Et Lux In Tenebris Lucet (And the Light Shineth in the Darkness) by Enigmaticblue

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Chapter 6: Teen Woes

Buffy walked into something resembling a war zone. "Look, Dawn," she heard Spike's smoky voice grate out, "I get that you lost track of time, but you could have at least phoned. It's past eleven."

"You can't tell me what to do," Dawn replied. "You aren't my father. And the only reason Buffy lets you stay here is because she feels sorry for you."

The Slayer frowned. She didn't think she'd ever heard her younger sister speak that way to the vampire. It was downright cruel, and in the end, untrue. There were lots of reasons she let Spike stay, one of them being that he could usually keep a fairly tight rein on the youngest Summers. Apparently, that was changing. She stepped into the room to see Spike and Dawn nose to nose, all the closeness of the previous months disappearing into tension. "What's going on?"

Dawn looked over at her sister, a guilty look in her eyes. "I was with Janice at the Bronze. You told me I could go."

Buffy had, but she specifically remembered telling Dawn to be home before ten. "What time did you get home?"

Her question was met with frozen silence from her sister, and finally Spike said quietly, "She got home about five minutes ago."

"Like you would even notice," Dawn snarled at Buffy. "You're never home to care where I am anyway. You're not my mother, you can't make me do anything." With that, she pushed past Spike hard enough to rock him back, and he would have fallen if Buffy hadn't stepped in.

"Dawn!" she called out after the retreating figure, but Spike put a restraining hand on her arm.

"Forget it, Slayer," he said softly. "You're both hot tonight. Deal with it tomorrow when you've had time to cool off."

He was right, but still— "Spike, she could have knocked you over."

"She was trying to knock me over, luv," he replied, his eyes full of a sad wisdom. He had looked that way the night before they'd faced Glory, when he'd accepted the knowledge of his own unrequited love, when he'd told her she treated him like a man.

"Oh." Buffy wasn't sure what to say to him, how to soothe the wound that Dawn's callousness had caused.

"She's angry and hurting," he said softly. "If it helps her to be angry at me, it's alright."

'Spike-the-punching-bag,' Buffy thought sadly. "It's not okay for her to treat you that way," she replied. "After what you did for her—"

"Forget it, Buffy," he said, his voice harsh. "If she wants to apologize, I'll accept, but it won't mean anything to me if she doesn't choose it."

Buffy nodded. She understood. "Are you hungry? I was going to have a snack."

He looked away from her, his eyes shuttered. When he faced her again, he was calm, and no emotion marred his smooth, ageless features. "That would be nice, pet."

~~~~~

Halloween. Spike sighed. Best Halloween he'd ever spent was when that wanker Raines turned everyone into their costumes. That had been—neat. All that merry chaos, the screaming. Music to his ears, that had been. Now, of course, there was none of that, and he'd be out with the Slayer trying to clean up the mess if there were.

This time around, he found himself alone in the house, Buffy and Dawn having gone to help Giles and Anya in the Magic Box. He hadn't been asked, but that was fine with him. Last thing he wanted to do anyway was to wander about trying to sell things to the half-wits who could generally be found in the Watcher's shop. He came downstairs carefully, checking to make sure the curtains were closed. He supposed there'd be plenty of shoddy horror flicks on the telly today; hopefully one of them would put him to sleep since he couldn't seem to get comfortable in the bed upstairs.

Spike was awoken by voices. "Call it a celebration of date-setting," came Red's voice. "We really should have a party."

"Because parties usually turn out so well for us," Buffy muttered, and he was certain no one but a vampire would have caught it.

And there they all were, and Spike hurriedly pulled himself off of the couch, grateful that he'd fallen asleep with the braces on for once. "Spike," Willow said as she came into the room, her voice faltering slightly. None of them were quite sure what to do with him anymore.

"Hello all," he said. "Sorry, just catching a bit of a kip with the telly on." He had to get out of there, not liking the way they looked at him, all of them. Disgust disguised by pity. Dawn didn't look at him as he passed, heading to the kitchen, deciding he'd have his dinner and then head upstairs.

Spike fixed his blood in his usual mug, noticing with some sense of hurt that Buffy hadn't come after him as he'd half-hoped. Couldn't be too friendly in front of her mates though, could she? A hand touched his arm and he turned to see Tara looking at him with some concern. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.

"Fine, Glinda," he replied. "Be better once I've gotten something to eat. Feelin' a bit peckish, you know."

"You could stay," she offered. And then she watched as he ducked his head shyly and caught a glimpse of someone she would have liked to know.

"I'll just be in the way, pet," he said softly. "Better this way, you know."

"Spike?" Buffy's voice from the doorway. She came to stand next to him and pulled a package out her pocket. "Anya said she overstocked the burba weed. It was going to go bad."

He knew it was a blatant lie because burba didn't go bad when it was dried, but it was a nice thought, and it warmed him. "Thanks."

Buffy turned to Tara. "Willow whipped up some magical decorations. We should probably enjoy them before the clock strikes midnight. I said I'd get some snacks and drinks."

Spike wasn't sure Buffy saw the look that passed across the gentle witch's face, one of concern mixed with a bit of fear, but he had, and he could sense that it boded ill for her relationship with Willow. In fact, he could almost taste the tensions that swirled within the group. Two years ago, when they'd all left high school, it had been the same, and he'd used the fissures to his own advantage. Last year, they'd been united against the great threat that Glory presented. Now, he could feel the tensions swirling again, mixed in with their own insecurities and their blindness to the others' pain. He had a sudden sinking feeling that it was going to get bad, and that this time, all he would be able to do was to watch.

When the tension erupted again it was over Dawn, who'd gone off to spend some time at Janice's house. Even though she was supposed to be grounded, the Slayer had let her go, partly to avoid the whining, partly because it was Halloween. Besides, she would be at a friend's house with adult supervision. Spike knew what happened when you assumed better than anyone, and after Dawn's little display of a few nights ago, they should have been more suspicious. So when Janice's mom called and Spike answered, he wasn't too surprised by what she had to say, her voice shrill with worry.

And he was less surprised when Giles and Buffy went off with Xander and Anya and the witches, leaving him behind to mind the phone should the girl's mum call again. More than anything else, he hated this—this feeling of being completely useless. It brought to mind every cruel thing the Scoobies had ever said to him. That he was a thing, a creature, worthless, a waste of space. Before, he could comfort himself with his strength, remind himself that he would be needed to save the day once again, but not anymore. Now, what they had said was all true. And what held him to this place seemed to grow thinner with each passing day, as though he were becoming not-real. He found himself more and more ready to let go.

When they finally came back, Giles' face was badly bruised and both Xander and Anya were sporting scratches from the bushes they had been thrown into. Willow and Tara had returned about fifteen minutes before, the tension between them so thick he could taste it. Glinda had made a valiant attempt at conversation, and when she learned he'd been reading, they'd actually found something to talk about. Amazingly enough, he'd held a rather intellectual conversation, and he could feel that even Red was impressed. But he fell silent when Buffy returned with Dawn in tow.

The girl retreated to the dining room, a letterman's jacket in her arms. Buffy went to get some ice for Giles' face. "I could kill her," Buffy said quietly, Spike listening nearby. Giles winced as he held up the bag of ice.

"It was foolish in the extreme," Giles said. "You will have to talk to her, Buffy. If you don't stop this now, it will only spin out of control in the future."

"I can't talk to her tonight, Giles, I'm too angry." The Slayer's green eyes glittered. "What the hell am I supposed to do with her?"

"Buffy," Spike murmured. "Why don't you let me speak to her tonight? You can talk to her tomorrow when you're a bit calmer."

"I hardly think this is the time to go easy on the girl, Spike," Giles protested.

And the vampire's eyes glittered with a fire that had not been there for a very long time. "Who said anything about going easy on her?" he asked.

Spike swung himself into the dining room and awkwardly sat down next to her. "You want to tell me what happened?" he asked.

Slowly, she told him everything, and he wondered why he'd never seen it coming. "Do you understand why your sister and the Watcher are angry?"

"Because I lied to them," came her reply, the sullenness in her tone something Spike knew all too well. She was shaken up and angry, but more because she'd gotten caught than because she was sorry for what she'd done. "So you're going to tell me I shouldn't lie and that you're not angry, you're disappointed in me."

"No, this is where I tell you I'm pissed as hell," he replied, his eyes sparking blue fire. Dawn suddenly remembered why he was dangerous. "I'm not gonna tell you it's wrong to lie because I do it all the time. Don't have a conscience, remember? But I'll ask you, did you see Giles' face tonight?"

A guilty light began to steal into the girl's eyes. "I'm sorry he got hurt," she admitted.

"Yeah? Well, you ever think someone might have more than gotten hurt tonight?"

He watched as she swallowed hard, and knew she was getting the message. "I didn't want that, Spike. I just wanted to have fun." He stayed silent watching her, and she finally looked away. "You're mad because you were worried."

"Actions have consequences, Niblet," he replied, his voice deep and serious. "What do you think it would do to your sister or to the Watcher if you got killed or worse, turned? Or if someone else did?" When she still wouldn't look at him, he took strong fingers and tilted her head so that she was forced to look him in the eye. "You ever think what it would do to me if somethin' happened to you?"

And suddenly she was crying, and in his arms, and he knew she wouldn't do something quite so stupid again. There would be other things, of course, but she wouldn't intentionally put someone in danger. Not that this time had been intentional, but she'd think about it. When she'd gotten herself under control, she looked up at him through watery blue eyes. "I'm really sorry, Spike, for what I said the other night. And for trying to knock you down. It wasn't very nice."

"No, it wasn't," he acknowledged, because for a creature without a conscience, he did have a pretty good idea of right and wrong. "But I think I'll live."

She suddenly reached out and grabbed his hand. "I'm glad you're here." Then Dawn said hesitantly, "Do you think you could talk to Buffy for me? Tell her I'm really, really sorry?"

"I think that's something you should do yourself, Bit," he replied. "But you'll talk in the morning." He grabbed his crutches and stood, looking back at her over his shoulder. Buffy or the Watcher would have yelled, he knew. Told her that she'd been stupid and that she should know better. The problem with that approach was that she would have convinced herself they were being unreasonable within a few days. Now, he hoped, the lesson would stick just a bit better, since she realized for herself why they were so mad. Of course, she was also fifteen, which meant that lessons like this one had a tendency to fade as quickly as smoke in the wind. "I love you, Niblet. It would dust me if something ever happened to you. Remember that." And Spike swung himself off to the back porch, a lonely figure in the dim lamplight. It was that image that Dawn would remember long after his words had faded, reminding her that he had loved her enough to keep her safe at any cost. To a fifteen-year-old girl, that love seemed a heavy burden to bear.

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