pet, you'll be feeling fine tomorrow."
"I had a dream," she cut in suddenly, eyes on the blankets.
"Oh, really, now?" Spike asked, before taking a seat at the foot of the bed. "Was it filled with boys and shopping?" he teased, trying to lighten the mood.
"No," Dawn responded seriously. She met his gaze, and frowned, looking genuinely confused.
"Well then, what was it about?"
"It was a voice," she explained, "it told me that I was going to get my powers back. Or that Buffy would get hers back, but I had to make a choice."
Interest piqued, Spike cocked his head. "Oh yeah? What else happened?"
"It said that if I made the right choice, something great would happen. And then it told me that death doesn't always mean the end of existence."
Frowning now, the Vampire rubbed his chin, before letting out an unneeded breath.
"Odd," he spoke aloud, "did you tell Buffy about this?"
"Are you kidding?" Dawn asked, "she'd think I'm crazy or something. I know she's still upset about the whole 'one of us has to die' thing."
"True," Spike agreed with a nod. "Well I'll tell you what, I'll look into it. See what little tid bits the big Bad can get his hands on. Sounds like you've got the makings of a premonition or...something of the like. Never was very good with that sort of thing."
Dawn smiled and nodded, and Spike was about to stand when she grabbed his hand.
An electric shock ran from the tips of his fingers up his arm, and he looked to Dawn. Her eyes were wide, lips parted, and she slowly let go of his hand. She had felt it too.
"Sorry," she began, "I mean, thanks for helping me."
Forcing a smile, Spike tousled her hair gently before hastily leaving the room.
What the hell was that?
Okay so, the shock hadn't been part of her imagination. She'd registered the surprise in his expression enough to realize that. And as she'd let go of his hand, and muttered an awkward thank you, he'd simply nodded before tousling her hair and excusing himself. A sort of tension left the room with his absence, and she sank back down onto the bed with a heavy sigh of...exasperation.
What had that been about? Her finger tips still thrummed with the peculiar feeling, and she lifted her hand to inspect it more closely. Nothing was wrong—fingers normal, skin smooth. Flawless.
Oh well, she thought, rolling onto her side, it's probably got something to do with the Talisman.