"Childhood living is easy to do
The things you wanted I bought them for you
Graceless lady you know who I am
You know I can't let you slide through my hands
Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses, couldn't drag me away." -The Rolling Stones
*****
"We're going to be so sick tomorrow," Buffy giggled as he helped her out of the tree house, and he really wished they'd thought to put a roof on it during their younger years. She was probably right, but Spike knew he'd never forget seeing her with her rain-dappled face, her mascara trailing down her cheeks in the flashes of lightning surrounding them.
He grinned as he hopped to the ground after her, taking her in his arms to kiss her hungrily and she laughed against his mouth, wrestling away. "Are you already wanting more?" she teased, pulling away just enough to look up into his eyes.
"Never gonna get enough," he replied, his fingers trailing beneath the hem of her drenched shirt, and she danced away from him, rolling her eyes playfully.
"I've gotta get home," she reminded him. "Brad's gonna be up in an hour for work."
Though she was still smiling, Spike could see the hint of worry in her eye and he nodded, taking her hand. "I'll walk you over."
"It's across the street, you goof."
Spike smiled, his tongue dancing over his teeth. "Never lettin' you out of my sight again, Summers," he told her.
"Why, 'cause I'm such a wildcat in the sack?" she joked, her cheeks pinking prettily.
"You said it, not me."
Skirting around the Giles' house, Spike crossed Revello Drive with his girlfriend's hand in his, the rain still pouring down in sheets as they crossed over into her yard. "Sure you can get up that tree in this?" he asked doubtfully, looking at the sodden bark of the oak that led up to Buffy's window.
"Please. How long have I been doing this?"
Spike smiled, taking her into his arms again. "Right you are."
Her lips met his, and Spike melted in her embrace as the rain ran down their faces. It had been a perfect night, and though he didn't want it to end, he knew there'd be more. Every day with her had been perfect since he'd met her in first grade, and the fact that they'd just made their relationship more... intimate was only a bonus.
"I love you," she told him as she pulled away, slightly breathless.
"Love you too, kitten," he told her, tilting his head as he stared down at her in awe. "Tonight really happened, right?"
She smiled brightly. "Yup. And hopefully, it'll happen tomorrow, and the next day, and..."
Spike laughed. "I've already turned you into a pervert. Shame on me."
"Good-night," she said with a soft giggle before grabbing for the branch that would lead her into the house.
"'Night, love," he replied, watching her ascend into the tree, disappearing into her room, not realizing that she was also disappearing from his life.
*
Five years later...
Spike woke up from the dream, unsure for a moment of anything; the day, the room, his own name...
It was always like that when he dreamt of her.
But as he looked out the sliver of glass that the sheet tacked over his window failed to cover, he saw the rain pouring outside, and inch by inch, reality came back to him. He was in his room, his apartment, and considering something that sounded like a boar was snorting away next to his ear, Dawn was in his bed.
Spike sighed. "Bloody hell."
He'd told her to stay in Oz's room; his roommate had left the evening before to stay over at Willow's, since she hadn't wanted to be alone.
Today was Joyce Summers' funeral.
Technically, Dawn was under his father's care, but Rupert Giles had seen nothing wrong with letting Dawn stay at Spike's for the past three days; she'd often stayed there when Joyce had been in the hospital for chemo, and for any other reason, as well. Joyce had trusted both men with Dawn, and even though she knew Spike's apartment was often a place for heavy drinking and loud partying, she'd known he wouldn't allow for anything to happen to Dawn. She'd made it very clear that should no one be able to contact Buffy for Dawn's guardianship that it would be left to them, and both of them had agreed. Dawn was family.
But Buffy had been contacted, and she'd agreed to become Dawn's guardian.
She'd be at the funeral, and Dawn would go with her after that, home to a house without her mother in it, with a sister she hadn't seen since she was eleven.
Spike didn't like it, but he also knew there wasn't anything he could do about it. He knew his father had spoken with Buffy several times over the phone, preparing her for her move from Los Angeles to Sunnydale, discussing legalities and finances.
Spike snorted at the thought. Los Angeles. Two hours away, and no one had heard from the girl in five years.
Forcing his increasingly angry thoughts away, Spike turned reluctant eyes on the teenager in his bed before shaking her shoulder. "Niblet," he said softly. "Time to get up now."
Dawn snored loudly, smacking her lips before rolling onto her side, and though Spike was in no mood to laugh, he couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped him; his Little Bit always made him laugh.
"Dawn," he said with more volume, shaking the girl again. "Come on."
"Mmnnn," she moaned in protest, her brow furrowing, and Spike looked sadly at her tear-stained face, knowing that when she opened her eyes, they'd be swollen from crying. He couldn't be angry at her for sneaking into his room, even if the rumor around town was that he was shagging the sixteen-year-old. "I don't wanna..." she mumbled.
"Dawn. We can't be late for this."
Spike's somber tone brought reality crashing down on Dawn, and he saw her shoulders hitch before she took a deep breath, forcing her tears away as she opened her eyes.
"You mad at me?" she asked.
"No," he replied. "Pretty much figured you'd be in here, so I made sure to wear something to bed."
"Good, because that would be gross," she replied, the last word broken in a yawn. Sitting up, she looked to the suit that was hanging on Spike's closet door. "I don't wanna do this," she whispered.
"I know," he told her, running a hand through her long hair. "No choice, though. And I'll be there."
"What about after?" she asked, her lips pressed into a line. "What if I never get to see you again?"
"You really think your sis is gonna be that big a bitch?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light, though he was honestly worried about the same thing.
"I don't know. You don't, either. Who knows at all? It's not fair. I should get to stay with you, and Giles and Jenny."
"We'll deal, pet. Been doin' fine this whole time, yeah?"
Dawn nodded resolutely, and he watched as she put her brave face on. "Yeah. Dealing. Getting good at that."
"There's my girl," he said. "Now, scoot. Gotta get dressed."
"Can I have the bathroom first?" she asked.
"Sure; like my showers cold, anyway."
Dawn's brow furrowed as she stood from the bed. "Spike? Do you think... what if I can't play the show tomorrow?"
He'd known the question was coming, and had talked with the rest of the band about it the night before. "Niblet, there's not gonna be a show without you, got that? You're part of the band; if you can't play, we'll cancel."
Dawn shook her head. "I don't want you to have to. Not because of me. I mean, I haven't been playing with you that long." She shrugged. "It's not like you really need a piano player, right?"
"Might not, but we've certainly gotten used to it," he said with a smile. "Besides, you write all our best songs."
Dawn blushed under the praise. "Do not."
"Do too, and you know it. Now, go get ready."
As Dawn scurried from his bedroom, Spike sighed. The girl had come so far in the past couple of years, and he was worried that Buffy's return might ruin it all. She hadn't acted this insecure for months, constantly searching for reassurance from him that she wouldn't be forgotten in the face of her sister's return.
While everyone else was up in the air about the fact Buffy was coming home, Spike was more concerned for the younger Summers girl, who'd been left in the wake of her sister's disappearance all those years ago, and Spike was thankful every day that the two had found each other.
They'd been the only two that had known of Buffy's secret, but neither had ever known why she'd disappeared that rainy night, and both of them had been put through hell afterwards. Questioned endlessly, and Spike had even been a suspect in his girlfriend's disappearance, though Dawn had backed him up when he'd finally let the truth out that the girls' stepfather had often hit Buffy.
Joyce had been destroyed by the knowledge, and had quickly divorced Brad Stephens, who'd left Sunnydale within days after being cleared of all charges involving Buffy's disappearance the following year.
Joyce had berated Spike for keeping Buffy's secret, leaving him on the Summers back porch, crying over his mistake. While he'd often spent time with Dawn during his visits to Buffy's, he'd been surprised when the girl had joined him on the steps, hugging him tightly.
Joyce had eventually apologized to Spike. The nightly searches for Buffy, or her body, had tapered into smaller and smaller groups over the months. Dawn had become a public figure at Sunnydale Middle School, someone to ridicule and analyze, and the cruelty of her classmates left her barely speaking at all, leaving her mother even more worried.
Six months after Buffy's disappearance, Spike had torn himself away from his constant search to find her, realizing Dawn needed someone that understood just as badly as he did.
He'd started teaching her to play the piano as an attempt to bring her out of her shell, and after a year of lessons, she'd flown by him, teaching herself after that point, and when she'd started composing her own songs, he'd taken them to the band without her knowledge.
Dawn had been fifteen when he'd hesitantly asked Joyce if she'd consider letting her daughter play a show with them every once in awhile, and he hadn't been surprised when the woman had insisted on seeing them play a show herself first. He'd never known a better mother, besides his own, and Jenny technically wasn't his mother at all.
And while Joyce hadn't particularly cared for their music, she'd seen how much joy it gave Dawn, and had given her permission for Dawn to join them once a month. But once a month had turned into once a week quickly, and Dawn had turned into a full-fledged member of the Dingoes six months ago, even receiving permission from her mother to play a show in San Diego three months before.
Joyce had trusted Spike, and he'd never taken advantage of it.
But he was worried that he wouldn't receive that trust from Buffy, and that the confidence he'd been slowly working to build in Dawn would be ripped away from her.
Not without a fight, he promised himself, his blue eyes steely as he looked outside at the pouring rain.
*
Buffy stood in the kitchen of her mother's home, wishing she could be anywhere else.
The counter was covered in neatly organized stacks of notes from Mr. Giles, along with all the information she'd need to start her life over in Sunnydale. Her mother's bank account numbers, all the information on the house, the gallery... it was all there.
But Buffy could only focus on one thing.
It was a simple note, lying apart from the others to ensure Buffy would see it.
'Dawn will be staying with William until the funeral. She's to return with you afterwards. --Giles.'
Buffy couldn't understand why her baby sister was staying with Spike; it made absolutely no sense, but she knew there had to be a reason, or Spike's father wouldn't have allowed it.
"Love, are you ready?"
Buffy turned to give a weak smile to her friend Drusilla, giving silent thanks that the girl had agreed to move with her. The thought of being in her mother's house alone, even for an hour... Buffy suppressed a chill.
"I'm good. Where's Emmy?"
Drusilla smiled softly. "She's worried about her hair. She said it's too big to meet her Aunt Dawn."
Buffy laughed silently at that, and it felt nice to be able to. Her daughter could always bring a smile to her face, and she knew that if it weren't for Emily, she'd be a wreck.
Heading upstairs to the bedroom that had once been her own, Buffy found Emily sitting on her new bed amidst the unpacked boxes, a profound pout on her face.
"So, what's this thing with your hair?"
Emily turned stormy blue eyes upon her mother. "It's too big," she complained.
"It's curly," Buffy told her. "It's not going to lay straight down, sweetie."
"Yours does," the four-year-old noted.
"That's because I have things that make it do that, and before you even ask, you can't use them." She smiled at the petulant glare Emily shot her. "Your hair's beautiful, Emmy."
"You think Aunt Dawn will like it?"
A wistful look crossed Buffy's face. "Of course she will. But if we don't get going, you're not going to get to meet her, are you?"
*
The Espresso Pump was nearly empty that morning because of the chilly weather, leaving Willow, Oz, Xander, and Tara mostly to themselves as they made half-hearted efforts to eat the bagels they'd ordered.
Xander chugged down his third cup of coffee before looking to his watch. "We should get going in a minute," he told the others, but the only reaction he received was a distracted nod from Tara. Leaving the table meant they had nowhere else to go except Shady Rest cemetery, where Joyce's funeral was being held. And once they arrived, there would be no denying the truth; Mrs. Summers was gone.
"You think Dawnie's doing better today?" Willow asked worriedly, stirring her cooling cappuccino with a spoon.
"She seemed alright last night before I left," Oz replied, pushing his bagel away towards the center of the table. "I think playing the show tomorrow might help."
Willow cast her boyfriend a dubious look. "If Buffy lets her go."
"You think she won't?" Tara asked.
The redhead shrugged. "Who knows? It's not like any of us really knows her anymore, right? She might not... she might not trust us."
"Surely Giles has told her about the band," Xander said. "I mean, I hope he has. Dawnie loves playing. And yeah, maybe Buffy's changed, but her and Dawn were close. I don't think she's going to go all evil step-sister. Or... just sister."
"Yeah, but she's not too happy about having to live with Buffy," Willow reminded him. "Not that I can blame her. I mean, five years? That's a long time." The redhead didn't voice her other worries, however, knowing that she was the only one that knew how hard Buffy's return to Sunnydale might hit Spike.
While he hadn't had much reaction to hearing about Buffy coming home, Willow clearly remembered the nightmare Spike's life had been after his girlfriend's disappearance, and how he'd nearly lost it after hearing she was alive and well in Los Angeles three years ago. It wasn't long after that when Spike had stopped mentioning Buffy at all, but Willow knew better than to think his silence was a healthy one. She knew him too well, and the slew of girlfriends he'd accumulated since then did nothing to fool her. She only hoped that if Spike did explode on Buffy, he'd at least wait until Dawn was more comfortable living with her sister, until things had settled down some. It wouldn't do any good to stir trouble right now, and she hoped her friend could see that.
Looking to her own watch, Willow knew it was time to make the drive to the cemetery, and she reluctantly stood from the table, letting Oz take her hand to brush a kiss across her knuckles.
"You okay?" he asked.
Willow nodded a bit, trying to smile. "I'll be fine. Let's go be there for Dawnie, huh?"
*
When Dawn and Spike arrived at the cemetery, it was nearing ten o'clock, and most of the mourners were already gathered under their umbrellas in small groups, some talking quietly as they waited for the minister to arrive.
"I hate these damn shoes," Dawn grumbled as she held onto Spike's arm for support, the heels of her pumps continually getting caught in the softened earth of the cemetery. Spike only shrugged sympathetically as he held their own umbrella over her head, waiting for her to dislodge the shoe before they continued on their way, and he nodded slightly in greeting to Willow when she spotted them.
"You wanna go with Red?" he asked Dawn softly, but she only shook her head, lacing her arm through his as she pressed her cheek to his shoulder, and Spike found her dainty hand, squeezing softly. She'd been strong all morning, even managing to snark at him a bit when he'd forced breakfast on her, but now that she could see the hole of the freshly dug grave, Spike could see the fear in her eyes.
Hearing the sound of a car door, Spike looked to the street to see his father's Mercedes at the curb, the elder Giles walking with Spike's stepmother Jenny, and the two men shared a brief look before Rupert stopped to talk with the minister, who'd just arrived.
Another car pulled onto the street as Spike was looking, and he watched as the pale green Beetle parked behind his father's car. Not knowing anyone close to Joyce that drove such a vehicle, he wondered if it was Buffy.
"Is that her?" Dawn asked softly.
"Could be," he replied, and glanced around to see nearly everyone was staring towards the Volkswagen.
The driver's side door opened first, and a pale dark-haired woman stepped out, leading Spike to think that he'd been wrong. A moment later, however, the passenger door opened, too, and it took him a moment to realize that the young woman exiting the car was indeed Buffy.
She looked incredibly different from the girl he'd dated in high school, so different he could hardly believe it, and he heard as Dawn gasped slightly, obviously as shocked as himself.
The last time he'd seen Buffy, her long hair had been a beautiful golden blonde, her skin a healthy bronze from days spent outside, or at the beach. Now, however, that skin was a pale ivory, looking like fine porcelain in contrast to the ash brown of her hair. She was much thinner, as well, and it didn't seem like the last five years had been especially kind to the older Summers sister.
Spike and Dawn watched as the stranger that had driven Buffy joined her on the sidewalk, and Buffy opened the rear door to the car, disappearing momentarily before she stepped back, and he felt the air still in his lungs as a young girl appeared, her small hand tucked in Buffy's as the three walked towards the gravesite.
She had a daughter.
As Buffy neared the crowd, Spike looked away to focus elsewhere, ignoring the rapid pace of his pulse, but Dawn had no such decorum, barely able to keep her jaw from dropping open at the sight of the little girl that was obviously her niece, and she noticed that she wasn't the only one that was having a hard time not staring; Willow's eyes were also wide with shock.
Oh, she's so cute, Dawn thought, looking at the girl's ringlets of curls that were pulled partly up with a white bow that matched those on her patent leather shoes. Her face was absolutely angelic, and when she saw Dawn looking at her she blushed prettily, raising her hand to wave her fingers timidly, looking around as if she thought she might get into trouble.
Dawn returned the wave, studying the child's tiny lips and large blue eyes. How could Buffy have kept her own niece from her? Could she be any more selfish?
Watching as the girl's curious eyes drifted away from Dawn onto the others gathered, Dawn's brow quirked slightly.
Where was her father?
Dawn wasn't naive; she'd been raised without her own father, and had never considered Brad to be one. but the girl didn't resemble Buffy much at all, except perhaps for her mouth, leaving Dawn to wonder who she'd inherited her beautiful eyes from. Obviously, Buffy was still a sucker for blue eyes.
...Wait.
Dawn took a deep breath, attempting to school her features as she studied the child more carefully. Her unruly soft brown hair. The well-defined line of her jaw...
No way. There is no way she could ever be such a bitch as to...
But when Dawn looked to Willow, she could clearly see the redhead had already stumbled to the same conclusion, and both girl looked nervously towards Spike, only to see him focused intently on the ground, unwilling to acknowledge Buffy's presence.
How could she do this? Dawn thought frantically, her grief pushing her emotions into overdrive. How could she not tell him, and then show up like this? At Mom's funeral?
"You alright, Niblet?" Spike asked, feeling Dawn's hand tremble within his.
"Spike..." Dawn mentally debated with herself for a moment. "Look at her."
"Look at who?" he asked shortly, thinking Dawn was speaking of Buffy, but Dawn rolled her eyes towards Buffy's daughter, trying to look inconspicuous though her sister was busy talking to the minister and Giles.
Spike did as he was asked. "Cute girl," he commented with a nod, his voice blank.
"No," Dawn nearly whimpered, squeezing his hand. "Look at her."
Spike could see the tears of frustration in Dawn's eyes; every little thing pushed her to the edge lately, but he couldn't understand why she was so intent on having him stare at Buffy's daughter. It wasn't as if he cared to be reminded that she'd so easily forgotten him, and had gotten knocked up by some wanker who obviously hadn't cared to stick around.
The little thing was obviously bored, which he couldn't fault her for. She hadn't known Joyce at all, so she couldn't be expected to be sad, though she was behaving very well, merely looking around at all the people who were strangers to her as she stood quietly next to her mother, who was nodding soberly at something the minister was saying to her.
Spike watched as his father led Buffy away from the minister, and realized the funeral was about to begin. He was about to tell Dawn that he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be seeing, but his father looked to him suddenly, his gaze intense. Spike knew that look very well, having seen it countless times; it was a warning.
But for what? He hadn't done anything; it wasn't as if he was planning on bawling Buffy out in the middle of Joyce's bloody funeral. The past was over; there was no reason to yell about anything now. No one could seem to understand that he no longer cared.
Buffy's daughter looked up to Giles then, smiling sweetly as she said something, and Spike watched as his father returned her smile before glancing nervously towards his son, and that's when it all locked into place.
Look at her.
Dawn had wanted him to see something, something his father already had.
Spike's brow furrowed deeply as the little girl moved to stand across the grave from him, her hand still gripped by Buffy's as the minister stepped forward to begin. He didn't hear a word of the service as his eyes drank in everything Dawn and his father had noticed before him.
She looked to be about three or four years old, and Spike wondered when her birthday was, quickly calculating it in his head as people wept quietly around him, as Dawn spilled her tears on the sleeve of his suit.
She would have been born in January, perhaps close to Buffy's own birthday, meaning she'd recently turned four.
If she was his.
Was she? Would Buffy have really kept her from him?
Why'd you leave? The question flitted through his thoughts unbidden, the one question that would always haunt him, no matter how he pushed it away, but he'd long given up on ever having an answer. She'd left him, left her family and friends, left them all to worry for nearly two years before Joyce had seen in her in Los Angeles, only to have Buffy run from her. It had driven Joyce to tears, and had driven Spike to madness. He'd nearly lost his life that year, and it had been a turning point for him, making him realize that the girl he'd loved so dearly hadn't cared for him nearly as much. The young man who'd believed in destiny had died then, and he believed himself better for it.
The little girl holding Buffy's hand brought up issues he couldn't ignore, however, and Spike inhaled sharply as she seemed to feel his eyes on her, looking up from Joyce's coffin to stare at him curiously, and he watched as she smiled ever so softly at him, as if she were afraid of being caught.
She's mine.
He felt an undeniable certainty surge within him as he looked at her, desperately wishing he knew her name, and Spike knew that he wasn't done with Buffy as he'd hoped. He couldn't be, not if the little fairy staring up at him belonged to him.
He intended to find out.
*
Buffy didn't weep as she watched her mother's casket being lowered into the grave, though her heart clenched at the soft sobs she heard from Dawn, who had her face buried against Spike's shoulder. She wished to anything she could be the one holding her sister, but knew it couldn't be. Dawn wasn't the little girl she remembered; she was nearly seventeen years old and obviously gorgeous, even with her swollen, red eyes. It made Buffy slightly uncomfortable to see Spike holding her, and she wondered exactly what their relationship was, even though she knew there was no possible way anything was going on between the two. Giles never would have allowed Dawn to stay with him if that were so. But it was clear to Buffy that Dawn was now nearly an adult, and didn't need her comfort; she had others for that, people who had been around for her. She fleetingly wondered if Giles would answer some of her questions, ones that didn't revolve around bank accounts and school fees.
Buffy had no intentions of trying to be a mother to Dawn; she knew it was impossible. She wanted to make things as easy on her sister as possible, which was why she hadn't questioned Dawn's choice of where to stay before the funeral. Buffy knew she was the interloper here, knew that Dawn might be uneasy around her, or possibly even hate her. She'd even considered allowing Giles to take custody of her sister, knowing she might have been more comfortable with the arrangement. She hadn't wanted Dawn to think she didn't care, though.
Feeling something brush her legs, Buffy looked down to see Emily fidgeting, and silently prayed the service was drawing to a close. She hadn't wanted to bring her to the funeral, but also hadn't thought she could withstand it without Drusilla. Emily had been a perfect angel so far, however, and Buffy hoped her luck would win out.
She felt surreal as Joyce's casket ended its descent into the earth, and Buffy let her eyes glance quickly around at the mourners, seeing Willow and Xander, along with another girl that Buffy thought might be Tara, Xander's cousin from Louisiana. They all looked so different, yet exactly the same.
Except for Spike.
She'd barely recognized her old boyfriend at first, and had only guessed so quickly that it was him because he was standing next to Dawn. When she'd left Sunnydale, Spike had been much thinner, bordering on scrawny, actually, and not nearly so... well, bleached. She was sure she'd changed a lot as well, but she hadn't even seen him look in her direction. No one had, really, but she'd felt them all look her way more than once, her presence distracting everyone from the real reason they'd gathered in the cemetery, and making Buffy feel even more guilty for avoiding her mother until it was too late.
As the service came to an end, Buffy braced herself for anything, unsure as to who might approach her, and was relieved when Giles and Jenny made their way over.
"It was a beautiful service, wasn't it?" Jenny asked kindly.
"It was," Buffy agreed, though she'd barely heard a word of it. Her mother hadn't really been the religious type, anyway. "I think Mom would've liked it."
"I'm sure she would have," Drusilla agreed, laying a comforting hand on Buffy's shoulder. "Would you like me to take Emily on to the car?"
Buffy smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Dru."
"She seems like a lovely girl," Giles commented as Drusilla led Emily towards the street, and Buffy could hear her daughter's voice babbling excitedly, glad she no longer had to keep quiet.
"Dru? Yeah, she's been great. I really don't know what'd I do without her. I didn't expect her to offer to move down here with us, but I'm glad she did."
"Buffy, if you have any questions at all, I want you to feel free to call," Giles told her. "I know this must all be overwhelming for you."
"It is, a little," she admitted, looking chagrined.
"You can call if you just need someone to talk to," Jenny added. "I'm usually up late."
"You guys have been great, really," Buffy told them. "I guess I should get Dawn home, though."
Saying their good-byes, Giles and Jenny walked over to Spike and Dawn, and Buffy stood alone, feeling idiotic as she waited for Dawn to come to her, unwilling to cross the short distance to where Spike stood with his family. She looked to her mother's grave, her lip trembling slightly before she could stop it, and quickly blinked away tears as Dawn hugged Giles and Jenny before smiling sadly at both of them. The smile disappeared, however, when she set her eyes on Buffy, and the older Summers sister steeled herself as Dawn walked slowly towards her, her feet unsteady in her heeled shoes.
"Before I go anywhere with you, I need to tell you something," Dawn spoke, crossing her arms across her chest.
"Um, okay," Buffy agreed with a nod.
"I'm in a band, and we have a show tomorrow. It's like a memorial thing for Mom. And I'm going," she added.
The vehemence in the girl's tone had Buffy feeling the sudden urge to run, and leave Dawn with the people she'd obviously rather be with. "Th-That's fine," she stammered.
"Good," Dawn replied, her eyes cold. "I'll be right back."
Buffy watched as she retreated back to Spike, speaking to him for a moment before embracing him tightly, and she watched as he placed a kiss on the top of her head before gesturing for her to go, his eyes meeting Buffy's momentarily before he turned away, but he didn't even so much as nod in her direction.
No one had spoken to her except for Giles and Jenny; not a single one of her old friends. They were already gone.
And she couldn't blame them.
Dawn said nothing as she returned to Buffy's side, waiting for her to lead them to Drusilla's car, and though Buffy wished for anything to make the moment less uncomfortable, she couldn't think of a single thing to say.
Emily solved that, however. As Dawn slid into the backseat next to the child, she quickly wrapped her arms around Dawn's, squeezing tightly as she grinned. "You're my Aunt Dawn!" she cried.
Startled from the heavy weight of her grief, Dawn smiled down at the girl in surprise. "Yeah, I am," she replied. "What's your name?"
"Emmy. I mean... it's Emily," she said primly. "I've seen pictures of you; you're pretty."
Dawn laughed softly, unable to help herself. "You're pretty, too."
"You're gonna live with me, right? In our new house? Mommy says it's not new to you, though. You've always lived there, right?"
"Um... yeah. That's right."
"Can I sit in your lap?"
"Emmy, no," Buffy spoke from the front seat. "Seatbelt, remember?"
Emily grumbled in disappointment, but threaded her fingers through Dawn's, smiling again in an instant.
"She's adorable," Dawn ventured, needing to say something to Buffy, anything to make the tension between them more bearable, though she wasn't sure how she felt about being under her sister's guardianship.
"She's done nothing but talk about you for days," Buffy replied, turning to look back at Dawn, and she could see the hopeful look in her sister's eyes. Had Buffy always had such sad eyes?
"Really?"
"Most definitely," Drusilla spoke up, meeting Dawn's gaze in the rearview mirror. "I'm Dru, by the way."
"Nice to meet you," Dawn said.
"It's nice to finally meet you," the woman replied.
Finally? Dawn thought. Has Buffy talked about me?
The thought put a fragile crack in Dawn's mental scenario of her sister's life in L.A. She'd thought Buffy had left without caring at all what they'd gone through without her, how much they had worried. It made no sense that Emily and Dru seemed to know so much about her, though. Why had Buffy talked about her, but refused to come home until now?
Why'd you leave in the first place? Dawn wondered, but knew it wasn't a question she could ask just yet. She wasn't sure she wanted to know, and there were more important things to think about.
Like what she was going to do without her mom.
A silent tear slid down Dawn's cheek, unnoticed except by Emily.
"Are you sad about Grammy Joyce goin' to heaven?" the little girl asked.
"Emmy--" Buffy started to say.
"It's okay," Dawn told her, brushing the moisture from her face. "Yeah, I am," she told her niece. "I'll be okay, though."
"That's what Mommy said, but she still cries."
Then, why did she wait so long to come home? Dawn thought bitterly, suddenly full of righteous anger. Oh, it must have been so hard, she fumed silently. Buffy didn't know anything about how hard the past months had been. She hadn't had to help her mother to bed, hadn't had to listen to her whimper in pain, or watch her vomit after the chemo, or watch her hair fall out until she didn't resemble the beautiful woman she'd been at all. She hadn't had to pretend to be an adult when all she'd wanted to do was demand her mommy to get better, because she needed her.
The remainder of the car ride was silent, Emily content to stare out the window at the strange new scenery, and when they arrived on Revello Drive, Dawn plucked her keys from her purse, walking ahead of the others to enter the house.
Looking around, she saw the living room was full of boxes, and immediately wondered what changes had already been made to the house.
"Um... is spaghetti okay for dinner?" she heard Buffy ask from behind her.
"I'm not really hungry," Dawn replied tonelessly.
"But you will be by tonight, right?"
"I... I don't know. I'm just gonna go to my room."
"Okay," Buffy said quietly, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably as Dawn turned away from her to go up the stairs. She didn't go straight to her room, however, choosing to take a look into Buffy's old bedroom, where she saw a twin bed with a pink floral comforter spread across it.
Buffy's in Mom's room, she thought, swallowing her tears. She knew it couldn't be helped, that there was no more room, but... it was too soon. It was too much, and Dawn suddenly found everything completely unfair. She'd been so strong, had promised her mother she'd be fine, that she'd accept Buffy back into her life if she returned, and if not, that she'd be on her best behavior for Giles, Jenny, and Spike, who'd been more than willing to take care of her.
How am I supposed to do this, Mom? she asked, wishing more than anything that her mother could somehow find a way to answer her. Everything's changing, and I don't know if I can be strong anymore. I don't want her here; I can't help it. I don't want her in your room.
Walking slowly down the hall, Dawn peered into Joyce's bedroom to see the cardboard boxes stacked neatly in the corner, all labeled in Buffy's slanted hand; their mother's clothes, taken out of the dresser drawers that were still hanging open as if protesting the vacancy. Buffy had also already stripped the bed, and Dawn could see an open box full of the various pictures and decorative items that had once filled the room.
Was Buffy trying to erase her from the room? And if so, why? Was it because it was painful? If so, Dawn thought she could understand. But what if she just didn't care? What if she wanted no reminder of her life in Sunnydale, and already wished she hadn't come back?
Choking back a sob, Dawn turned and fled for her bedroom, where she stayed for the rest of the day.
