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Dawn bounces in the seat a little bit when they finally pull away from the building, and Spike protests with a mutter. "Sorry," she says, patting his shoulder.
"S'okay. Just take it easy there." He's quieter than usual, and she figures it's because he's hurt.
It's taken them a lot longer than she thought it would -- getting their stuff together didn't really take that long because most of it she didn't care about, but they'd had to paint all the back windows of Xander and Wesley's -- wow, weird combination there -- car so that Spike could ride in it.
"So where are we going?" Dawn asks after a minute.
"South," Wesley says, looking back at her from the front passenger seat. "Warmer, fewer vampires..."
"More sunshine," Spike says glumly.
"Yes, but we can make accommodations for one," Wesley says. "Whereas others will be more likely to settle in areas where the days are shorter."
Spike shifts his body a little bit on the seat and makes a pained noise that goes right to Dawn's stomach. "Not if everyone else has the same idea as you," he says. "Vamps will go where the food is."
Dawn looks down at him, sliding her fingers through his hair gently while he and Wesley, with the occasional comment from Xander, argue about where they're going to go. She wonders if she should point out that this might have been a good conversation to have before they, I don't know, left the school, but she's too busy being grateful that Spike's okay. And it's nice to be able to touch him like this, to kind of make him feel better, even a little bit, while he's too distracted to pretend that he doesn't like it.
"It's okay," she says quietly, just for him, when there's a pause. "It'll still get dark at night just like everywhere else. And I can stay up with you. It'll be good."
And Spike turns his head on her thigh so he can see her. His eyes look darker than usual, and kind of soft. "Yeah. It'll be good." He puts a hand up and rubs her cheek, and she smiles.
When she looks up again, Xander is watching her in the rearview mirror. He turns around, a quick glance because hello, he's driving, and then looks forward again. But he doesn't say anything.
Dawn thinks that she'll have to talk to him later, so that she can explain about her and Spike. Wow, so not looking forward to that conversation.
"Got something to say, Harris?" Spike asks.
Or, you know, they could talk about it now.
"Who me?" Xander says, not even glancing in the mirror now. "Nah. What could I have to say about the fact that you're all over Dawn like a cheap shirt?"
"All the shirts are cheap now, they're bloody free," Spike says, almost like he's bored. He doesn't sound mad, at least, and that's good. She thinks.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Xander sounds irritated.
"She's right here," Spike says, defending her ability to stand up for herself, which gains him so many points as far as Dawn is concerned. "She's not a piece of furniture -- ask her about it, if you want to know."
Eep.
That's not exactly what Dawn was hoping for -- she's not sure she's ready to try to explain this to anyone, especially Xander, and now she's, like, on the spot. "Wait. Who's a cheap shirt?"
Xander glances at her, his eye meeting both of hers in the mirror for like a split second. "It's just... you guys seem, you know. Pretty touchy-feely."
"And?" Dawn can feel her jaw tightening.
"And he's a vampire," Xander says.
"A vampire that's spent the past what, year and a half helping you lot save the world," Spike puts in, like he can't keep his mouth shut. Which, okay, is probably true.
Dawn thinks the 'save the world' thing must strike them all the same way, because for a really, really long minute the inside of the car is totally quiet.
"Perhaps this isn't the best time to discuss this," Wesley says.
Since he's facing forward, Dawn can sort of study him without him knowing. He looks -- well okay, maybe not actually all that different, but somehow he seems different anyway. It's mostly that his hair is messy instead of perfect, and his clothes are normal instead of being all Mr-Proper-Suit-Guy. He has stubble on his face too.
It's when he talks that you really notice it though.
In Sunnydale, Wesley was... well, there might not be a polite way to put it. But he talked too much about stuff no one cared about, and he didn't care about the right things. Plus he was a jerk and he walked like his shirt still had the hanger in it.
Now he doesn't say much at all, and when he does, it's in that soft voice that makes everyone listen, especially Xander. Well, except for when he was holding the gun on Peter. Then Wesley had sounded cold and hard, like some kind of... convict, or something.
Dawn's cautiously optimistic about him, she decides. He obviously has more of a clue than he used to, and Xander trusts him, so...
She gets that Xander doesn't want to talk about what happened to his eye -- it's not like talking about it will change anything, and mostly, talking about stuff you can't change just makes you feel bad. She wonders if it's all icky underneath the eye patch, or just, like, an empty socket. Okay, she's grossing herself out.
Her fingers are gently stroking through Spike's hair again, and he makes a little noise of appreciation, rubbing his cheek against her thigh. "You okay?" she asks.
"Been better," Spike says.
"You're going to need more blood," Dawn says, a little bit more loudly than she needs to because she wants Wesley and Xander in the front seat to hear too.
"Well he sure as hell can't have mine," Xander says.
"Wouldn't take it if you were the last man on earth," Spike says. Wesley turns to look at him. "No offense, mate."
Wesley actually looks kind of... amused, or something. "None taken."
"He won't anyway," Dawn says. "Not even mine. I asked. Kind of." She'd more hinted really.
Xander's hands tighten on the wheel, but he doesn't turn around. "What, you just said, 'Hey Spike, if you start feeling hungry, feel free to consider me a walking, talking snack bar?'"
Dawn rolls her eyes. "Yeah, that's exactly what I said."
"Doesn't matter what she said," Spike says. "'Cause I said no."
A tiny pause. "Well... good." Xander glances at Wesley and slows down the car -- SUV, really -- to go around another one that's abandoned in the middle of the highway. "We're gonna need gas soon."
Wesley leans over and looks at the dashboard. "Next exit?" he suggests.
"Yeah."
Dawn isn't sure if she should be glad that the conversation about the blood thing is over, or worried because she knows they're going to have to go back to it at some point in time, but she doesn't want Spike to be all stressed about it. Which he is, even if he'd deny it. She can tell just by the way his shoulder is tense. She rubs it, trying to get the muscle to loosen up, but doesn't say anything.
She wonders if it's possible to get, like, poisoned from secondhand testosterone.
"So, we're gonna stop soon?"
Xander nods. "Yeah."
"Good," Dawn says.
"Are you all right?" Wesley asks, turning to look at her.
"Yeah. I just have to... you know." She widens her eyes a little bit, although she's not sure why. It's not like doing that's going to tell Wesley that she has to pee.
But surprisingly, he seems to get it anyway. "We'll find somewhere with a bathroom then."
"Cool." Dawn thinks Wesley's probably just realizing now what a pain it's going to be to have her and Spike around -- a girl who can't just relieve herself on the side of the road the way guys can, and a vampire who can't be out during daylight hours.
They pull off the highway. "Gotta be a gas station around here somewhere," Xander mutters, then he spots one and drives over, stopping the car next to some others instead of near the pumps.
"How are you going to get gas from over here?" Dawn asks, confused.
"We have a system," Wesley says calmly, bending forward like he's reaching for something under his seat. "In any case, most of the pumps don't work anymore."
"Oh, right." Dawn slides sideways, grabbing her sweater off the floor and then sliding it under Spike's head so she can get up. "Don't try to get up or anything, okay? We don't want you bleeding all over the car." Saying it makes her think about their other car, the one that she ruined before they got to the school and Peter.
Spike grimaces. "Don't worry -- not planning on going anywhere." He looks meaningfully toward the door. "Sunshine, remember?"
They set up the side sliding door of the car with a heavy black blanket over it to make going in and out easier, and Dawn slips between the two carefully before opening the door and stepping out into the daylight.
She looks around. It seems weird to be outside during the day -- she has to squint against the glare -- but everything's totally quiet. She spots the restroom sign on the side of the building.
"I'll be right back," she says.
The bathroom is totally gross -- dingy, the inside of the toilet bowl practically brown, although Dawn is pretty sure that's because the water's been sitting in it for a long time. It doesn't really smell or anything -- at least, not like anything but mildew. She pees quickly -- it feels weird leaving Spike, even if she knows he's with Xander and Wesley -- but when she goes to wipe, there's blood.
Great.
Not that there's ever a good time to get your period, but when you're with three guys in a car, it's pretty inconvenient. Not to mention she doesn't think she brought the tampons with her when they left, so even if she wanted to go back to the car and get them, she can't.
Dawn glances around the room and, wonder of wonders, there's actually a tampon dispenser on the wall. Now, with her luck it just has to be empty, right?
Nope. Tampons galore.
Unable to believe it, she takes care of her little problem and sticks the other tampons into the pocket of her jeans. Washes her hands -- well, rinses them anyway -- and unlocks the bathroom door.
Steps out into the sunshine.
And the SUV is gone.
Spike's not even sure how it happens -- it's quick, plus he can't see out the windows. Harris and Wesley get out, presumably to start fiddling around with the petrol. He hears the very faint sound of the bathroom door opening and closing as Dawn goes in and then, much closer, a muffled sound and a dull thump, and the blanket covering the door's being opened.
He pulls back from it instinctively as the sunshine comes pouring in, scrabbling as far over on the seat as he can as Wesley's unconscious form is dumped onto the floor
"What the bloody hell...?"
"Shut up, vampire," the Grak'cktar demon that's pushing its way into the vehicle growls, jamming the muzzle of its gun into Spike's side not far from where he's still oozing blood from the last bullet. He grits his teeth and manages not to make any noise about it -- whatever the hell's going on, it might be better if the demons -- he can hear at least one more outside -- don't know he's hurt.
Harris gets back in the driver's seat. There's blood running down the side of his face and matted into his hair, and he's holding up his hands when he can, trying to indicate to the other Grak'cktar that he's not gonna try anything funny. Other one's got a gun too, and comes around to get into the passenger seat, gesturing at Harris with it. "Drive," it says.
Xander glances back, his eye moving over Wesley's still form and then up to meet Spike's.
He can see right away that Xander knows better than to mention Dawn, not that leaving her here on her own's much better than protecting her from these blokes.
"Where do you want me to go?" Xander asks.
The demon sitting next to Spike slides the door shut, carelessly letting another shaft of sunlight into the back seat. "That way," it says, gesturing back in the direction they've come from.
"You want to kill us?" Spike says, knowing what the Grak'cktar's have got planned for the humans anyway -- known delicacy. "You want the car? What?"
"Eh, we're greedy," the demon in the front seat says. "Want both." It turns around and looks at him appraisingly. "And you."
Brilliant.
Wesley stirs briefly on the floor, and Spike leans down and pats his shoulder. "Easy, mate."
They've started down the road away from the petrol station, Spike trying not to think about how Dawn's going to react when she comes out and finds herself alone.
He sits up straight again, watching Harris' face in the crooked rearview mirror and cursing whatever it is that makes it so Harris can't see him back. A little eye contact could come in handy about now. "What do you want with me then?" he asks, since there's no point in keeping quiet. "I'm dead, I'm no good to you either way."
The Grak'cktar next to him smiles a sharp-toothed lizard grin. "Oh, we have plenty of use for you, vampire."
Not sure he likes the sound of that.
On the floor, Wesley groans and stirs some more. Starting to come around, seems like. Spike leans down again, trying not to favor his gut, and brushes Wesley's long hair away from his face so he can see his eyes. "Easy," he says again, running his fingers over Wesley's skull and finding a big knot on the back of his head.
Wesley turns his head slowly and blinks, his gaze meeting Spike's and sharpening with understanding of the situation way quicker than Spike would have given him credit for. He coughs, brings a hand up to his face, and nods, just a tiny motion of his chin.
His foot kicks upward, boot slamming into the Grak'cktar's clawed hand and knocking the gun free to clatter into the well on the other side of the blanket.
The demon in the front seat whips around, gun still pointed at Harris, and Spike doesn't hesitate, just throws himself toward it. He gets hold of the demon's forearm and forces the muzzle of the gun toward the front of the car. It goes off, the sound loud in the enclosed space, tiny perfect hole and a cobweb of cracks appearing in the windshield as Harris swears and ducks and the car swerves wildly.
Grak'cktars are strong, but no stronger than vampires, and Spike has the beauty of adrenaline on his side as the two of them struggle briefly over the gun. Lucky thing they're driving away from the sun or the front seat'd be full of daylight, Spike thinks, then manages to wrestle the gun away. It flips through the air, up over the steering wheel, and lands on the dash for a few seconds before skittering down into Harris' lap. Xander swears again, car swerves again as he steps on the brakes and Spike uses the motion of the car to get the heel of his hand onto the Grak's chin and snap its neck.
Turns back toward Wesley, who's somehow managed to get hold of the gun and has it pointed at the second demon's temple. "I don't think it deserves to live, do you?" Wesley asks flatly.
"No argument from me," Spike says, and almost instantaneously Wesley pulls the trigger and the Grak'cktar's head explodes, most of it flying onto the blanket behind it.
In the front seat, Xander clears his throat. "Great," he says wearily. "Now we're gonna have to find a new blanket."
Wesley's swaying a bit on his knees, face pale, gun wavering in his hand. Spike takes it from him gently and pushes him down into a sitting position on the floor. "You okay to drive?" he asks Harris.
Xander is watching Wesley worriedly, but he nods. "Yeah, I'm okay."
"Then get this bloody thing turned around and back where we came from," Spike says, kicking the Grak'cktar's body down behind the blanket as best he can and tucking the gun behind the front seat before turning Wesley's face to look at him. Wesley's eyes are glassy and dazed, like he can't focus properly behind the glasses that are, surprisingly enough, still on after all this. "Think he cracked your skull?"
Wesley blinks, but has better sense than to shake his head. "No, I don't think so."
"Good." Last thing they need is someone with a serious injury slowing them down.
Harris gets the car facing the other direction and starts driving. The sun's starting to set, but it's right in front of them now, so Spike's got to keep back. Can't see anything that way, so he keeps an eye on Wesley instead, tense until he hears a sigh of relief from Xander.
"She's there," Xander says. "I can see her, she's fine."
"She won't be fine until she's back in this car," Spike says, but he can't deny to himself that he's relieved as well.
Another minute and the car stops, Harris putting it into park. He hands the other gun back to Spike without a word, then he gets out, leaving the engine running in what Spike thinks is a stupid move.
"Sorry," he hears Harris say. "There was this little thing with a kidnapping. Or maybe it was a car-jacking. Anyway... you okay?"
Spike can hear the relief in Dawn's voice too when she answers. "Yeah. Are you guys okay?"
"Uh-huh. Too bad I can't say the same for the inside of the car." Harris opens the passenger side door, says, "Look out," and dumps the Grak'cktar's body out onto the road. "Here, get in front, Wes is in back."
Dawn climbs in and looks back at Spike. He can just about smell the fear on her -- unless that's the little bits of Grak'cktar brains that are spattered all over the blanket.
"Look out, Spike," Harris says, sliding the back door open so that he can dump the second body out too. He sticks his head in tentatively, trying, Spike thinks, not to get demon guts on him. "Wesley? You okay?"
Wesley raises his head from where he's been resting it on his arm and looks at Xander. "I'm all right. It's not the first time."
"Yeah, I know. That's kind of why I was worried."
"What happened to Wesley?" Dawn asks, shutting her door.
"Bit of a bump on the head," Spike tells her. "You all right?"
She nods. "Other than the mild freakage that occurred when I came out and you guys were gone? Yeah."
Harris shuts the door and comes around, gets in and puts the car back into drive, turning it around again to take them back to the highway. "I think it's time we find somewhere to hole up for the night -- it's gonna be dark soon." He glances into the rearview mirror, and Spike can tell he's worried about Wesley.
Wesley must be able to tell too. "Don't stop early on my account," he says, from his position with his head cradled on his arm again. "Spike?"
"Yeah?"
"Beneath your seat there's a first aid kit with chemical cold packs in it. Would you get one out for me please?"
Spike reaches underneath and feels around until his hand makes contact with a cardboard box -- not a proper first aid kit, but it'll do. Puts the gun in the box -- might come in handy at some point. Takes him a minute to locate one of the cold packs and read the instructions, then he activates it, working it with both hands before passing it to Wesley.
"Thank you," Wesley says, holding it over the knot and wincing.
"Not a problem, mate." Spike suddenly catches the faint scent of blood. Not Harris' -- that's been a fine tuned little symphony since he got back into the car the first time with it running down the side of his face -- and not, he thinks, Wesley's. "You hurt anywhere else?" he asks anyway.
Wesley closes his eyes. "No."
"Bit? You okay?"
"What?" Dawn says, looking back at him again. "Yeah, I'm okay. Didn't we already do this part?"
"You're bleeding." He says it flatly, surely.
Dawn looks confused. "No, I'm -- oh." She flushes, the color pale peach along her right cheekbone instead of its more normal pink because of the sunset ahead. "Yeah."
Harris glances over at her from behind the wheel. "You're hurt."
"No," Dawn says, with that little upswing in her voice that should be fair warning not to push further into the conversation.
"Then what... oh." Xander sounds mildly horrified. "Thanks for bringing that to everyone's attention, Spike."
Dawn is hiding her face in her hands.
"It's perfectly natural," Wesley offers, without moving. Spike's surprised he's even managed to follow the conversation. "There's no reason to be embarrassed."
"Oh my God," Dawn mutters. "This is so not what I needed."
None of the men reply. Spike thinks it's because they don't know what to say.
They keep driving.
It's way after dark by the time they finally get settled, but Dawn doesn't really care. She's not tired.
The house is in the middle of nowhere -- well, not really, but it's the only one on the street, and that makes it feel safer. They don't have to worry about people or demons hiding out in other houses, because there aren't any.
Dawn's not stupid. She knows that in some ways other people are just as scary as the monsters are.
There's a really big living room with a bunch of couches and a fireplace, like whoever used to live here threw lots of parties. She can almost picture it -- a long table over against the far wall, piled high with fancy dishes and food, and candles everywhere, and people in fancy clothes. The men in suits, or even tuxes, and the women in long dresses with high heels and lots of sparkly jewelry.
She looks down at her own grubby clothes and sighs.
Spike collapses onto one of the couches with a groan, and Wesley sinks down onto another one while Xander goes over and checks out the fireplace. It's dark, and they have a couple of good battery operated lanterns, but a fire would be nice. Cosy.
"I'm gonna go find a bathroom," Dawn says, and Spike turns his head to look at her.
"You want someone to go with you?"
"I think I can handle it," she says.
She takes one of the lanterns with her. The rest of the house -- the hallways especially -- is darker than that one big room, but it doesn't seem spooky or anything. It's kind of peaceful, and she wants to explore, but first things first.
The bathroom smells a little funny, which is kind of normal, she remembers. She's just glad that there's water, even if it's not hot, so that she can wash her hands after dealing with the whole tampon issue. She flushes the toilet and washes her hands, drying them on the little white laced navy blue towel that's hanging from the towel rack next to the sink before picking up the lantern again.
It's no surprise that the kitchen smells way more than a little funny, but Dawn knows that if she doesn't open the fridge at least it won't get worse. She goes through that room into another, smaller living room on the other side of it, then follows that one back around toward the front of the house until she finds a staircase leading up.
There are five bedrooms on the second floor, and two more bathrooms. Every room has its own theme, its own set of colors, all of them muted and pale like a Martha Stewart magazine or something. Pale yellow in the master bedroom, pale blue and green in what looks like a boy's room -- some kind of robot boy, Dawn figures, since it's way too neat to be the room of any actual boy -- and a pale peach in what must be a teenaged girl's room.
She looks through the drawers -- carefully, neatly, because it seems wrong to make a mess in this museum-like room -- and finds clothes that are close enough to her size, so she peels off the stuff she's been wearing and gets dressed again in some dead girl's clothes. Well, for all Dawn knows the girl isn't dead -- maybe she's halfway across the country in someone else's house, putting on a different girl's clothes -- but it seems pretty likely. It also seems kind of weird to put on someone else's panties, but heck, they're clean, and Dawn figures there are so many worse things that could happen to her than whatever might because she put on someone else's underwear.
Panties, khakis, and a red top with three quarter length sleeves -- she keeps her own bra -- and she feels better. There was something about wearing stuff that had Spike's blood on it -- even just little smears, since she'd left the really gross clothes back at the school that afternoon -- that bothered her. It's better wearing this stuff, even if it smells like someone else.
There's a dressing table against one wall, so Dawn takes the lantern again and goes over, sitting down on the little stool in front of it. In the mirror she looks pale, her eyes big and dark in her white face. Her hair is a mess, all tangled, and she reaches automatically for the brush on the shelf to her right to straighten it. She brushes with one hand, pulling through snarls so stubborn that it makes her eyes water to rip them free, and uses the other to look through the little drawers on both sides of the table. Makeup is tempting, but seriously impractical, and she's pretty sure Spike would look at her funny if she sprayed on some perfume.
Hair scrunchies, on the other hand, are a definite two thumbs up, and she uses one to pull her hair back into a ponytail before selecting a few more and slipping them into her pocket. That makes her remember the tampon stash in her old pants, so she goes back for those too, then decides that it's about time she went back downstairs.
"Get lost?" Spike asks when she goes back into the big room.
"Yeah," Xander says. "We were getting ready to send a search party."
"I could have," Dawn tells them, sitting down on the arm of Spike's couch. "This place is huge. Do you think some millionaire lived here or something?"
"Fat lot of good his money did him," Spike says, reaching out and rubbing her thigh gently. His hand stops moving. "You changed clothes."
"Uh-huh. There's a whole room full of stuff upstairs." She realizes she hasn't eaten in kind of a long time when her stomach growls. "Is anyone else hungry?"
Xander sits back on his heels and looks at the fire burning brightly in the fireplace. "I could do food. The post-apocalyptic meal -- it's not just a chore, it's an adventure."
Spike has his feet up on a small table, his boots unlaced like usual, and Wesley is slouched on his couch, his lips thin and pressed together like he's really hurting.
"I'll pass for now," Wesley says tiredly.
"You sure?" Xander asks, getting up and going over to him, moving the cold pack that Wesley still has held against his head and running his fingers through Wesley's hair. "Yeah, that's quite a bump."
"There might be some aspirin or something in the bathroom," Dawn says. "You want me to check?"
"Yeah," Xander says, answering for Wesley, who weirdly doesn't say anything about that. "Thanks."
"No problem." She takes the lantern back to the bathroom, where it takes less than a minute to find two bottles. She brings them, along with a glass of water, into the living room and hands them to Xander. "There's aspirin and tylenol -- I didn't know which one was better. For head things, I mean."
"Tylenol," Wesley says.
Xander takes two out and gives them to Wesley with the cup of water, watching anxiously as Wesley takes them. "You gonna be okay?"
Wesley smiles at him. "Of course. You know the drill."
"Wake you up every two hours," Xander recites, like they've done this more than once before. Dawn wonders if it's some kind of bad side effect of being a Watcher, the getting hit on the head thing. "Just try to stay awake for a little while, okay?"
"All right."
Dawn leads the way to the kitchen with Xander right behind her and they start going through the cabinets, looking for anything unopened, canned foods, stuff like that.
"Beef stew," Dawn says, setting it on the countertop. "Chicken soup, red beans, mandarin oranges. Ooh, maraschino cherries." Those are in a glass jar, but the seal is still good. She twists it open and takes a cherry out with her thumb and forefinger, looking at it for a second before popping into her mouth. She swoons. "Oh my god, these are so good."
"You could try something with actual nutritional value, you know," Xander says, but he's grinning at her as she eats another one.
"I like these," she says. "I'll eat other stuff too."
Xander rummages around in a drawer until he finds a can opener. Then, like he's trying to be casual, he asks, "So what's with you and Spike?"
Dawn frowns with the next maraschino cherry halfway to her mouth. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean," Xander says.
And yeah, she does, and she's not sure whether she should be flattered that Xander actually realizes how stupid she's not, or annoyed that he wants to talk about it. Talk her out of it, more like. "See, I kind of think it's none of your business."
"Okay, that's fair," Xander says. "Except for the part where it is my business, because we came a long way to find you and make sure you were okay, and somehow finding out that you and Spike have some kind of a... thing going on doesn't leave me with that impression."
"Why? Because he's a vampire? Or because you don't like him?"
"Both," Xander says. "Although on the subject of being fair, I'll point out that I didn't like it when Buffy and Angel had their thing going either, and Angel had a soul. Well, most of the time."
"Spike's good," Dawn argues.
"Just because he's got a chip in his head, that doesn't make him good," Xander says. "He's just like a dog with one of those muzzle things on. It doesn't mean he's not going to bite you the first chance he gets. And okay, I didn't mean that literally. I just meant... you can't count on him."
Dawn shakes her head, thinking she'd better not mention the whole chip-malfunction thing. It's probably better if Xander and Wesley don't know about that part. "I can," she says, pretty calmly. "You don't know because you haven't been... a lot of stuff happened. And I know I can trust him."
When she looks up, Xander is watching her. "Just -- please tell me you're not having sex with him."
Um... hm. Dawn figures she's past the point of lying -- shouldn't they all be? Seriously, it's not like Xander has any say in what she does, plus they have to be able to trust each other.
She can tell by his face that she's already waited too long, which she can't say she feels bad about, given that it means she doesn't have to actually answer. "I don't like this," Xander says finally.
"Yeah. I know." Dawn turns to look through the nearest couple of drawers until she finds some spoons. "You don't have to like it," she says quietly, gathering up the canned stuff into her arms. "I guess... well, you just have to get used to it."
Without waiting for him to say anything else, she heads back down the hallway to the living room, leaving Xander there with the rest of the food and the can opener and the lantern.
Dawn really hopes she doesn't trip in the dark and drop everything. That'd be such a typical way to spoil her cool exit.
Dawn and Xander eat dinner in the living room. Spike'd be able to tell that something happened between them by the slight strain in their voices, even if he hadn't managed to overhear a fair bit of what they said even from the kitchen. He's proud of Dawn for standing up for herself -- for not taking Harris' shit.
Wesley's quiet, refusing Xander's offers of food and staying very still on the couch. Need to keep an eye on him, Spike thinks. Could be he's more seriously hurt than he's letting on.
Dawn finishes eating a small can of honey roasted peanuts and licks her fingers. "So how did you know where we were? Was it, like, a magic thing?"
"Nah," Xander says, shaking his head. "It was more a word of mouth kind of thing. At first, anyway." He takes another huge bite of whatever it is he's eating, something straight out of a can. Eats like he's starving, and by the look of him and Wesley the two of them have been staying just this side of that.
"We searched Sunnydale for two days before leaving there," Wesley says quietly from the other couch.
"He did," Xander says, putting the empty can behind him on the edge of the hearth and opening a bag of crisps. "There wasn't any 'we' about it. I was... pretty out of it for a while." He looks over at Wesley, and Spike does too, in time to see a gentle smile on Wesley's face.
"But you were the one who overheard it," Wesley says.
"Well yeah, but... not like we both didn't overhear plenty of things we'd rather not have."
Spike guesses from the sound of Harris' voice that they heard some pretty horrific things. "You come across a lot of people then? Live ones, I mean."
"I wouldn't say a lot," Xander says, holding the open package of crisps toward Dawn, who takes a handful. "But some, yeah. And when there aren't a lot of people to talk to, you're kind of glad when all of a sudden there is. Apparently apocalypse and gossip-mongers go hand in hand."
"In hand in hand in hand," Dawn adds, snickering through her mouthful of crisps. Xander and Spike both look at her, and she says, "What? You know, if there were demons? And they had more than... two... hands. Okay, never mind." Still, she looks moderately happy, and that makes Spike smile too, even if she's a bit daft sometimes. Not like he's not used to that, after all. "So there were people talking about us?"
Xander nods. "This guy in Sunnydale, he'd heard about a vampire who came and shot up a building or something, rescuing a girl. So we thought..."
"You were right," Spike says, without moving. "I'd do anything for her. If you don't know that by now, you never bloody will."
Harris' one eye looks at him for a long, long time, while no one says anything. There's just the crackle of the fire and nothing else. Then Xander nods slowly. "So anyway," he continues, like there hadn't been an interruption, "we were going to head in the direction the guy thought maybe you'd gone." He's mostly talking to Dawn, but Spike doesn't feel like he's being ignored.
"Not that that would have worked out very well," Wesley says.
"We had to go back," Xander says. "To your house." He's apologetic. Least he's got enough sense to know that the thought of it might upset Dawn.
"How come?" she asks, quiet.
"We needed something that was yours." Xander glances at Wesley, then he eats another handful of crisps.
Wesley's voice is getting softer. "There's a spell," he says. "There were times when we weren't sure it was working -- it seemed as though you'd go in one direction and then turn around and head in the other. We weren't certain what was going on."
"So we just kept going," Xander says. "Then, when you stopped moving more than a little bit here and there, we knew we had a chance."
"If we hadn't met Peter..." Dawn looks at Spike. "You guys might never have found us."
It's his fault they met Peter, Spike thinks, but on the other hand it's a good thing they did. He doesn't think Dawn would still be alive if they hadn't.
"Well it's not like we were going to stop looking," Xander says. "We'd have caught up with you sooner or later. But I can't say I was sad when you decided to stay put for a while."
"Me either," Dawn says. She sounds wistful. "I mean, it was nice to have somewhere safe to be."
Spike snorts. "Safe if you think bunking up with the Boston Strangler's a good idea," he says.
"Why did you stop there?" Wesley asks from the other couch. Spike glances over at him and sees that his eyes are closed, like he's getting ready to drop off to sleep.
Dawn looks at Spike again, and for a minute he thinks maybe she wants him to tell it. But then she says, "I was kind of sick."
"Sick?" Xander's trying to sound casual, Spike's sure of it despite the fact that he's not succeeding. "Sick how? Like food poisoning?"
Dawn is looking down at the rug she's sitting on.
"She was pregnant," Spike says. "Lost it." He can see from her eyes when she looks up again that it was the right way to say it. Some words hurt more than others.
"Pregnant?" Xander says. "But you... how..."
"I'm pretty sure you can figure out how," Dawn says, a little bit flatly. "It just happened, okay? Anyway, it's over now."
They're quiet again. Spike sees Xander start to reach out to Dawn, like he's going to pat her shoulder or something, then pull his hand back without touching her.
"I'm sorry," Harris says finally. "I didn't... I don't know what to say."
"Don't have to say anything," Spike tells him, shifting slightly on the couch and wincing as his slowly healing gut wound twinges painfully. "It's in the past. Talking about it doesn't change it."
Dawn gives him that look again, gratitude with a little touch of hero worship in it, the look that Spike likes so well. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom again," she says, straightening up off the floor and moving to take the lantern they've shut off to conserve batteries with her.
When she's gone, Xander says it. "She was raped." It's not a question. He knows the answer, just wants confirmation.
"Yeah," Spike says. "Bunch of guys. Before we even left Sunnydale."
"God," Xander says. Then again, softer this time. "God."
"I'm thinking he left the picture a long time ago, if he ever existed in the first place," Spike says.
The fire spits and pops, and Xander turns to add another log before propping the screen in front of it. "Yeah," he says, like it's a revelation. "Yeah, I think you're right."
When Dawn comes back from the bathroom, they're all quiet. Worn out, Spike thinks. She brings some blankets and pillows with her, a big armful, and gives some to Wesley and Xander before coming over to Spike's couch.
He shifts so that she can curl up with him, draping the blanket over them both as she sighs and rests her head on his shoulder.
"Am I hurting you?" she whispers.
Not exactly comfortable, even if she's not lying right on his healing wound, but he wants to hold her, so he shakes his head and after a moment she relaxes against him. "Might not be the best place to sleep," he says softly. "You could take one of the other couches, maybe?" Not that he's trying to get rid of her, but she needs the rest.
"No, I want to stay with you," Dawn says. The sentiment warms him as much as her body does. "I mean... we could go upstairs, there's bedrooms and everything..." She yawns. "But I think we should all stay together."
"Yeah. S'all right. Go to sleep now."
Within minutes she's just about snoring on his shoulder. He shifts her a bit so that he doesn't have to listen to it, and she sniffles and settles back into a quieter sleep.
Spike lies there for a long time. Wesley falls asleep next, heavily, his breathing steady. Takes Harris a lot longer, over on the other couch, tossing and turning for more than an hour before finally dropping off. Something about lying there and listening to the three of them sleep is soothing, but it doesn't make him want to sleep himself.
He thinks about how Xander and Wesley followed them, looking for Dawn, wanting her safe. It makes him feel confused, know that they care about her that much -- or maybe only Harris does, and Wesley was just along for the ride. Although Spike gets the distinct feeling that there's been some riding on both sides of that equation. That surprises him -- not that Xander would want to, because he always suspected the urge was lurking there underneath the surface, like if it was denied long enough it'd wither and die, but that Xander would act on it.
End of the world makes you think about what's really important though, doesn't it.
Spike dozes off then, in and out for a few hours. Next time he wakes up properly, he knows right away that something made him wake up. A sound, something. He doesn't tense up much -- figures the four of them are a match for plenty of situations, even with his gut aching. He just stays still and listens.
Then relaxes as he realizes what it is.
"Shh," Xander whispers. "Here, just..." There's the soft hush of fabric on fabric, a slight grunt -- also from Harris, Spike thinks -- and then a sigh. "There. You okay?"
"Yes," Wesley says.
The voices are quiet, but Spike expects they'd be plenty loud enough for Dawn to hear if she were awake, so he doesn't move. He can't see them from where he is, but he picture it plain as day -- Harris on the same couch he'd been on, only now with Wesley draped on top of him.
"You're not going to be able to sleep like this," Xander says.
"It doesn't matter. I wasn't sleeping anyway." Wesley sighs again. It sounds like a combination of pain and exhaustion.
"I know." Spike can hear the gentle brush of a hand slipping between shirt and skin, rubbing soothingly. "Shh. It's okay." Wordless murmurs, then the soft sounds of kissing.
Spike lies there with Dawn cradled in his arms and drifts back to sleep.
When he wakes up again it's morning, and Dawn is standing next to the couch. He's cold, his skin where she was warming him until a minute ago more sensitive to the touch of the air now that she's gone. Spike looks up at her face, and she's got a bit of a deer in headlights expression, staring.
He sits up and looks where she's looking. Harris is on his back on the sofa with Wesley stretched out on top of him, Wesley's head cradled on his shoulder. Doesn't look comfortable, but Spike knows the emotional comfort is something else entirely.
"They're..." Dawn whispers. She sounds surprised, but not upset.
She doesn't really need an answer, so Spike just says, "Let them sleep, yeah?"
"Yeah, okay." She nods toward the hallway behind him. "I'll be right back."
Spike listens to her go off and shut the bathroom door. He rubs a hand over the mostly healed wound in his gut, feels the sensitive skin of the exit wound on his back. On the other couch, Wesley and Xander stir, then struggle to a sitting position awkwardly as they realize that Spike's awake and that Dawn must have seen them.
"Hey," Xander says, looking everywhere but at Spike. "We must've... um..."
"Relax, Harris," Spike says, amused. "I'm the last person you're gonna get grief from on that front." Wesley is looking at him speculatively, but doesn't say anything. No reason to think he hasn't guessed -- he's obviously not stupid, and if he was that close to Angel, chances are good he's been able to put two and two together to come up with five.
"What about Dawn?" Xander asks.
"She didn't disown the witches, did she?" Truth be told, Spike's not quite sure what Dawn thinks, but either way he figures she'll come around.
Xander's eye goes a little bit flat. It's almost enough to make Spike sorry for mentioning them. "Yeah, but... that was different," Xander says.
"Don't see why." Spike shrugs and then winces as the movement pulls at his gut. It occurs to him that it's a shame Harris didn't figure this out a year or two ago, when it would have made really spectacular blackmail material.
Instead of trying to explain how it's different -- thank fuck -- Xander says, "You really don't think she's going to freak out?" just as Dawn comes back, and Spike tries to hide his smirk.
"Freak out about what?" Dawn asks.
He might as well have some fun with it. "The fact that Harris and Wesley here are apparently shagging each other stupid whenever we're not looking." He glances at Xander's open mouthed expression and his smirk widens -- it's what this is about, seeing how Xander reacts. "Well okay, stupider, in Xander's case."
Dawn gives him a funny look. "Uh-huh." She looks at Xander and repeats, "Why would that make me freak out?"
"It's not like that," Xander says, glaring at Spike. If he had ten bucks for every time someone'd glared at him, he'd have been rich by now... and yeah, okay, it wouldn't have done him a bit of good, not with the way the world's turned out. Harris is trying to explain to Dawn, who doesn't look like she needs an explanation. "We're, you know..."
"We care about each other," Wesley says, coming to Xander's rescue.
"Well duh," Dawn says, pushing her hair back and putting her hands on her hips. "So what's for breakfast?"
They're back in the car an hour later, driving again.
She's sorry that they have to leave the house, but it's not like they can stay. Spike needs blood, for one thing, and even if they can ever really settle down anywhere, it's not going to be in some big house in the middle of nowhere. Well, unless it was a farmhouse or something. Dawn doesn't think that would be bad idea actually -- there could be, like, cows and things, for them to eat, and for Spike to get blood from.
Thinking of which, he's got to be hungry, even though he's not saying anything about it. Which isn't like him. He has that look though. Dawn feels guilty that she has this perfectly good -- well, totally gross, but not to Spike -- blood leaking out of her, and Spike needs it but there's nothing she can do. The thought of him licking down there makes her squirm on the seat next to him, and Spike's hand comes down on her thigh, squeezes, and Dawn just about comes in her seat.
Spike looks over at her, and she's pretty sure from his expression that he can tell exactly what she's thinking. She blushes and quickly says, "I wanted to go to New Orleans, but Spike said no." Anything for a new train of thought, right?
"I have to say I agree with him," Wesley says. He's still in the passenger seat, even though he said he could drive if Xander wanted him to, but he looks better than he did the day before. Not as pale and looking like he might throw up any second. "The city's probably crawling with vampires."
Xander says, "What we want to do is find somewhere safe to settle down. Somewhere the vampires won't want to go."
"I didn't want to go to New Orleans," Spike points out.
"I mean normal vampires," Xander says.
"Now I'm not normal? Like you've got so much basis for comparison." Spike sounds offended, but Dawn can tell it's a fake kind of offended.
"Hey, I had Angel hanging around mooning after Buffy in Sunnydale for, what, three years?" Xander says.
Wesley is sitting funny in the front seat, and everybody else is quiet.
"Hey, he could still be alive, right?" Dawn asks hopefully, leaning forward. "Or, you know... still undead, or whatever. Maybe he's trying to figure out a way to get back to L.A. right now."
"There won't be anything for him to find if he does," Wesley says. "Well... I did leave notes in a few places, spell-protected, just in case... but I don't think there's much hope." Dawn can tell by his voice that he really cared about Angel, and she wonders what that means to Xander, who never liked Angel, not really. She wonders if that's like a sticking point between them.
Six hours, one pee-break -- with Dawn silently thanking the Goddess of tampons -- and one lunch stop later, she's thinking that finding somewhere to settle down soon would be a good thing, if only because it would get her out of riding in a car with three men. Once Xander and Spike get past their little snark-fest, they just egg each other on toward worse and worse behavior. At one point there'd been almost a straight hour of dirty limericks, with Wesley supplying his fair share -- okay, maybe with a little bit less evil grinning than the other two, but still. It's like junior high all over again, which is seriously scary.
"There once was a man from Nantucket..." Spike starts, and Dawn can't take it anymore.
"Stop! Stop."
Spike turns his head and looks at her. "What?" he says, sounding surprised.
He can't be that stupid. Can he? "Enough with the limericks," Dawn says. "I think my brain melted." She leans forward between the front seats. "I want chocolate. Can we stop somewhere and get some?"
Xander exchanges a glance with Wesley, one of those Oh-God, female-hormones kind of looks, which makes Dawn want to smack him.
"There are some chocolate bars under your seat," Wesley says.
"Ooh, really?" Dawn starts to rummage underneath her, pulling out a cardboard box that's almost falling apart and looking through it.
"Um..." Xander says, and Dawn looks up. "Yeah, actually, there aren't."
"There were at least a dozen the other day," Wesley says.
"And yet now, not so much," Xander says, looking straight ahead at the road.
Dawn is surprised that Spike isn't saying anything through this, but he just looks into the box -- which, yeah, doesn't have any candy bars in it -- and then slides it back under the seat where it came from. The thing that doesn't surprise her is that Xander ate them. "So, can we stop somewhere?"
They're on a long road that's not a highway, or at least not what Dawn thinks of as a highway. Sometimes there are strip malls and things, but they haven't seen any signs of life at all. It's still a couple of hours until sunset, and she figures if they're going to stop, this would be as good a time as any.
In another minute, Xander slows down and puts on his turn signal.
"There's no one around for miles," Spike says, making a sound like he's choking on stupidity.
Xander glances back over his shoulder at them. "So?"
"So what are you putting the bloody indicator on for?"
Xander shrugs as he pulls the car into the parking lot of the big drug store. "I don't know. It seems like the thing to do."
Dawn thinks she gets it. "It's, like, proving it," she says. "That we can still do things right, even if everything's wrong."
There are two other cars in the parking lot, but they both look like they've been there a really long time. Xander pulls right up underneath the overhang -- so that the car's half on the sidewalk -- and shuts off the engine. "Driving Miss Dawnie," he says, tipping an imaginary hat, and Dawn giggles despite herself.
"Dork," she says affectionately.
The inside of the drug store smells gross -- not like rotted stuff, but like the air is all stale and dusty. Actually, everything's pretty dusty.
"Wait here," Wesley says, while they're still blinking and waiting for their eyes to adjust, and he walks along the front of each aisle, looking down. "It seems all right," he says, coming back and picking up one of the plastic baskets. "Just be careful. And quick." He and Xander disappear down one aisle, talking about first aid supplies.
Dawn and Spike grin at each other.
"Chocolate," she says.
Spike shakes his head and gestures at the wall of cigarettes behind the cash registers. The locks are mostly broken and some of the cases are spilling out, but there are plenty of boxes left.
She wants to stay close by, and anyway there's a whole display of candy bars in front of the checkout stand, so Dawn grabs a basket and starts to fill it with candy, hoping that the chocolate is still okay after sitting out all this time.
"Chocolate doesn't go bad, does it?" she asks.
Spike finishes jumping over the counter and surveys the cartons of cigarettes. "Wouldn't think so," he says. He turns around and looks behind the registers, then he takes a big plastic bag and starts to load it up with cartons. "Why?" he asks. "Does it smell off?"
Dawn lifts a wrapped bar to her nose and inhales. "No, it smells okay."
"Probably okay then." Spike shrugs, steps back. "No lighters," he says, sounding frustrated. He jumps back over the counter, leaving the bag sitting on it.
"Maybe they're all out?" Dawn asks doubtfully.
Spike shakes his head. "I don't think so. Must be in one of the aisles. Come on."
She doesn't want to stay at the front of the store all by herself -- maybe being cooped up at the school for so long made her paranoid, or something -- so she follows Spike, the basket full of candy bumping against her leg as she walks. It doesn't take long to find a display with lighters.
"Here, take these too," Spike says, tossing some lighters and a box of matchbooks on top of the chocolate. "Never know when they could come in handy."
Dawn can't help thinking about that other drug store, when she found out she was pregnant, and how crazy that had been.
"Anything else you need while we're here?" Spike asks, stepping closer to her and sliding an arm around her waist. She lifts her face up and he kisses her, with his lips all hard and demanding the way she likes it. When he kisses her like that, she believes that he really wants her. "I can smell you, you know," he says in a low voice, and his hand slides up and cups her breast, his thumb rubbing over her nipple. "All that hot blood between your legs."
She can feel her cheeks flush, but she always loves it when he touches her, even when she's all blushy and doesn't know what to say.
"You know what I'd do if we were alone?" Spike asks.
Dawn thinks she can guess, but before she can say anything, they hear Wesley's voice call to them. "Are you both all right?"
"Fine!" Spike shouts back, and she can hear the irritation in his voice. "Bloody Watchers," he mutters.
"He just wants to make sure we're okay," Dawn protests.
Spike lets go of her, stepping back and making this noise like he's really frustrated. "There'd be plenty of yelling if we weren't, don't you think?" He says it loud enough that Wesley and Xander can probably hear him.
She's torn between loyalty to Spike and wanting to defend Xander and Wesley, who so far have been pretty cool, all things considered. That moment of indecision on her part makes Spike snort and throw his arms down, and he turns and starts toward the front of the store.
"I'll be in the sodding car," he says, not looking back at her or anything.
Dawn sighs. What is it with guys and being so difficult? Is it some territorial thing? She's not even sure she wants to know.
She follows Wesley and Xander's voices two aisles down. They've got an almost full basket of bandages and cold packs and antibiotic cream and stuff, and Wesley is still looking at other boxes on the shelves. "Where's Spike?" he asks.
"He's waiting in the car," Dawn says.
Xander gives her a funny look, but doesn't say anything. Maybe guys have brain cells sometimes.
"Well, why don't you and Xander go and see if there are any torches -- er, flashlights -- and batteries?" Wesley sounds distracted, which for some reason makes him sound more British instead of less.
"I was gonna look for food," Xander says, like he's reminding Wesley.
Wesley looks up at him and smiles. "I forgot. All right, why don't you do that and I'll go with Dawn."
They don't touch each other as they go their separate ways, and Dawn wonders if they would have if she hadn't been there. She should probably say something at some point about that, so they know she doesn't care.
She and Wesley have to go almost to the back of the store to find the flashlight spot, and once they do most of the flashlights are long gone. Looted. There are two little ones, so she takes them -- they're better than nothing, right? -- and Wesley turns and starts putting the few packages of batteries that are left on top of the first aid stuff in his basket.
Dawn gets that weird thing all of a sudden, that thing where the little hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and she turns her head really, really slowly, telling herself that when she looks there won't be anything there.
In the darkness at the back corner of the store, she can see two glowing yellow-green eyes, kind of like a cat's eyes. Only these eyes are six feet off the ground, and then there's this clicking, growling kind of noise, and Dawn reaches for Wesley's arm without taking her gaze off it for a second, even though really all she wants to do is run. "Wesley," she says.
And thank god, Wesley doesn't say "Hm" or ignore her. He turns and looks in the same direction she's looking, and the demon steps forward where they can really see it, and it's huge and wrinkly and its face is kind of ridged, and it's gross.
"Oh dear," Wesley says.
The demon moves at them in a flash, so quick that Dawn can't even tell what's happening, and all she can do is scream Spike's name.
Spike doesn't go as far as the car -- he stops right outside the building, under the awning, and leans up against the wall. Rips open one of the cartons of smokes, opens a box, lights a fag, inhales.
Sometimes he thinks the only reason he likes to smoke is because it's so much like breathing.
He knows he's acting like a prat, storming off on Dawn when she didn't do anything to deserve it, but he can already tell that being cooped up in a car isn't going to be any better than being cooped up at the school was. Although -- and chances are good he won't admit this ever, or at the very least for a really long time -- Harris is a better verbal sparring partner than Peter ever would have been. And Wesley... well, Wesley's all right. It's grudging praise.
He's halfway through the fag when he hears Dawn start to scream, and it's only a second later, as he's slamming through the doors with enough force that one of them shatters, that he hears the gunshots. He's between the aisles when they stop, and then there are too many sounds to sort out -- Dawn still screaming, the sound of a demon growling -- no, snarling -- someone else shouting, crashing noises.
And then the unmistakable sound of a man's hoarse screaming as he rounds the corner, and the hot wash of blood fills Spike's senses. Wesley's down on the floor, writhing, but Spike can't spare him more than a glance because he needs to get the big demon away from Dawn, who doesn't seem capable of doing anything but standing there as it turns toward her.
He pulls her out of the way, quick and not at all gentle, and punches the thing in the gut. Takes all the skin off his knuckles doing it too, although at least the demon doubles over. It's got a big horn on its head, and Spike thinks vaguely that he's seen one of these before, even if right now he's too busy to sort out when or where. Too much going on at once, and he's aware of Dawn and the other two behind him, something going on there, breathing heavy, sounds... all of it just adds to the chaos, and he can feel the power surging through him like he's channeling everything in the room.
The demon's upright again and moving towards him. Spike doesn't want to step out of the way because the thing will end up going right for Dawn, so he turns, backing up, luring the demon in the other direction.
"That's it, you big ugly brute," he says with a wide sneer, figuring the creature can't understand what he's saying anyway. "Come on."
It moves a hell of a lot faster than he would have given it credit for, slamming into him and driving him back into the shelves behind him. They collapse down on top of both of them, spilling plastic bottles of pills everywhere, and Spike can't roll because the demon's bulk is weighing him down. He kicks it instead, and the demon grunts and gets up, stomps a foot toward into Spike's midsection that he manages to scramble far enough away from that it smashes into his pelvis instead. Just about feels the bones crack, but he can't pause.
Spike rolls to his feet, wishing for a weapon of some kind, any kind, He hits the demon in the gut again, since that worked out pretty well the first time other than the bleeding knuckles thing, and when it wheezes and clicks something at him, he turns and grabs onto the edge of one of the fallen shelves, using all his strength to wrench the piece of metal free.
The demon straightens up a bit, and Spike swings the shelf at its head, hitting it flat on, making it stagger. He can feel the reverberation all through his frame, jarring. "Like that, do you?" he asks, watching the demon try to recover. He takes advantage of the moment when the demon shakes its head to clear it to swing the shelf again, only this time he changes the angle so the shelf becomes a giant blade, slicing through the air and demon flesh, cutting a huge gash in the thing's chest.
Another set of clicks and snarls -- stupid thing doesn't even have a proper language -- and blood all over the floor, yellowish and oozing. The demon just about slips in its own blood, and again Spike takes advantage of the brief moment in which the creature is off guard to swing the shelf, only this time he's learned his lesson. Uses the sharpest edge and aims for the throat, and his blow just about cuts the demon's head off -- goes three quarters of the way through its neck. There's a burble, but no more of those clicks, as the demon wavers and falls to the floor, hitting hard.
It takes a good few seconds for Spike to realize that even though the fight's over, the building's far from quiet, and when he turns he sees why.
Wesley's on the floor, struggling with Xander. Spike needs another few seconds to sort out what his eyes are telling him -- that Xander's trying to hold Wesley, who's making some of the worst sounds Spike's ever heard come out of a human, because his left arm's gone above the elbow, and there's a growing pool of blood underneath them both. Harris is trying to staunch the flow, but it doesn't look like he's having much luck.
Dawn's standing to the side, both hands pressed over her mouth, but her look of horror's nothing compared to Xander's when he glances up at Spike, desperate, haunted.
There's no time for hesitation here. Xander and Wesley might be humans, but damn it, they're Spike's humans, just like Dawn is, and he'll be damned if they're going to die if he has anything to say about it.
He turns to Dawn, grabbing her by both shoulders and giving her a little shake to get her attention. "Bandages," he says.
"There," Harris says, surprising Spike with his ability to pay attention to anything other than the writhing man in his arms. He nods toward some supplies that are scattered across the floor not far off.
Dawn blinks, then she seems to snap out of it and flings herself onto her hands and knees, dumping out the rest of the contents of the basket that's lying on its side, looking.
Spike gets down on the floor next to Xander and grabs hold of Wesley, keeping him still. "Tighten that if you want it to do any good," he says, referring to the belt Xander's got wrapped around what's left of Wesley's arm. "I've got him."
"It's gonna be okay," Xander says, doing like Spike told him, hands slippery with blood fighting to get a good hold on the leather. "Wesley? It's okay."
Not much point in talking to him, Spike doesn't think -- all the struggle's gone out of Wesley now as shock settles in. His skin -- where it's not covered with blood, at any rate -- is cool and clammy, his breathing impossibly fast. The blood's still pouring out of him, and Spike knows if they don't get it stopped, and fast, it's all going to be over.
Dawn skitters over, pale but with her hands full of gauze packets.
"Won't be enough," Spike says, barely noting her frantic look.
"We have to do something," Harris says, grabbing a handful of the gauze and pressing it over the bleeding stump of Wesley's arm -- Spike wonders where the hell it went -- and biting his lip.
God, the smell of the blood is fucking glorious.
Wesley's body is tense in Spike's arms, like he's holding himself still by sheer force of a will Spike doesn't think's gonna last much longer. "Cauterize," he says tightly, and it's clear that the one word costs him a lot.
Xander's one eye meets Spike's, then flickers back to Wesley's face. "With what?"
Knowing from the way Wesley feels against him that no answer's going to come, Spike thinks about their options. Wesley might know the right sorts of chemicals to do the job, but the rest of them won't, and chances aren't good any of that stuff would be available here anyway. He listens hard -- should have done that before, should have checked out the whole place before assuming it was safe -- and then nods. "Go look," he says, to both Harris and Dawn, pushing Xander's hand out of the way and replacing it with his own. "Break into the back rooms and find something. Whatever might work. Go!"
Harris has enough sense to get up immediately, not wasting any time. "Come on, Dawn."
They disappear around the corner within seconds, leaving Spike alone with Wesley a dying meal in his arms.
There's nothing they can use in the first aid section, not that Dawn really thought there'd be. It's not like it's a hospital supply shop or something, and band-aids aren't going to do it. Xander is knocking everything onto the floor, using both hands to sweep stuff off the shelves like he thinks he might find something that way. It reminds Dawn of how Buffy used to search through the refrigerator shelves looking for something good to eat, like maybe there'd be something really good behind that bottle of olives -- well, except for the throwing everything onto the floor. Buffy didn't do that.
She realizes that her hands are shaking, but she's trying not to think about what's happening. She's never heard anybody scream like Wesley was screaming for those first few seconds, when she still didn't even know what was wrong -- the sound of it made her feel more sick than looking at him did, what with all the blood and the...
Okay, she really can't think about this.
Xander growls and slams his fist into a shelf. "Fuck!"
"It'll be okay," Dawn tells him quickly, scared because if Xander is freaking out, she doesn't know how they're going to find anything to help. "We'll find something."
Brushing off her tentative hand on his arm, Xander heads toward the back of the store, breaking into a stumbling run, and Dawn follows him.
She really hopes there aren't any more monsters back there.
"My... fault," Wesley says. His voice's barely above a whisper, his breathing still quick and shallow, like he's really working at it.
"Shh," Spike says, tightening his grip on the end of Wesley's arm. Wesley doesn't seem to feel it -- Spike thinks maybe there's too much nerve damage for that. The pain's gotta be everywhere, so this one spot's no worse or better than any other. "Wasn't your fault."
Wesley rolls his head where it's resting against Spike's chest, like he's saying no, but at least he's got the sense to save the rest of his breath for what really matters.
He's still bleeding, and the smell of it is dragging Spike into a place he doesn't want to go, not here, not now. "You're gonna be okay."
Wesley twitches in his arms, and it takes Spike a few seconds to realize he's laughing. "You're..." Wesley coughs, shudders, "a terrible liar."
"I've seen people get through worse than this," Spike says, and that part's the truth.
"If I won't..." Sounds like Wesley is choosing his words carefully, trying to conserve energy. "You don't turn me. Don't even think about it."
Spike wouldn't have. "Not a chance, mate. It wouldn't be what anyone would want. Not you, not Harris... and if you think I'd do anything to put Dawn in danger, you don't know me at all."
Wesley takes another shuddering breath, and makes a terrible soft sound on the exhale. Under almost any other circumstances, from anyone else, Spike would have liked to hear it. "Good," he whispers.
Besides, Spike thinks, if Wesley dies, there's no way Spike's giving even a drop of whatever blood's left in him at that point back.
It takes Xander like six tries to get into the locked room at the back of the store by slamming his shoulder into it. Dawn winces as the edge of the door finally gives with a splintering sound, and then they're in.
"Check over there," Xander says, pointing off to the right.
Dawn goes, her eyes scanning everything they can focus on. It's pretty dark, and they didn't think to take any flashlights with them, but once she gets close enough to stuff, she can see. It's, like, the store room for the pharmacy or something. There's tons of smallish cardboard boxes, but when she pulls them down to look through them they just contain bottles of pills and stuff. Medicine. Which might come in handy later, sure, but right now they aren't much help.
She drops the box she's holding onto the floor and turns, keeps looking. Nothing. More and more boxes, and more boxes, and some rolls of paper towels, and... well okay, maybe those might be better than nothing. Dawn tucks two rolls under her arm.
"There's nothing here!" she calls to Xander -- she doesn't know where he is, exactly, but she can hear him crashing around nearby. Almost as soon as she says it she feels like kicking herself -- way to be positive and hopeful -- but then Xander appears in the doorway with a funny yellow canister thing in his hands.
"Yeah there is," he says. He flicks something on the thing and clicks it, and it shoots out this little blue flame.
Wesley's breathing too fast, too labored. Spike doesn't like the sound of it.
He does like hearing the running footsteps as Dawn and Xander come back though. She's got a couple of rolls of paper towels and Harris has a propane torch. "We found these," Dawn says.
"Good," Spike says, looking at Xander because he's the one who's gonna have to do it. "Used one of those before?"
"Yeah," Xander says, his hands tightening on the propane canister.
"Well, stop wasting time and get down here then."
But Harris just stands there, holding onto the torch and, Spike thinks, sweating. Wesley is still tense against him -- not unconscious yet, although Spike's sure he will be soon, one way or the other. Doesn't think Wesley knows what's going on, though -- or if he does, he's got the sense to stay quiet about it, let it play out on its own.
"Xander," Spike says, giving his voice a hard edge, hoping to get through to the part of Harris that can handle anything. "Get the fuck down here and do this."
Xander swallows. "I can't."
"You bloody well can," Spike tells him. "And you're going to. Someone's got to hold him steady, and there's no way in hell you'd be able to do it."
"I can't."
Disgusted, Spike starts to say fine, we'll just let him bleed to death then, guilt the boy into action, but Dawn speaks up before he can open his mouth.
"I'll do it," she says.
Spike and Xander both turn their heads to look at her.
Dawn pushes her hair back behind her ears. Her lips are set tight, and her hands are clenched into fists, but the way she says it doesn't leave any room for argument. She relaxes one hand and holds it out toward Xander, gesturing at him to hurry up and pass the torch over already. "I can do it."
What's going on inside Dawn's head is pretty much 'Oh god, oh god, oh god.'
Not in an actual god kind of way -- she gave up on God as a concept when Glory killed Buffy. Okay, maybe Glory wasn't the one to do the actual killing, but it was Glory's fault. That's what Dawn tells herself when she doesn't want to believe that it's her own, anyway, which is most of the time. There might be, like, gods, but there isn't one up there in the clouds watching over them. She's sure of that.
Anyway, it's more like a personal mantra than a religious thing, and that's just because she can't think of what else to repeat to herself when things start to go wrong. She'll think of something better some other time, when she's not kneeling down on a hard tile floor that's slippery with blood, when she's not shaking with fear and disbelief, when Xander isn't pacing behind her with his hand over his mouth, muttering something that's she's pretty sure is a religious thing and, she thinks, crying.
Dawn looks at the torch thing, which doesn't seem too hard to use, then she blinks and thinks about it for a second. "Wait. Aren't we supposed to use, you know, metal? Or something?" There's this image in her head of, like, hot pokers. Brands.
Spike blinks like he hadn't even thought of that. It makes her want to smack him. A hundred and whatever years, and she's the one who has to think of everything? "Harris," Spike says. "You see anything that might work while you were back there?"
"No. I was a little bit busy looking for something to set my boyfriend on fire with," Xander says, stopping the pacing and looking at them wide-eyed.
There's a tiny twinge in Dawn's heart at the word 'boyfriend' -- that's so cute -- but it's obvious that Xander's totally freaking out, so she's more focused on that. "Okay, think. Something metal, with a flat edge..."
Wesley stirs in Spike's grip with a low moan like he can't help it. "Gun," he says, without opening his eyes.
Oh god. She's been hoping maybe he was unconscious -- she really, really doesn't want to do this to him when he's awake. Please, please let him pass out in the next five minutes. Please.
She and Xander look around until they find the gun Wesley used before -- it's still a little bit warm actually, and Dawn knows that it's empty because she heard the last two 'clicks' right before the demon slammed into Wesley and... right. She's so not thinking about it could have been her instead.
But the whole gun is metal, and there's no way she's going to be able to hold it while it gets hot enough to... do the thing it's going to need to do. "I need an oven mitt," she says out loud, then realizes that chances are good there are some in whatever kitchen aisle there is.
"What?" Xander says.
"An oven mitt. Go find one." Dawn kneels back down on the floor next to Spike and Wesley as Xander goes off.
Spike's hands are both busy, but when he looks at her she can tell that he wishes he could hug her or pat her shoulder or something else comforting. And it's actually just as well that he can't, because if anyone's nice to her now, she's totally going to lose it. She has to concentrate until this is done. She has to.
"You can do this," Spike says.
"I know."
"You're my girl. You can do anything you set your mind to."
"I know," Dawn says, reading the instructions that are on the sticker on the side of the torch again. It's easy, like a really big lighter -- flick the little safety valve off, then click the torch on. Piece of cake.
The gun, when she looks at it carefully, isn't as straightforward. If the point of this is to stop the bleeding, then she needs something flat to hold against the wound, and no part of the gun is big enough or flat enough. That means it's going to take longer, because she's going to have to do it more than once, which is totally unfair. Isn't once going to be hard enough?
Xander comes back with an armful of oven mitts and two long barbecue utensils with wooden handles. They're like long spatulas or something. "What about these?" he says, dropping everything onto the floor next to her. "I thought..."
"I don't know," Dawn says, picking one up and looking at it. She glances at Spike.
"I think the gun's the way to go," Spike says. "Better leverage, and it's heavier. It'll hold the heat longer."
She's thinking too fast -- her head is spinning, and she can feel blood soaking into the dead girl's khakis she's wearing, making her knees damp. The smell of it is sickening, but she knows it's going to be much worse in a few minutes.
Deciding to go with the gun, Dawn sets it down on the tile floor. "Will this stuff burn?" she asks, rapping her knuckles against the cool tile.
"Eventually," Xander says. "But it should be okay."
"Okay." She takes a deep breath, grabs one of the oven mitts and rests it on her thigh, and lights the torch. It seems to work pretty fast -- the metal barrel of the gun goes from shiny gray to red hot in less than a minute.
"Get down here and hold his legs," she hears Spike say to Xander, and Xander does, kneeling down at Wesley's feet.
Dawn doesn't think there's any point to warning Wesley, so she just does it -- puts down the torch, slides her hand into the oven mitt, and picks up the gun. Spike is watching her, and he must be able to see what she needs because he moves his hand out of the way at just the right time.
She presses the metal to the middle of the stump, not letting her eyes dart away when they want to because she needs to make sure she does this right. She tries not to smell the burning blood and flesh, not to see the wisps of smoke as the blood bubbles away. Tries not to notice how Spike and Xander have to struggle to hold Wesley as he arches his body in those first few seconds.
Tries not to hear his scream.
But they're lucky actually. (She reminds herself of this later, later that night when she can't sleep for remembering the stuff she tries so hard not to see.) After those first few seconds, Wesley goes limp, passes out.
Xander is crying almost silently, doubled up over Wesley's legs, his face mostly hidden, by the time it's done. Dawn thinks she did as good a job as she could, considering she had to stop once in the middle to heat the gun up again, and, you know, that she had no idea what she was doing. But the bleeding's stopped, other than a slow seeping through the burned flesh, and that's what's important.
Now, if Wesley just doesn't die from blood loss, or infection, or demon goo in the wound, or any of a million other things Dawn probably doesn't know about...
"Good girl," Spike says approvingly as she slides the torch and gun away across the floor, watching as they both draw a little trail of blood in their wake. He shifts Wesley's limp body in his arms, looks at the stump, and nods. "Yeah, that oughta do it."
"Yeah." Dawn wipes her mouth on her sleeve. There's a sick taste in the back of her throat, and she feels shaky and gross. "What do we do now? Bandage it up?"
"Probably," Spike agrees. "But the real question is, do we stay here or move on and look for somewhere better to hole up for a bit?"
Dawn isn't sure. "Well, there's medicine here. There's probably antibiotics and burn cream and all kinds of other first aid stuff. Stuff we might need. Maybe we should stay until..." She bites her lip, then she continues, "until Wesley's better."
"Harris? What do you think?" Spike asks. Dawn is surprised that he's asking Xander, but not in a bad way.
Xander rubs his knuckles under his eye quickly, and when he looks up he has blood smeared on his cheek. Actually, now that Dawn really looks at him, he's got blood pretty much everywhere -- on his hands, on his clothes. They all do. "I don't know," he says. His voice is hoarse, like he's the one who's been screaming. "Stay, I guess. Until we can look through the pills and stuff anyway."
"We'll need blankets," Dawn says. She thinks there's at least one in the car. "There's water and food here." She looks at Wesley doubtfully, feeling the hard tile underneath her hands.
She's not sure whether to be insanely happy or completely freaked out when it seems like Spike reads her mind. "Need to get some kind of proper bed. A mattress. Something," he says.
"I think there was a department store just up ahead when we stopped here," Dawn says. "They might have something." Which brings up the fun question of who gets to go and who gets to stay behind.
Xander's hand is stroking over Wesley's leg, kind of like he's not even aware he's doing it. "I'll go," he says, getting up, not really looking at Dawn or Spike. "You two stay here. Make sure he's okay." He's staring at Wesley's face.
"You're not going alone," Dawn says. "No way. There's no way to know what might be in there. One person going alone... that doesn't make any sense." She thinks quickly, trying to figure out what does make sense. "Spike could go with you."
"Have you lost your bloody mind?" Spike looks like he wants to drop Wesley onto the floor and stand up, but luckily he doesn't do that. "I'm not leaving you here to get hurt."
Dawn rubs her bloodied hands on the thighs of her khakis -- they're history anyway, no point in trying to minimize the damage -- and frowns determinedly. "No. You're not. You're leaving me here where I'll be fine." She wrinkles up her nose. "And you're leaving me here with some more of Wesley's guns. If anything happens -- which nothing will -- I'll have protection. Right?"
"I don't like it," Spike says. "I promised Buh -- " He cuts himself off, turning his head away with his jaw clenched, then he finishes, with a pause between each word, "I promised I'd keep you safe."
Oh my god. Have they, or have they not had this conversation like three times already? "You know you can't."
"Okay, can we save the meaningful realizations for some other time?" Xander breaks in, throwing his hands up into the air and sounding more like himself again. "Some other time when, oh, I don't know, we aren't in a hurry to get back here before the sun sets and all the monsters come out to play?"
Dawn sighs -- Xander's right, and at this point she'd rather just agree than keep arguing about it. "Then Spike and I can go. That way you can stay here with Wesley."
Spike nods, and after a minute Xander does too, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. Okay. I'll stay here." He looks a lot less thrilled at the idea than Dawn thinks he should.
He and Spike switch places, careful not to jostle Wesley as they lower him down onto the floor with Xander's sweater tucked under his head and shoulder. Dawn helps Xander figure out which bandages to use -- they don't want the gauze to get all stuck to the burns, but she's not sure how to prevent that from happening. Maybe there's a first aid book in the store somewhere.
"Okay," Xander says, seeming better now that he has something to do. "You two get out of here before it gets any later." He glances up, meeting Dawn's worried gaze. "And be careful."
Dawn and Spike get the car keys and find one of Wesley's other guns in the car to leave with Xander. Dawn has to drive because of the whole sun thing, even if it's going to set pretty soon, and she has a tight, miserable feeling in her stomach as they drive away from the drug store, leaving Xander and Wesley back there.
She's still not a great driver, but they don't have far to go -- it's less than a mile to Walmart. Just seeing the big blue sign and the cheerful yellow smiley faces makes her feel a little bit better.
"You stay right with me," Spike cautions as they go in through the doors. Right away there's the smell of rotting bodies, but it's not too bad -- they've smelled way worse.
"I will," Dawn promises. "All I want to do is find what we need and get out of here."
There are a lot of windows at the front of the store, but otherwise it's a big warehouse -- dark, the air stale. The camping section is way at the back, and Spike grabs an abandoned shopping cart as they pass it, taking it with them.
"Mom had one of these when me and Buffy were little," Dawn says, gesturing at the selection of air mattresses. "Until this one time when Buffy thought it would be cool to play Supergirl, and we had to do this thing where we jumped off the coffee table onto the mattress, and we popped it. Mom was so pissed off." She trails off as she remembers that this isn't even a real memory.
"Well toss one of them in here," Spike says, gesturing at the cart. "For that matter, get three or four. Might as well all be comfortable." He grabs some other boxes and throws them into the cart too, and Dawn gets into the spirit of things, pretending like everything is normal and they just hit the lottery or something. They get four sleeping bags and a couple of battery operated lanterns, and Spike sweeps most of the shelf of dehydrated food packets in on top.
"It feels weird not to have to pay," Dawn admits as they walk out past the cash registers, rolling the cart around a body that seems to have stopped being stinky. At least, it doesn't smell any worse than the rest of the store.
"Feels good," Spike says. The sun is setting, but he still has to dart quickly into the car to avoid the whole flamey thing. Once he's in there, he takes the boxes and other stuff as Dawn hands them to him, throwing them into the back seat. She passes over the last air mattress, gives the cart a shove away from the car, and reaches out to close the door for Spike, but he reaches out and grabs her wrist instead.
With a squeal, Dawn is jerked into the car and into Spike's lap. She can feel that he's hard inside his jeans, poking against the back of her thigh, and she squirms as a hot rush goes through her, making her legs feel weak and heavy.
Spike nuzzles her hair. "You all right?"
And in that moment this is exactly where she wants to be, in a place where she can forget everything else, even if it's just for a second. "Yeah. I'm okay."
"You were amazing back there," Spike says. "Bloody brilliant."
Literally bloody, Dawn thinks. She's glad there are some clean clothes in the car, that she thought to take them from that picture perfect, pale peach bedroom. Maybe when they get back to the drug store she can clean up a little bit, get some of the blood off. "We should get back," she says, because she's still not ready to talk about this, or even think about it.
"Yeah," Spike says. "Just want to do one thing first." He kisses her, running both hands over her body. One goes to the back of her neck, holding her there, and the other one down to her waist. It makes her shiver, and she opens her mouth to his, letting his tongue inside. "My girl," he says against her lips, his fingers tightening in her hair.
That just makes Dawn squirm some more, mostly because she knows he'll gasp and kiss her harder, which he does.
Guys can be so predictable. She wonders if they're like that with each other too, when it's two guys, and that thought makes her pull away because she remembers Xander and Wesley. "We should go," she says, but she squirms against Spike and kisses him one more time, clinging to him. Wishing that they could stay here and pretend none of this is happening.
"Shh," Spike says, rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone.
"What if... what if Wesley..." She can't finish.
"He'll be fine," Spike says. Lies, more like. Any of them could die any time, and something big, like getting your arm...
Dawn buries her face in Spike's neck and breathes in, feeling his arms tighten around her. Breathes some more, deep breaths, because that's supposed to make you feel better.
And just because she can.
They go back to the drug store, Dawn with a nervous fluttering in her stomach until they park the car and go in through the broken door. "It's us," she calls, not too loudly, but, she thinks, loudly enough that Xander will be able to hear her.
"Hey," Xander says, as she and Spike walk down the aisle toward him and Wesley, who looks like he hasn't moved since they left.
Xander, on the other hand, looks terrible -- blood-stained and exhausted -- but relieved to see them, and Dawn can't help it. She gets down on her knees next to him and puts her arms around him, hugging him fiercely, wanting to do something that will make him feel better.
She feels Xander's arms tighten around her briefly, then he lets go again. "Don't," he says. "Just... I can't do this right now, okay?"
Dawn swallows. "Okay. Right." She looks at Wesley's arm, now carefully bandaged with clean white gauze, only the tiniest bit of icky stuff oozing through. "It looks good," she says, noting that the edge of Wesley's shirt is ragged where it got ripped off. She wonders how much it will hurt him to have to change it. "He hasn't...?"
"No," Xander says, glancing at her and then up at Spike, some kind of guy thing that Dawn doesn't get and probably never will passing between them. "No, he's just been... like this."
"He'll be okay," Dawn says, with more hope than she feels. "Spike says..."
"I've seen folks get through worse," Spike says helpfully, still standing there with an armload of air mattress boxes.
"Great," Xander says. "I'm glad you were basing that on your many years as a vicious killer, and not on some newfound ability to see into the future." His voice is harsh, bitter, his emphasis on the word 'see' something that Dawn can't fail to notice, even though she'd really, really like to.
Trying to keep the peace, Dawn says, "We found mattresses. And sleeping bags, and some food and stuff."
Spike sets most of what he's holding onto the floor and rips open one box, flapping the mattress, then looking at the tile suspiciously. "Maybe we should move this over an aisle," he says, nodding at the drying blood on the floor.
They end up inflating all four of the mattresses and dragging everything else inside too, since they're probably going to be there for a few days at least. Dawn takes the sleeping bags out of their nylon cases and spreads one out on the mattress that's going to be Wesley's, trying to make it as comfortable as possible. She tries not to watch or listen when Spike and Xander pick him up between them and lower him onto the bed, but luckily Wesley stays unconscious.
Even though she should totally know better, she can't help but go over and kneel down next to him, watching his pale face. It seems... kind of unbelievable that his glasses are still on but that his arm is gone. She looks down at her own hand, then up at Wesley's face again. He's breathing okay -- kind of fast and shallow, but not in a way that's really scary.
She has no idea if he's going to live or die.
Xander is standing on the other side of the mattress, looking down at Wesley too. His shoulders are slumped and his face is creased with strain.
"Why don't you go see if there's running water in the bathrooms?" Dawn suggests, thinking that if there is, Xander can at least clean some of the blood off his hands and face, and maybe that will make him feel a little bit better.
"What?" Xander looks up at her, but it's like he has to force himself to drag his gaze away from Wesley.
"Bathroom?" Dawn says gently. "It's okay. I'll stay right here with him."
After a few seconds, Xander says, "Yeah, okay. I'll be right back." He turns and starts for the back of the store, and Dawn turns her head and looks at Spike.
"Could you make sure he's okay?" she asks.
"You want me to follow him to the loo?" Spike asks, incredulous. "He's been going on his own for twenty years, pet. Don't think he needs me to hold his cock for him."
Dawn just barely manages not to roll her eyes. "I'd feel better if I knew the bathrooms were safe," she says. "Plus, did you see him? He'll be lucky if he doesn't get lost on the way there." She smiles a little bit at Spike. "Please? For me?"
That works like she knew it would. Spike sighs and nods. "Right. Be back in a few. And if you need anything, just give a shout -- I'll come running."
Dawn already knows that.
He always does.
Bathroom's dark -- there's a high window, but they're on the wrong side of the building, plus it's after sunset now anyway. Spike can see just fine without extra light, but he's brought one of the new lanterns with him, and Harris squints as the pale glow fills the room.
"You all right?" Spike asks.
Xander's hands are under a trickle of running water coming from the faucet, and Spike can smell the sharp medicinal scent of antibacterial soap, but he doesn't answer. Just keeps washing his hands, scrubbing them like he's trying to get rid of every trace of blood.
"Lady MacBeth a personal role model?" Spike asks, setting the lantern down on the edge of the nearest sink and leaning against the wall.
"What?" Xander says, and then, right away, "Shut up. If that's the most helpful thing you have to say..."
"Asked if you were all right, didn't I?" Spike says, affronted.
"Probably because Dawn asked you to." Harris sounds like he's more making an attempt at their normal disagreeable interaction than like he really means it.
"Well yeah." Now that he's admitted it, he and Xander exchange a glance that includes tiny smiles, acknowledgment that they'd both be wrapped around her little finger if she wanted it.
Xander finishes washing his hands and looks around, finds a paper towel dispenser on the wall. With his back still to Spike, he says, "He's gonna die, isn't he."
Spike can hear the hopelessness. Recognizes it as the same he was feeling when he and Dawn had turned up on Peter's doorstep, with her blood all dripping down him and the terrible certainty in his heart that she was as good as gone. "No," he says, because no one should have to feel like that. Not anyone halfway decent, at any rate. "We won't let him."
Harris crumples up the brown paper and lets it drop to the floor before he turns back around. "He saved my life," he says.
"Yeah."
"If he dies..."
"You listening? We won't let him die." Spike looks at Xander fiercely and lies as easily as breathing comes to humans, or to ones that aren't at death's door anyway. "He'll be okay. Lost a lot of blood, but not enough to kill him."
The look Xander gives him is grateful, and Spike's not sure how he feels about that.
Dawn sits next to Wesley and listens to him breathe. He's pale -- okay, actually he's really, really pale -- and there are some tiny little flecks of blood on his face. She's not sure if there was more, before, and Xander cleaned it off, or if somehow this was all that got on him. Which would be pretty weird, considering.
He probably saved her life, she knows that. If he hadn't been there, with the gun and the distracting, that demon would have come after her instead. She doesn't like the thought that he had to pay a price like this -- his arm -- for it, but she's not stupid enough not to be thankful.
Part of her wishes he would wake up, so she could tell him that. Well, maybe not in exactly those words. But the rest of her's glad that he's not awake, because right now he's probably not thinking about it.
She hears the creak of a door, and footsteps, the low murmur of Spike and Xander's voices as they come back from the bathroom.
Xander looks better -- he cleaned off most of the blood, and he seems a little bit less tense than he had when he left. He gives Dawn a quick smile before sitting down next to her. "Thanks," he says, and she knows he means for staying with Wesley.
"It's okay. He didn't, you know, move or anything." It's not like she knows if that's a good sign or a bad sign, actually.
"You should try to get some sleep," Spike says, looking at Xander, and Dawn feels better that Spike's making an effort to be nice.
Xander shakes his head. "I don't think I could sleep."
"You'd be surprised," Spike says mildly, then he looks at Dawn and jerks his head toward the back of the store. He's still holding the lantern he took with him. "You need to use the little girls' room?"
Oh yeah, the whole tampon thing. "Uh-huh," she says, getting up and then realizing this would be a good time to change clothes and stuff too. "Um, hang on a minute."
She quickly gets a few things together, and they walk back toward the bathrooms. The store is quiet, obviously, but it feels... different now, too. Quiet in a creepy way, now that stuff's happened here.
Spike goes into the women's bathroom first, pushing the door open and checking before he lets her go. He follows her inside, too. Dawn is weirded out that she's not more weirded out by that, but it seems normal, after all the time they've been together. Having Wesley and Xander around is good, but she still feels like she needs Spike there with her, like she's safer that way, even though the whole safety thing is something she definitely won't bring up because they always end up arguing about it.
She pees and changes her tampon -- with the stall door closed, thank you very much, since doing that in front of Spike would just be icky -- kicks her jeans off and into the back corner of the stall, and then comes back out into the main part of the bathroom.
"Ew," Dawn says, pulling her bloodstained shirt off and stuffing it into the trash barrel. "Too bad they don't have a shower."
Spike puts the lantern down and pulls her close, kissing her and then trailing his mouth down along the side of her throat, licking her skin, giving her goosebumps. "Could clean you off, love," Spike murmurs, and Dawn shivers.
"That's..." She was going to say something else, but Spike's hand is on her ass, pulling her in against him, and then his other hand is pulling her bra strap down over her shoulder, and he's licking her collarbone, and she forgets whatever she was going to say and just moans softly.
She could turn her head and look in the row of mirrors behind the sinks, but she doesn't want to, because she knows the only reflection will be hers. So instead, Dawn shuts her eyes when Spike frees her breast and closes his mouth around it, sucking hard. It makes her knees weak, and she clings to him, biting her lip.
Spike moves around behind her, pulling off her bra and taking both bare breasts into his hands, kneading them while he kisses her neck. "So proud of you, Bit. Such a strong girl. My girl."
Dawn can't even protest any of it, because what he's doing feels too good and she wants more. She reaches back and gets her hand in between them so she can kind of awkwardly cup Spike's erection, and he growls and pinches her nipples harder, grinding against her hand. "Spike," she gasps.
"Mm." He sucks on the side of her neck, and she thinks she's going to have a really nice big hickey there probably, but she doesn't really care. Spike slides his left hand down over her stomach and underneath the elastic of her panties, one fingertip sliding into the curls between her legs.
"Spike... I can't." Dawn whispers it, even though she knows there's no way Xander can overhear them as long as they're not too loud. "I'm still... you know."
"I know," Spike says, teasing her nipple with light touches. "Don't care."
She blushes harder, if that's even possible. "I do. It's gross."
"No. It's not." His fingers slides down and slicks over her clit, making her whole body twitch and drawing a whimper from her. That reaction seems to decide him, and in moments Spike has her totally naked and pushed up against the bathroom wall, and he's on his knees in front of her, his tongue licking up her thigh. Dawn makes a wordless sound of protest, but Spike just soothes her with his hands on the backs of her thighs. "Shh. Just want to make you feel good."
And he pushes his tongue in, sliding it wetly over her, and Dawn bites down on her lip and leans her head back, not caring about anything but Spike and the fact that he loves her. He has to, right? To want to do this, and to take care of her the way he does.
It feels like he licks her for a long time, until she's shaking and whimpering and coming, coming so hard that she knows she'd have fallen down if Spike hadn't been holding her. He gets up, his tongue licking his lips clean, and he looks... kind of happy. And hungry.
He rubs against her, and Dawn can feel him hard against her thigh even though he's still dressed. "You taste incredible, pet," he murmurs against her throat, his hands braced against the wall to either side of her. "My sweet girl."
Dawn loves it when he talks like that. She moans softly and puts her arms around him, grabbing onto his ass and pulling him closer, encouraging him to thrust against her.
"God, I want you," Spike says, still in that low voice. "You make me so hard, love. Never been like this with anyone else."
She moves her hand around to the front of his jeans and fumbles with the fastenings, wanting to touch him. When his cock pushes into her hand, making her fingers slippery, Dawn shivers. "I could... um..."
"What, pet? Anything you like. Anything." Spike thrusts his hips forward slowly with a soft groan, and that's what decides her -- Dawn drops down onto her knees on the tile floor and nuzzles hesitantly at his cock with her cheek, feeling how soft the skin is and thinking about what she's heard about sucking guys off, which has mostly been vague and has always actually sounded kind of gross.
But it doesn't seem that way with Spike, not even when she licks the salty bitter pre-come from the head of his cock, the taste of it bursting over her tongue and making her mouth flood with saliva. He trembles, and Dawn thinks it's because he's trying not to scare her or push her into doing more than she wants to.
"Yeah, love," Spike whispers, reaching down to caress her hair.
Dawn licks him again, then takes his cock into her mouth and tries to suck on it, which doesn't work out all that well. She doesn't know what to do with her tongue and teeth -- where the heck are they supposed to go? -- but at least she finally gets those jokes about old women taking out their dentures to do this, because it would be so much easier if she didn't have to worry about nicking him.
But then Spike stiffens, straightening up, his muscles going all tense, and he growls a little bit, or maybe snarls. Dawn's not sure what the difference is. When she looks up, she realizes that it doesn't matter, because Spike is in vamp face and he's staring at her with a hungry, feral gleam in his eyes.
She remembers suddenly how long it's been since Spike really fed.
Oh shit, Dawn thinks. I'm in so much trouble.
Spike has known he's been courting disaster since the moment he dropped to his knees and buried his face between Dawn's sweet thighs, drinking her in. Even the small taste was enough to push him to the brink of control, and when she'd shuddered and come, making enticing whimpering noises as she did, he'd lost it. Stopped caring about anything but her body and what he wanted to do to it, which was a hell of a lot more than just fuck it.
When she gets down and sucks on his cock, that's it. Game face comes on and he growls, and there's just barely enough of himself left to wrench control back from the demon and try to warn her. "Get out of here," he tells her. "Before I... just get out."
"Spike, I -- " Dawn looks terrified, her eyes wide, and that just makes him want her more.
"Get out," Spike roars, slamming his head back into the wall behind him in an attempt to distract himself or, if he's lucky, knock himself senseless. "Just get out of here until I can..."
Finally, she moves. Scrambles to her feet, but it's too late -- he's lost again, just from the scent of her blood in the air and the rapid stuttering pulse of it just under the thin skin of her throat. Reveling in it, Spike grabs onto her and jerks her toward him, lowering his mouth to the sweet juncture of neck and shoulder as Dawn shrieks at the top of her lungs, struggling in his arms.
Makes it all the better when he bites through and begins to feed.
She moans in pain, and that makes it better too. Then, to his surprise, she stops fighting. He can feel her breath hitch, then she says, "It's okay, Spike. I -- I want you to." And in the moment Spike relaxes, lets down his guard and sinks his fangs a fraction of an inch deeper, his entire body singing as the blood rushes through him, Dawn lifts her knee and slams him in the balls with astonishing force.
Releasing her is something he can't help but do, his body curling up, trying to protect itself. He's only dimly aware of Dawn scrabbling away from him -- only dimly grateful, the rest is hidden beneath the hunger -- as he waits the needed few seconds for the agony to subside. She won't be able to get far, after all. He's so much faster.
Then the bathroom door bangs open, and Harris is standing there, his face glowing in the pale light from the lantern that's still on the side of the sink. "What the fuck is going on?" he asks, just as Dawn runs over to him, struggling to pull a little t-shirt on over her head to hide herself.
"He was... we were, and then..." She can't form a sentence. Xander takes another step into the room, holding the door open with his arm high so that Dawn can duck under it and behind him.
"I told you you couldn't trust him," Harris says. He's acting calm, but Spike can hear the fine quiver in his voice that gives him away.
That's when Spike sees that Harris' got a stake in his other hand. "Gonna dust me?" he asks, forcing himself upright despite the deep ache in his groin, tucking his cock back into his jeans as casually as he can, trying not to wince.
"If I have to," Xander says. He doesn't turn his head to look at Dawn. "Are you okay?"
"I think so." Dawn's voice is small, and a twinge of something in Spike's gut makes him wince. "It's not his fault," she says.
Spike snorts, trying to maintain some sort of distance from the whole situation. "Don't fool yourself, Bit. Who else's would it be? This is what I am. Told you so plenty of times, haven't I?" He doesn't want to hurt her -- that's the truth. Control just got away from him for a minute there. He's been running too close to the edge for too long.
"It was an accident," Dawn insists. "He tried to warn me."
"Not quick enough though, was I." Spike leans back against the wall, physiological reaction to the hunger making him tremble. "Just get her out of here for a while, Harris. Give me a few minutes alone."
"So you can do what? Come back out and decide which one of us looks like the easiest meal? No, thanks." Xander shakes his head, and Spike thinks they both know who the easiest target would be if that were the case. "No. We have to figure out the right way to handle this."
Surprised, Spike says, "Get the hell away from me, that's how."
"No," Dawn says. He can hear the gratitude in her voice. "We're a team, right?"
Spike wants to say yes, but he's shaking with the effort of holding back as it is. "Not if it means you being in danger," he says stubbornly.
"Then we don't let her be," Harris says, still doing a good job of acting calm.
"What's your solution, then?" Spike asks, his teeth itching with the need for blood. "Gonna feed me yourself?" He knows that'll never happen.
"If I have to." Xander says.
The trembling has spread to Spike's hands like a palsy, and he has to clench them into fists to make it stop. "Harris," he says slowly. "We're not friends. You don't want to do this. Just get her out of here and give me some time. I'll... I can control this."
"He can't," Dawn says stubbornly. "If he could, he wouldn't have -- "
"Get her out," Spike says, full of rage that they're ignoring him, and slams his head back into the wall again. This time he breaks something -- the wall, not his head -- and a small shower of plaster chips falls down into his hair and over his shoulders.
Xander says, "No." He steps sideways into the room, leaving Dawn to hold the door open on her own, and gives her the stake. "Here. Take this too." He reaches inside his shirt and pulls out a chunky gold cross on a long chain, long enough to take off over his head without unfastening it, which is what he does, only half-turning away from Spike as he puts the necklace on Dawn. Then, cautiously, he moves toward Spike.
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into," Spike tells him, staying where he is only through supreme effort.
"Yeah, I do." Harris holds his hands out to the side a bit, which just proves to Spike that he really doesn't know what he's doing. A gesture of surrender isn't the way to deal with this. "Dawn has a stake and my cross. If you fuck up, she'll stop you. Right, Dawn?"
Spike can hear her swallow from across the room. "R-right." Then, more strongly, "Right. Isn't there some kind of police saying like this? Um, 'take it nice and slow and no one gets hurt?' Oh. No, I think that's a bank robber thing." Her voice rises, high and quavery, and in that moment any chance Spike thought there was of this not ending badly is shattered.
Unfortunately, so's his resolve.
"All right," Spike says.
Harris starts to take off his shirt, and as his thin but muscular torso comes into view, Spike thinks that he should tell him to keep his shirt on, that it'd be safer to do this from his wrist. But he doesn't. Just waits for Xander to come closer, eyeing the juncture of throat and shoulder with hunger, reaching a hand out for Harris' waist as he gets within touching distance.
"Oh, no," Xander says, stopping despite Spike's growl of frustration. "We have to do this the right way. Turn around like this." He indicates that Spike should stand sideways rather than facing him, then moves around so that his back is to Spike, both of them facing the mirrors.
Good boy, Spike thinks. Submit.
"This way Dawn can stop you if she has to," Harris says. "And she can see my face, so she'll know. Okay?"
Spike hears Dawn say, "Okay," but he can't wait a second more, he's already wrapping an arm around Harris' waist from behind and sinking his fangs through the salty flesh at the nape of Xander's neck, sweet hot blood bursting into his mouth.
Xander chokes back a pained sound, then says, "It's okay. It's okay." Spike's not sure if he's saying it to Dawn or himself, but either way, his girl's smart -- she moves further into the room, the stake clenched in one hand and the cross in the other.
Spike feeds.
It's so good -- better, somehow, for knowing Harris instead of him being a complete stranger. Xander's stomach muscles flutter underneath the sensitive skin of Spike's inner elbow and forearm, his hitched breathing like music to Spike's ears as he swallows mouthful after mouthful. He can smell Harris' arousal as his own cock hardens, and can't -- doesn't want to -- stop himself from thrusting forward, rubbing himself against that warm human ass. He drinks slowly, knowing that sooner or later it's got to stop, and he wants it for as long as possible.
"Spike..." Xander says, then, "Dawn?"
She steps closer, and immediately Spike forces himself to let go of Xander and back up. It's harder than he'd thought it would be, stopping, but he's in control again. "Yeah. Okay."
Harris claps a hand over the wound on his throat, the smell of the blood still thick in the air, and turns around to look at Spike. "You okay?" he asks cautiously.
"Yeah," Spike says, looking at the floor because it's easier to keep hold of himself that way. He swallows. "Better."
"We can't let this happen again," Dawn says, as Harris pulls his shirt back on.
"It won't," Spike says shortly, wondering what changed since the time she tried to offer to let him feed from her. Learned she can't trust him, he guesses. He adds a lie. "None of you are food. Don't want you to be."
"No, I meant you getting this hungry," Dawn says. He looks up into her eyes, which are far more understanding than he probably deserves. "There's got to be somewhere else we can find blood. Can we go somewhere there are a lot of cows or something?"
"That's not a bad idea." Harris takes the stake back from her, but doesn't say anything about the necklace. Seems just as happy not to talk about what just happened, which is just fine with Spike. "Look, I'm gonna go check on Wesley. Dawn... you want to come?"
Spike gets that Harris is trying to give him some time alone, which he probably needs, and he's more grateful for that than he is for the blood. "Yeah, you go on, Bit. I'll be along in a minute."
Dawn looks at him, big eyed, a small stain of blood seeping into the collar
of her t-shirt, and Spike wants her so much in that moment that he knows she'd
be better
They both leave, neither of them taking the lantern with them even though Spike doesn't need it and they must know that, and that's when he leans against the wall and slides down along it to sit on the floor. Spike stares at his hands dangling between his thighs and wonders what the bloody hell he's going to do now.
Dawn doesn't know when it happened, but she's holding Xander's hand as they go back to where Wesley is still sleeping, or lying unconscious. Xander crouches down next to the pile of first aid stuff and rummages through it, and she crouches with him, discovering that she doesn't want to let go of him.
"It's okay," Xander says, finding a box of really big bandaids and gently prying his hand away from hers. "Here, pull your collar back."
She does, baring the spot where Spike bit her, realizing then that she's shaking. "It wasn't his fault," she repeats, as Xander wipes the blood away and sticks on a bandaid.
"No, I think it was probably the chip's fault," Xander says, sitting back on his heels and looking at her. "Were you planning on telling us that it had stopped working, I don't know, ever?" But he doesn't sound as mad as she'd thought he would.
Dawn looks down at her hands, then moves and picks up a bandaid, starting to unwrap it. Her eyes keep darting over to Wesley, and she can't help but see how wrong he looks with his arm just... not there. "It's not like I didn't know you'd find out sooner or later," she says, gesturing at Xander to pull his shirt out of the way. She wipes off the little bit of blood that's kind of oozed out with a piece of gauze, then puts the bandaid on carefully. "Anyway... I trust him."
"Yeah, well, that'd be more convincing if he hadn't just tried to eat you," Xander points out.
"He couldn't help it," Dawn says miserably. "He's, like, starving." That thought makes her more upset and sad than the fact that he lost control for that one instant. She knows it was a mistake.
She doesn't want to think about it being a mistake that could happen again.
"Then we need to find him more blood," Xander says. "Because I don't know about you, but I'm not willing to become a walking, talking human blood bank for a vampire."
"I wouldn't mind," Dawn says very quietly, twisting the bandaid wrapper into a little toothpick shape.
Xander pauses, then says, "What?"
"I told him before," Dawn says. She raises her eyes to meet Xander's. "That if he needed to, you know, drink some of my blood sometimes, it was okay with me." She knows they've had basically this same conversation before. "But he said no."
"Well I'm glad one of you has some sense," Xander says. He rubs his forehead. "Wait. I just admitted that Spike has sense, didn't I."
Dawn smiles a little bit. "Maybe."
"That's not what I meant. I just meant..." Xander sighs.
Beside them, Wesley stirs and makes a small sound of pain, and Xander's attention is instantly diverted. He moves closer, reaching out to touch Wesley's hair gently without touching the mattress at all, like he doesn't want to jar him. "Wes? Wesley?"
Under his touch, Wesley seems to settle again, the lines on his face smoothing out.
"It's okay," Xander soothes. "I'm here."
It hurts Dawn's heart to watch. "I'm in love with him," she says, while Xander's still focused on Wesley. "I can't help it. I just am."
And Xander turns to look at her with his one eye, his hand still hovering over Wesley's hair. "Yeah. I know."
Spike sits there on the floor of the bathroom for a long time before he finally comes out, bringing the lantern with him. Dawn and Xander are sitting next to each other on the floor near Wesley, not talking.
"Gonna go smoke," he says. He doesn't want to do it without Dawn at least knowing where he is, and, to be fair, he wants to see what she'll say. If she'll offer to come with him. Not that he knows if he'd agree to it or not.
But Dawn just says, "Okay," and lets him go.
Spike's not sure how he feels about that.
He goes out and smokes, listening hard for any sounds that might be suspicious, but hearing nothing but the soft murmurs of Xander and Dawn talking inside. Spends a long time out there, and by the time he comes back in, Xander's asleep on a mattress next to Wesley's and Dawn is curled up on one of the other two. Her eyes follow him as he kicks off his boots and crouches down. "You okay?" he asks quietly.
Dawn props her head up on her hand. "Yeah. I'm okay. Are you?"
"Better," Spike says. He'd said it before. Seemed to work then.
He starts to lower himself onto the free mattress, but Dawn frowns. "What, do I suddenly have cooties or something?"
"Thought maybe you might like some space," Spike mutters, keeping his eyes down.
"No, I want to sleep with you," Dawn says. "I always sleep with you." As if it's that simple, as if this is the only life she's ever known, which is both untrue and fucking depressing as far as Spike's concerned.
Still, not like he wants to argue with her, and now that he's fed, he's feeling in control again, so he's not worried about being a danger to her. For now. He lies down next to her, the feel of the air mattress odd underneath him, and puts his arm around her automatically, not even thinking about it.
Like it's the only life he's ever known, too, and at least that's a little less depressing.
"There's stuff I need to do in the morning," Dawn says, stifling a yawn behind her hand. "There's a ton of medicine back there -- pills, mostly. And I figure there must be books too, some way to find out which ones are for what." She lowers her voice even though the other two are asleep. "Antibiotics. You know, so Wesley doesn't get an infection."
Girl's too smart for her own good, which just might be enough to get the rest of them through this. "Yeah. He's not gonna be up to traveling for days, probably. Unless there's no other choice. Plenty of time to sort through it all."
"Well, I want to do it sooner and not later," Dawn says. Her voice is warm against Spike's neck.
"Whatever you want," Spike tells her.
She squirms a bit, trying to get comfortable. "What are we going to do about the blood thing? If we're here for days, I mean?"
"Don't worry yourself about that. I'll think of something." He'll have to go out hunting, is what. Won't be the first time or the last, and at least Dawn won't be alone.
"I could still -- " Dawn starts hesitantly, and Spike shakes his head, cutting her off before she can finish.
"No," he says. "You saw what happens."
"But that was because you waited so long |