Summary: Spoilers for "The Gift" and S6. Spike manages to save Dawn, but pays a terribly high price. Will he be able to find meaning in his suffering?
Author's Notes: The title and some of the philosophy behind this story comes from Viktor Frankl's book Man's Search for Meaning, a must-read if you haven't already. In any case, it's basically about the importance of finding meaning in our suffering, since that's the only way we can avoid giving into despair. On a side-note, not everything in this story may be physically possible. But I didn't have Spike to experiment on, so you'll just have to take it as a plot device and leave it at that. As always, thanks and love to my beta, Heather.
Rating: PG-13
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Spike came out of the basement just as the front door closed behind Buffy's retreating form. "'ey, Niblet. Where's your sister goin'?"
"Out," Dawn replied shortly. "She had to go kill some demon." She looked over at him, her entire countenance radiating disappointment. "We were supposed to have dinner together."
Spike's face softened. He hated to see his Bit sad for any reason. "Well, come on then. I'll fix dinner for the both of us."
The look she gave him was dubious at best. "That's okay, I think I'll pass."
"What, you don't think I can cook?" he asked, acting highly offended. She hesitated, not wanting to hurt his feelings, and he went on. "Been watchin' the cooking channel for six months now, pet. Some of it should have rubbed off." Not waiting for her reply, he set off for the kitchen, with Dawn trailing reluctantly behind.
She sat on the counter, watching him rummage in the fridge. "Where's Glinda?" he asked, his voice slightly muffled.
"She had a paper to work on, so she was going to spend time in the library," Dawn replied. "Buffy thought it would give us a chance to hang out, but then this thing came up and she had to take off."
"Slaying's important, Bit," he said, finally deciding to make an omelet and beginning to pull the makings out.
"I know that," she replied. "But I've barely seen her recently. It's like she doesn't even want to spend time with me."
He looked at her sharply. "You know that's not true."
"Could have fooled me," Dawn mumbled. Spike chose to pretend he didn't hear that in favor of beginning his omelet. He worked in silence, save for the occasional question asking the girl what she did and didn't like. It didn't take long before it was done, and he slid it on a plate in front of her.
"Go on," he said. "You watched me make it, so it's not like you don't know what's in it."
He started heating up his own dinner in the microwave, waiting for her comments. "It's good," she said.
"Well, you don't have to sound so surprised," he snarked, trying to hide his pleasure. She gave him a little smile that told him she knew exactly what he was doing, and dug in. Spike gulped down his blood and started cleaning up. Buffy might get on his case for a dirty kitchen, but it was Tara that he was truly afraid of. She was the one who could turn him into an undead frog after all, or slip something into his blood.
Dawn helped him finish, marvelling at the ease with which he moved around on his crutches. He really could do almost anything. Except for fight, of course, which she supposed bothered him more often than he let on.
"Have you gotten anything for the Slayer's birthday yet?" he asked, handing her the last clean dish.
She shrugged. "No, but I don't have a lot of money," she confessed. "If I were still-you know-I could just pick something up."
"But you're not, so you won't," he said sternly, to which she rolled her eyes.
"Well, yeah. But that kind of limits me in a big way."
He looked at her for a long time. "Tell you what, Bit. I haven't got anythin' for your sis yet either. So I'll provide the cash if you'll provide the brains. How's that?"
"I can't take your money," she protested.
"It's not takin' my money," he replied easily. "Knowin' my luck, I'll pick out somethin' she hates. So we'll go in together."
Dawn smiled slowly. Not only was she going to be able to get her sister a great gift now, but she also got Spike to herself for the evening. Knowing the vampire, she could probably even talk him into some ice cream.
When they got home a few hours later, Dawn felt she had the perfect gift for Buffy in a very pretty sheer blouse. Spike had looked rather dubious over her choice, but had let her have her way. "What would you have gotten her?" she asked him, curious and slightly miffed that he didn't think more highly of her choice.
"Somethin' sharp and shiny," he had replied with an evil grin.
As they entered the front door, she stole a look at the vampire. He'd been around a lot recently she realized, and had spent more time with her than Buffy had. Spike looked up to meet her eyes. "You should get to bed, Bit," he said. "It's past all good kiddies' bedtime."
"Good night, Spike," she replied, and then paused, impulsively hugging him. "I love you."
Spike was too shocked to say much of anything, managing a weak, "Same here." He stared at her retreating figure as she climbed the stairs. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him like that. He closed his eyes reflectively. She shouldn't have been able to wrap him around her little finger, but she had. He sighed. He was done for.
~~~~~
"I'm going to kill Xander," Buffy mumbled, leaning against the kitchen wall. Spike, who had just emerged from the basement, looked over at her with one raised eyebrow.
"And just what's Harris' offense?" he asked with some amusement.
She rolled her eyes. "He and Anya invited a friend."
"Last I heard that wasn't a crime," he replied.
"A single, male friend," she clarified.
Spike wasn't sure whether to laugh or get mad. The annoyed look on his Slayer's face told him that she wasn't at all happy about being set up. On the other hand, there was every possibility that she could get interested in this wanker, and then where would he be? "You want me to scare him off?" he asked lightly, an evil look in his eyes.
"No," she replied. And then she gave him a reluctant smile. "But it's tempting. I'm just not into doing a relationship right now. I don't have the time or the energy."
Spike wanted to ask her what he was, since she'd been hanging onto him pretty tightly recently. But it was her birthday, and he didn't want to piss her off. As things stood, she was definitely softening towards him, which could only be a good thing as far as he was concerned. "Well, if you need rescuing, you know where I'll be."
He stayed mostly on the fringes, a position both he and the Scoobies recognized as his. Tara came and stood by him as they watched Buffy begin to open presents. "Richard's kind of cute." She looked over at him with a sly grin. "Don't you think? I'm not an expert."
He threw her a sour look and decided to get back a little of his own. "And Red's lookin' 'specially biteable this evenin'."
She blushed slightly, and they both shared a look. "Are you going to make a move on her?" Tara asked.
"Not unless she asks for it," he replied, knowing very well that his ability to "make a move" was severely limited. "You?"
"It's not time yet," Tara said, uncomfortable with his line of questioning. They fell silent, perfect understanding between them.
They watched as she opened Willow's gift, a portable massage thing, and then Dawn eagerly pressed her package into her hands. "Mine next," she insisted.
Buffy opened the box and smiled at the blouse. "It's beautiful, Dawn. But you must have spent too much."
Dawn shook her head. "Spike and I went in together."
Buffy looked up at the vampire, who was standing across the room, the last vestiges of his black eye still fading. "Thanks." She looked at her sister. "To both of you. It's really pretty."
And then the next moment the blouse was forgotten as Xander wheeled in a truly handsome weapons chest. Spike could certainly appreciate the craftsmanship, but he saw Dawn's disappointment as Buffy set her gift aside.
The party was still going strong a few hours later. Spike was mildly surprised that no one had left yet, but the guests seemed to be having a good time. He, Xander, and Tara were playing a game of poker, while Buffy and the others, including Richard, were playing a game of Monopoly. "You could probably go join them," Tara murmured. "I doubt Buffy would mind."
"Don't think so," he said, with as much indifference as he could muster. "Think I'll avoid letting the demon-girl clean my clock."
Xander looked from one to the other of them, trying to discern the vibes he was sensing. "I thought you liked playing poker, Spike," he said.
"I do," he said mildly, shooting Tara a look that plainly suggested she keep her opinions to herself. "Which is what we should be doing."
By the next morning, the oddity of the never-ending party was beginning to impose itself on Spike. On the other hand, Buffy was pretty much ignoring Richard in favor of playing gin with him.When Richard came in to tell Xander that they needed to get to work, he had no problem giving the git a hard time. "You should definitely go," he said cheerfully. "Wouldn't want to be late for work now. 'Course, you shouldn't skip breakfast, growing boy like you."
Richard looked slightly puzzled, and Buffy gave him a mock glare, lips twitching. "Speaking of breakfast, I haven't had mine yet." A wicked grin pulled up the corners of his lips.
"Spike." It was one word, a warning he chose not to heed.
"I'm usually a picky eater, but 'm hungry enough today just to eat whatever's left lying about." He smirked, and he heard Buffy give a little huffy breath, somewhere between a grunt and a giggle.
"That's absolutely enough," she said, standing up and hauling him to his feet. "If you're really that hungry, let's get you fed."
She followed him into the hall, making sure he was moving. "Oh, come on, Slayer," Spike purred. "I was just havin' a bit of fun with the new boy-toy."
"He's not my new boy-toy," she said. "And we do not joke about eating people in this house. I mean it." But there was a glint in her eyes that might have been humor, and he moved just a little closer, invading her space.
"He didn't even get the joke, luv." He grinned. "You can't tell me it wasn't funny."
"It wasn't funny," she said, but he got a reluctant smile. "You really should go get your breakfast, Spike."
"Nice to know you care," he said, his voice a whisper of sound so that no one would hear him.
She hesitated, and then reached out to put a hand on his own, where it gripped the crutch. "I always care."
"Buffy?" He frowned, realizing something odd, in spite of the tenderness of the moment. It wasn't that he wanted to leave-the sunny day effectively prevented that-but no one else was leaving either, even though he knew they all had places to be. "Why isn't anyone leaving?"
She returned the frown, seemingly frozen in place. "I'm leaving," she insisted. "I've got class. And work." When nothing happened, she protested, "I am leaving."
"Sure you are," he said, sarcasm lacing his words. "Looks like we're going to be havin' a meeting."
The meeting itself was fruitless. About the only information that was disseminated was that they all had other places to be, except, perhaps, for Spike. But even when they were all supposed to jump out the door together (again, Spike wasn't including himself in that group) nothing happened and no one moved. Dawn's huffy outburst and retreat to her room set off alarm bells in everyone's heads though, and Buffy swiftly followed her sister. The rest of them might have gone as well, but Spike nixed that idea. "The Bit's upset enough already without you lot comin' down on her. Give Buffy 'n me a minute to straighten things out, then we'll see."
Amazingly enough, they listened to him. It appeared they were actually coming to trust him after all this time, and he made his own slow way up the stairs after the Slayer, hearing raised voices as he neared the youngest Summers' room. "I didn't have anything to do with it!" Dawn exclaimed angrily. "Figure it out yourselves. I'm done being talked to like a kid."
"You're right, Niblet." Spike came up behind Buffy in the doorway. "You're not a kid, and if you say you didn't have anythin' to do with it, fine." He put his hand on Buffy's arm and squeezed, hoping she'd follow his lead. Apparently, she was beginning to trust him too, because she simply nodded.
"Spike's right, Dawnie," Buffy said softly. "If you say you don't know anything about what's keeping us here, we believe you." She frowned slightly. "But your outburst downstairs just made it seem like you didn't want anyone to leave in the first place."
"Yeah, well, it takes something like this to get anybody to spend time with me in the first place." Dawn's face was sullen.
"We want to spend time with you, Dawn," Buffy said, her voice edged with exasperation. "But we have other places we have to be. Work, school. You have school too, in fact."
"All more important," Dawn muttered.
Buffy was about to retort, but Spike stayed her again. He had a feeling that a lot of her anger was centered on Buffy and her frequent absences at this point, but she was being childish, and there was no talking to her while she was in this state. "Right then. Let us know if you've got anything of importance to add, Bit," he said briskly. "Until then, we'll just leave you to yourself."
Buffy followed him out of her room and into the hallway. "What the heck was that about?" she demanded. "She's being a complete child."
The vampire shook his head. "She's a teen, luv. And she's been feelin' a bit left out lately. 'Magine she was just enjoyin' everybody here and not dashin' off like, and then you all have to go and she takes it hard. Give her some time to cool off. She'll be fine."
Buffy stared at him. "When did you get so good with her?" she asked.
He shrugged, uncomfortable with the question. "Spent a lot of time with her these last months, is all. Nothin' to it really."
They went downstairs to join the others. Anya, Xander and the rest had decided that Tara would try a releasing spell. Spike thought it was lucky that they had the only practicing witch living at the Summers', since Willow wouldn't have had any spell ingredients around. Of course, with their luck, the spell didn't release them, it released the monster that had somehow been imprisoned inside its own sword. The thing tossed him across the room and managed to give Richard a pretty good slash across the stomach before Buffy arrived to take it down.
Though, in this case "down" meant it disappeared into the floor, and Spike was certain that they hadn't seen the last of it.
~~~~~
"You ever thought of not celebratin' a birthday?" Spike asked wryly hours later, after the sun had gone down and they were still stuck inside the house. "Just for a change."
Buffy shot him a disgruntled look and didn't reply, looking out the window. "I'm going to check upstairs," she said. "Stay down here and keep an eye on everything, will you?" she asked, shooting a significant look at Dawn.
He nodded, watching her go, then taking a seat next to Dawn on the couch. "You okay, Niblet?"
"I'm fine," she said. A noise alarmed her. "What was that? Spike? It sounds like it's in the walls."
He took his crutches and quickly got to his feet again. "Dawn, get the crossbow for me. Best be prepared."
A few minutes passed, as Spike and Dawn stood ready. Suddenly, his sharp ears caught the sounds of a struggle and Xander's voice. He swung himself toward the noise, crossbow hung around his neck. "Bloody hell," he muttered. Spike didn't have much choice besides the bow in his condition, though he wasn't at all sure the bolt would do anything to it. He fired anyway, relieved when the thing loosened its grip on the carpenter. He was not so relieved when it decided to come after him. Just then Buffy showed up and proceeded to do her best to kick its ass. Not surprisingly, it disappeared back into the woodwork.
Buffy stopped to check on both he and Xander, who was busy comforting Anya. Dawn was still being her sullen self and quickly followed Buffy up the stairs. Spike was trying to decide whether to follow them or not when Anya decided to confront Willow. He was just about to step in when Tara beat him to it, telling the ex-demon in no uncertain terms that Willow was not to be trifled with. Spike took the opportunity to grasp Xander by the arm. "Take care of your girl, Harris," he said softly. "She's starting to freak."
Xander looked like he was going to argue for a minute, and then nodded shortly, following his fiancee as she headed upstairs. Spike turned to look at Tara, where she still stood next to her ex-girlfriend. "Remind me not to get on your bad side, Glinda," he said with a half-smile. And then he looked over at Willow. "Good on you for sticking to your guns, luv."
Willow looked at him, startled and grateful. "Thanks, Spike."
After that, things got hectic again. Dawn came rushing down the stairs, Xander, Anya, and Buffy hot on her heels. Anya had been going through her room and throwing out accusations. All Spike could think was that it was a good thing Dawn had removed all evidence of her sticky fingers. Buffy had protested that it wasn't Dawn's fault, she'd been tricked into making some sort of wish. Anya had gone screaming for Halfrek, who happened to be someone Spike would have been just as happy never to have seen again.
Thence followed the usual mayhem and demon fighting until the "justice demon" had finally lifted the curse (having been hoist on her own petard) and everyone finally started leaving. Spike was just happy that he could finally go out to the back porch and have a very well-deserved smoke. Which was where Buffy found him a few hours later.
"You alright?" she asked.
"Fine. You?"
"I'm good." There was a long pause as she settled down next to him. "Dawn's in bed. We had a long talk. I think things'll be better now."
"Good. That's good. She's missed you."
She was silent, finally looking over at him. "What was that all about tonight? Anya's friend recognizing you?"
He shook his head. He didn't really want to explain. That memory was still painful, even now after more than a century. Instead, he reached over next to him and grabbed the thin, brightly wrapped package. "This is for you," he explained. "The real present, I mean. The shirt was Dawn's idea."
"And you were the one who paid for it and took her to get it," Buffy replied with a smile. "Dawn told me. She also told me what she probably would have done if you hadn't gone with her, and what Anya probably would have found if you hadn't said something a while ago."
He moved his shoulders, embarrassed by her praise, subtle as it was. "Promised I'd look out for her, didn't I?"
"Yeah, you did." She took the package from his outstretched hand, carefully peeling off the paper. "Oh." It wasn't anything that she'd expected. At all. Especially after what she'd done.
He swallowed. "You don't have to read it," he said quickly. "Don't expect you to. I just-I wanted to leave somethin' behind, somethin' of myself. There's stuff in there that you won't like, but it's all truth." He paused, trying to read her expression, but found it impossible. "If you want to read the first bit, it'll explain how that bint knew me tonight. You'll get the others as I finish them. I just ask that you don't throw 'em away, 'sall. Other than that, it's up to you."
Buffy was stunned into silence. It would be like her handing her diary to Spike and telling him to have fun, like trusting a piece of herself to someone else, one that she had never shown to another. He had put his heart into her hands. "I don't know that I'll read it, Spike," she said, "but I promise I'll keep it safe."
"Thanks," he said hoarsely. "'preciate it."
Buffy left him after that to go to bed, but the thin journal kept calling to her, egging on her curiosity until she couldn't stand it anymore. "Well, just the first part," she muttered. "Then that's it."
It didn't take two sentences to find out that Halfrek had been Cecily, or Cecily had been Halfrek, that part wasn't clear. She read of Drusilla's offer, of Angelus and Darla. And it didn't take the first paragraph to realize that she was hooked. She read until the first fingers of dawn lit the sky and she had finished the last sentence. There would be more, of course, and she'd read every one that he gave her. It wasn't so much that it explained who he had been; she'd been fairly clear on that. And she didn't like most of what she'd read, that was true enough. He'd been a vampire, and had done everything that went along with it. But what impressed her the most was that it wasn't who he was any longer. Maybe she hadn't seen it so clearly before, because the change had been so gradual. It was like seeing a friend you hadn't seen for a very long time and realizing that they'd lost weight, when those who had been there all along never noticed.
But the Spike who slept in her basement-and sometimes in her bed-was completely different from the Spike that first rose. And suddenly she found it didn't really matter why he had changed, only that he had. She stood and tucked the journal away deep in one of her drawers. Someday, maybe, she'd tell him that she'd read his words, and that they'd touched her, and in spite of herself, had transported her to another place and another time. She should tell him she could hardly wait for the sequel. One of these days anyway.
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