InsaneJournal

Fic: DISTANCE (pt 53 of ?) - redacted
This section of the fic has been redacted. I've left it here as an out-take.





Previously

People pushed past them, going in, going out. A song by Belle & Sebastian played, a group of girls laughed, and in front of her Spike was spectral. Doubt and pity lapped and overlapped in her. How could he really imagine he could return here and not see Buffy?

But there was that scar, which told her there were imponderable factors behind his strangeness.

Still, was this for her to judge? No. It couldn't be.

Spike said, "Don't want to make her unhappy. Couldn't bear that, Bit."

She took his arm and steered him, gently and firmly, out the door. "Don't you know Buffy would rather be unhappy with you than happy anywhere else?"

It was only as they drove through the outskirts of St Andrews, heading northwest, that it occurred to Dawn to wonder how Spike had come from London. They'd been in the car some ten minutes, and he was fast asleep, head lolling back against the rest. In the yellow glare of the overhead roadlamps, his adam's apple cast too large a shadow, the scar around his throat was lurid. Maybe he'd hitched the night before, and been awake all day, waiting for the time he could go out and find her.

She said his name, once, twice. No response. Dawn picked up her mobile in her left hand and pressed 3.

Buffy never answered her calls; she always let it go to voicemail. So Dawn called Xander. He always picked up on the first ring, for her. "Sweetie, I need to talk to my sister immediately."

She could hear the echo, the grunts and cries in the background, that told her Xander was in the big training room.

"Everything okay?"

"I promise it is but please just find her for me stat."

"She's here, just a sec'."

A pause, then Dawn heard the distorted throb of a speed bag taking a pounding, and the hum of voices. Apparently Buffy didn't want to stop her workout to take a call. Dawn waited, glancing between Spike and the road. The seat-belt was the only thing keeping him from sliding into the footwell. She thought of stopping, moving him to the back where he could lie down—sort of, it was a Mini Cooper—but she didn't want to waste time.

Then Buffy came on, sounding impatient. "Hi Dawn. What's wrong?"

She'd have liked to say why does there have to be something wrong for us to talk? but now wasn't the occasion to play games.

"Buffy, I'm in my car heading towards you. I'm bringing Spike."

On the other end, silence. She heard the ambient sounds of the gym, and nothing else for a long long moment, until Xander said, "Dawnie, that really isn't funny."

"I'm telling the truth. Put Buffy back on."

Another silence, then her sister, voice tight with fury. "What are you talking about?"

"He's here, Buffy. He's back. I'm bringing him to you right now, we're on the road, we're getting near Perth."

"I don't understand."

Dawn glanced at Spike again. Maybe she could wake him up, put him on.

Buffy said "Dawn. Explain this to me right now or so help me—"

"He's incredibly thin ... fragile. He's been trying to get back for a long time. I think, many years."

"Let me talk to him."

"He's exhausted. He fell asleep."

"Asleep."

"I—I'll try to wake him, but—"

Another tight little silence. Then Buffy said, "No. Just hurry. Damn it, Willow's in Argentina, I can't teleport. Be careful. Don't speed. Call me back when you get to the coast."

When the phone call was over, Buffy was tight-lipped, pale, her face granite. Silently, she held her boxing gloves up for him to pull off. She was patient as he untaped her hands. When he'd freed her, she moved slowly, a little jerky, like a wind-up toy, her voice low.

"I'm going to need blood, Xander. Would you please get the stuff from the medical supply room so I can draw it--a butterfly needle, a bag, you know what I mean? And meet me in my rooms in a little while? I'll shower first. And maybe you could let Giles know. Also, we have to make sure there's no one around, no fuss when he gets here. He's not going to be up for a lot of staring or greetings."

"Blood, check. Giles, check. No fuss, check." Xander wanted to give her a hug, but she was so clearly not in a huggy frame of mind; she had her before-the-battle aspect in place, one he knew better than to try to distract her from.

When he went up to her apartment, half an hour later, she was in her terry robe, wet hair hanging down, still grim with inwardness.

She looked, Xander, thought, absolutely miserable.

"Help me with this, will you?" She was already making a fist, plumping the veins in her arm. Xander unwrapped the butterfly, straightened the tube on the plastic collection bag. He'd learned, with much else this last year, how to efficiently find a vein, though usually it was for getting drugs into the girls, rather than blood out. As he stuck her, Xander couldn't help thinking of Dawn, alone in her tiny car with a ravenous vampire. He wished he was there with her. Anything could go wrong.

Buffy was staring at the bag, rapidly filling with her blood. He imagined he could feel her vibrate as she sat there at the heavy wooden table he'd mended. She gazed distractedly at nothing, as if she was giving blood at a drive.

"Hey Buff, it'll be okay."

She nodded, distracted, full of thoughts he couldn't begin to fathom.

"I wonder why he went to Dawnie first."

Buffy sighed, pinching the needle, pulling it out. "He likes her."

"Huh."

"Spike loves me. But it's Dawn he likes the best."

She'd just finished telling Xander that they were only ten miles away now, and dropped her phone back into its cradle on the dash, when Spike stirred. He woke with a snarl, flexing free of the seat belt by wrenching it from its mooring with a crack. Dawn screamed, and the car left the road, bumping down a little incline, through a wire-and-slat fence, into a farmer's field. She had the door open, her boots planted in the crumbly loam, when his hand closed on her arm.

"Don't run, Bit. Not gonna hurt you."

When she glanced back, it was his human face she saw again, but even so her whole body throbbed with terror.

"Sorry," Spike said. "Bloody hell, I'm sorry, pet. Just didn't know where I was."

"I ... I guess you've had some bad awakenings."

"Could call it like that, yeah. Where are we?"

"We're ... we're almost there. If we can get back on the road."

"I'll put us there. Get out of the car."

He didn't look, as he hauled himself out of the tiny car, like he could put one brick on top of another.

"Spike, if you need ... you could ...." She started to shrug out of her jacket, but the look of horror on his face stilled her.

"Wouldn't touch it," he said. "Ought to know that." He shook his head. "Here, stand aside."

Her sister could--and when she first got the car, had, for a joke, saying Dawn never put her toys away so she had to do it for her--lift the Mini off the ground and carry it. It was easy to forget that Spike was nearly as strong. He didn't pick the car up, merely pushed it backwards up the short steep slope, back onto the quiet road. In the old days he'd have done it like nothing; this time she saw, as she scrambled up herself, how he leaned against the bonnet, pretending to feel around in his duster pockets for his smokes as a way of hiding his recovery. By time she reached him, he was smoking, standing upright again.

"Come on," Dawn said, slipping into the driver's seat, starting the engine. "We're nearly there."

"Don't want to stink it up inside."

"Roll down the window. Come on."

"I'll pay to fix what's broken," Spike said. "M'sorry for it."

"It doesn't matter. But yes, you can pay."

"This could've been bad."

"Let's go." It was clear to her now that he was stalling. She got out of the car, came around to him. "Spike. What are you afraid of?"

Before he could answer, headlights appeared, advancing rapidly towards them. Dawn squinted.

The SUV stopped a few yards off, both doors opening.

Her sister looked so small, back-lit by the high-beams, coming towards them. She didn't run, or even particularly hurry. Dawn saw Spike drop the cigarette, crush it out. He didn't move toward her, just stood waiting, more as if he was about to be slapped in handcuffs than reunited with his one true love.

Xander reached her then, slipping an arm around her. He didn't speak. They were both watching.

Spike, still leaning on the car's hood, arms curled around himself, head low, looked towards Buffy coming closer, almost as if he didn't know her, as if he was mildly curious about what this woman would have to say. She stopped a couple of yards off. Her arms were folded, like she was cold. The rain had held off during most of the trip, but it began to patter again now, big splotches striking the car and the road surface, hitting her leather jacket like dollops of birdshit. Xander squeezed her tighter.

Buffy rocked a little from her feet, like a sapling in the wind.

Dawn wanted to shout at them. Why this stupid hesitation?

"Wouldn't ... didn't mean to hurt her."

Buffy lifted her chin; a gesture of inquiry. She didn't move. In her ear, Xander whispered, asking what happened. Dawn shushed him.

"An' so, I'm back."

Still, neither of them moved. It was all Dawn could do not to rush at them, shove them together, the way she used to mash her dolls when she was little.

Spike laughed suddenly, a sound that, out here, might've come from some wild thing in the hedgerow. "Just your requisite, ain't I, Slayer? Faulty vampire, not good for much but causin' you trouble."

Why why why didn't she go to him? Dawn glanced up at Xander, who seemed to be thinking the same thing. Buffy might as well have been bolted to the spot. Her eyes were wide, but otherwise she'd repressed all expression.

Spike regarded her. "You're thin too, pet. Poor girl. I'll have to feed you up."

It was then, as if at some subtle signal, that she moved, closed the distance, Spike stepping forward too, snatching her up so her feet left the ground. They didn't kiss. Lurching together, off balance, then Spike seeming to fold beneath Buffy's frail weight on his shoulders. She seized him firmly around his chest, propping him, then led him towards Xander's SUV, idling with the doors wide open.

Xander said, "Can you drive yourself back?"

"Yes ...." She didn't want to let her sister and Spike out of her sight, even as she knew that in a little while they'd disappear into the tower and remain invisible for a long time. Xander seized her reluctance, told her to pull her car onto the shoulder and they'd come back for it later.

As she climbed into the front seat of the SUV, she saw her sister in the back, Spike's head resting in her lap. She was stroking his hair with a soft absent gesture, as if it was some plush toy she'd found beneath her hand. She was pallid with a sort of shock. Dawn had to reach across the seat back to pull the belt around her; she seemed unaware of her surroundings. Spike's eyes were shut; Dawn wondered if he'd fallen asleep again, or was unconscious, but then his hand came up, curling around Buffy's wrist. Their hands came together. She squeezed his tight.


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