Day 92

by SpikesKat

Spike trudged up the steps and let himself inside; his face became an expressionless mask to keep the others from seeing the pain that had yet to ease since the Slayer’s death. 

The sounds coming from the kitchen seemed normal enough, but he knew better. The movements were slow, jerky. Conversation was hushed, unlike just a few short months ago, even with the threat of Glory looming over their heads. He moved off in that direction, popped his head around the corner and smiled slightly when Tara looked up from the book she was reading and waved hello. His greeting from Willow was much chillier, if not downright hostile; her pinched features and lack of verbal greeting would have cowered a lesser man. 

But then, he was a vampire. And an evil one at that. 

Besides which, he didn’t care what Willow thought about his constant presence at the Summers house. He was there for Dawn, no one else. He’d made a promise after all. 

“I’m just gonna check on the ‘Bit,” he mumbled and left the kitchen, rather than mince words with the girl. 

As he walked away, he could hear Tara berating Willow for her unwelcoming attitude. A first, and Spike admired her for her gumption. 

Spike climbed the stairs but paused midway up as he caught the faint strains of music coming from Dawn’s room. While not the upbeat boy band tunes she was often caught cranking at high volumes, what she was listening to was a far cry better than that maudlin shite she’d taken to listening to in the days immediately following Buffy’s death. He crept up the last few steps and peeked through the partially opened doorway. What he saw caused a genuine smile to appear. 

Dawn, his ‘Bit, was lip syncing to the song, both hands wrapped around the brush that was doubling as a microphone. There was an earnest look upon her face as she seemingly belted out the lyrics in front of the mirror, and for once it was devoid of the haunted look that had taken up residence in the wake of her sister’s dying. 

Loathe to disturb her moment of teenaged normalcy, Spike retreated the way he’d come. Only, the heel of his boot caught on the rug and he fell backwards against the far wall, the ensuing crash hard enough to rattle the walls… never mind the noise it made. 

The music was cut off abruptly and a moment later the door was flung wide. Full of righteous indignation, Dawn appeared, brandishing her brush like a weapon, her mouth open and ready to blast the person who’d dared intrude upon her personal space. Seeing Spike, however, her anger gave way to delight, and she dropped the brush as she rushed forward exclaiming his name and eagerly enfolding him in a hug. 

“Hey, Niblet,” Spike replied as his arms settled in a familiar position around her shoulders. “How was your day?” It had become their “thing”, that question, his signal to her that he was there for her and no one else, that she was who was important to him. 

“Okay,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “Janice and her mom took me to the beach this afternoon.”

“Did she now? Well, that was nice of them. Have a good time?” 

“Yeah. It was alright.” 

Spike heard the hesitation in her voice and leaned back. Placed one hand beneath Dawn’s chin and made her look him in the eyes. 

“She wouldn’t begrudge you your happiness, ‘Bit,” he said, guessing at her sudden reticence. “She’d want you to be happy. To live your life. I don’t want you feeling guilty for having a bit of fun, alright? Alright?” he added again when she continued to look worried. 

“Yeah. Okay.” 

She didn’t seem convinced, but Spike took her at her word. “Good. Now, come on. I brought a coupla’ movies we can watch while the witches are off doing their thing.” 

This time her “okay” seemed a bit more heartfelt, and Spike breathed a sigh of relief that Dawn hadn’t reverted to tears – a distinct possibility whenever he brought up the subject of Buffy. The hurt was still fresh for both of them. 

“What movies did you bring?” she asked as they descended the steps together and made their way to the living room. 

Spike shoved his hands in his pockets, drawing his duster tightly around him, already dreading Dawn’s screeching when she saw what he’d picked out. 

Bring It On. Miss Congeniality. 

Some Big Bad he turned out to be. 

The End

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