Ten Years After Chapter 13
13 Jul 2005 10:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
curiouswombatReal life is very hectic at the moment. My manager has the following notice above her desk - and just at the moment it fits me fine:
I try to take each day one at a time, but just recently a number of them have ganged up and attacked me all at once!
However, between still doing battle with a recalcitrant decorator about getting the spare room finished before MiL arrives, trying to force antibiotics down the cat, getting things organised for the Sunday School Anniversary Sevice, and sorting out tickets for my trip to Skye, I have managed to complete the next Chapter of Ten Years after.
Previous chapters are all in memories Ten Years After, Previous Chapters
You can also find them via tags.
This chapter is definitely no more than a 13 - if that.
Usual disclaimer, re ownership of characters, as at end of last chapter!
Ten Years After, Chapter Thirteen, in which our heroine learns of scandal in the Paris of the Impressionists
Chapter Thirteen.
Spike was in the shower. Surveying the rather crumpled bed that they had just vacated, Dawn decided it would be a good idea to get him safely out of the room, and let the maid in. It was a damp, dull day; she decided that he was unlikely to burst into flames as long as he walked quickly past any windows.
She called to him “If we go down to breakfast the maid can come in. I reckon we can get there without you getting caught in bright sunlight.”
He emerged, a towel draped modestly around his hips, drying his hair, “You don’t mind them knowing I was here all night?” He sounded surprised.
“Course not. I don’t mind paying any extra if they ask; but I did pay room rate, so it should be alright.” Dawn answered.
“No, I mean, them knowing that I... that we were… you know!” He looked slightly worried.
“Aw, come on Spike, this is not the nineteenth century. They aren’t going to run off and call Giles who will dash over and challenge you to a duel for besmirching my reputation! Most of the reception staff kept looking at you and smirking, or smiling, or giving me the thumbs up whenever they catch my eye." She grinned and then went on, "They’re French – if I walk down looking slightly bandy and satisfied they’ll say to each other ‘Ah... lovers... Paris... etcetera!’”
Spike looked concerned, “Slightly bandy? I didn’t hurt you, pet, did I? Don’t always know my own strength.”
“No - you did not hurt me, crazy vampire! If you’d hurt me I’d have said ‘ouch’ instead of ‘ooh’! ‘Cos, you know, I can speak for myself, and if I’d wanted you to stop I would have said so. And trusted you to.
She paused to let that last sentence sink in, before continuing, "It was great, and you were great, and if there is nothing you particularly want to watch on daytime TV we can do it all again with interesting variations after I’ve eaten and got my strength back. Oh, and then I could take an interesting picture of us to send to Willow, because I’ve got a bet on with myself as to her exact words when she’d see it.”
Before he could say anything she finished the conversation with “And it’s a pity you can’t see yourself in the mirror, because you look totally cute with your hair all... well all spiky, and that rather bemused look on your face!”
……………………….
Dawn had been right; both that the route to breakfast did not pass any large windows and that no-one seemed to mind her guest joining her for coffee and croissants.
Spike stopped grumbling that he ‘didn’t do cute’, and made Dawn laugh, as they sat together at a small table, because his acute hearing, and excellent French, allowed him to repeat interesting tit-bits of the conversations around them.
Spike admitted that she was right; only person sounded shocked by his presence with Dawn at breakfast. That particular someone wondered why they were eating in the dining room rather than using room service, because if they’d managed to get ‘that hot blond’ into their bed they wouldn’t have left it so easily!
He laughed as he told her this and then pointed out the speaker – who was a waiter. The waitress he was talking to, Spike continued, said that he just didn’t understand women (Dawn spluttered), because any woman would flaunt such a conquest rather than hiding him away!
........................................
After breakfast they didn’t actually ‘do it all again with interesting variations’, instead they watched the news in English on the TV. The local weather forecast said that the heavy cloud and rain, which had now developed, would continue all day and, after a short discussion, Spike suggested that they leave the hotel under a large umbrella, and go by taxi to see the Impressionist collection at The Musee D’Orsay; one of the ‘rainy day’ things on Dawn's 'to do' list.
The museum was wonderful. Spike told Dawn wild and improbable stories, in an undertone, about some of the painters, or models, being vampires; or how, in their days as The Scourge of Europe, he and his companions had fed on this person, or could be seen in the background of that painting. It was probably a great deal less factual than the recorded guide; but much more fun.
Dawn was interested that Spike was now speaking of those times; as she understood it, when he had first been re-ensouled, his distress at recalling such things had made him vulnerable to The First. The intervening ten years seemed to have made him more comfortable with himself – more like the Spike she had known whilst her mother had been alive and just after; before Buffy’s death and resurrection; before the months when Buffy had suffered from what Dawn, now, recognised as Post Traumatic Shock.
‘Pity’, she thought, ‘that no-one recognised it at the time. Although she wouldn't have been able to go to any old counsellor and discuss what happened. Well, not without ending up in a secure psychiatric unit... Perhaps The Council should have counsellors as well as councillors; even if the exact situation isn’t all that likely to arise again something is bound to, and sometimes their Watcher might need counselling as much as the Slayer.’
She realised, with sudden clarity, that this was totally true of Giles at that time. She must talk to him about counsellors when she got home, not for him, but for the future. Better trained counsellors, too, than Buffy had ever been!
“Speak to me. You are still in there, aren’t you?” Spike’s voice broke into her train of thought and she shook herself.
“Sorry, I was miles away; having deep and watchery thoughts,” she answered.
Spike gave her a long and considered look, “Well, s’pose I’ll have to get used to it,” he said.
Then “Anyway, as I was saying, to keep herself so pale and interesting looking this model used to ‘donate’ a pint or two of blood to one of the locals quite regularly; when Angelus found out he set about doing a big seduction scene and volunteered to do the job for her. Silly bint let him – course he didn’t stop at a pint or two... but the records’ll tell you she died of consumption – 'cept that it was good old Angelus who did the consuming!”
……………………
After spending much of the day looking around the museum, Spike told Dawn he'd call a taxi, and then drop her off at her hotel; he was going home to his own flat.
“Need to change, and need to feed,” he explained.
“I could come with you,” she offered.
“No, not if you don’t mind, pet. Won’t be around later either. Got a business meeting.
"Have a nice day tomorrow and, if you want, we could do something really touristy tomorrow night – fancy dinner at the Folies Bergeres? I could pick you up about eight; you can get all dressed up and I can glare at Frenchmen, or more likely American tourists, who look at you too much... What do you think?”
What Dawn actually thought was ‘I am being kept just a bit at arms’ length here! I wonder whether the business meeting and the feeding are closely related? And if either, or both, relate to how much such a night out would cost? And I wonder if he said “feed” rather than “eat” to remind me “vampire here”?’
But what she said was “Sounds cool. Sure you don’t want to come shopping tomorrow and help me pick a stunning evening outfit?”
“Nah – surprise me!” Spike answered. “You sure you got enough funds, though? Wouldn’t be the first time I’d have given you something towards shopping!”
“I’m fine for money – I get pretty well paid, remember,” Dawn answered, thinking ‘and the money for a posh frock in Paris is a good bit more than either of us ever had back then!’
At least, she thought, the kiss as the taxi pulled up at the hotel was long and pretty lingering; or she might have begun to think that she’d imagined last night.
………………………….
As she was on her own she decided to spend her evening gainfully employed writing a report, for the Council records, on the dusting of Drusilla.
She realised that Spike’s long, cool, stare in the museum was equivalent to her own thought, of some evenings before, that ‘you can take the vampire out of the nineteenth century – but you can’t completely take the nineteenth century out of the vampire’. Here she was, on vacation, writing a report because it needed to be on file; so ‘you can take the girl out of the Council building, but you can’t take the Council out of the girl...’ or something!
She couldn’t bring herself to include Spike’s description of the silk, the roses, and the sex in her report for people to pore over.. His determination to find Drusilla, so that he could end her vampiric existence, she described clearly though. She didn’t want someone, at some time in the future, to put it down to a vampiric lovers tiff or power struggle; Spike should get proper credit for doing what he thought was right.
It was, she thought, what differentiated between him and other vampires – his ability to tell right from wrong because he had a soul.
Then she realised that, although she could write that in the report and no-one at the Council would disagree, it really wasn’t that black and white.
Perhaps his own description of his unchipped, unsouled, vampire years was a better approximation to the truth; being like a totally delinquent teenager, creating chaos for fun with no guilt, no care for anyone outside his vampire family. Even the most psychopathic teenage youths vaguely understand right and wrong – they just don’t see that it applies to them.
The Spike she had been reminded of in the museum, the Spike of her early teens (both 'remembered' and known), had been well aware that some of the things he had done were ‘wrong’; he just hadn’t felt particularly ‘bad’ about them. Although he had been capable of doing ‘good’ without a soul as well... and not always just for what it could get him. She wondered if that was true of other vampires, too.
Perhaps, sometime, he would be willing to talk properly about what it really felt like to be a vampire. Nowhere on the records, over all these years, was there really a 'vampire’s eye’s view' of things. If anyone ever did give them an interview with a vampire it would be Spike. But, Dawn decided, it would be better left for a while – asking him to do anything for the Council was unlikely to be met with wild enthusiasm!
……………………………
Dawn was about to climb into her bed, thinking that she wished Spike was with her - but at least she would probably get more sleep, when she received a text from Willow asking was she alone and could she talk?
Making herself comfortable, she rang Willow, hoping it wasn’t anything urgent. It wasn’t; Willow just wanted a chat, and it occurred to Dawn, not for the first time, that in some ways she had replaced Buffy for Willow. The old Buffy/Willow friendship would never die, but nowadays Buffy didn’t know half the people in Willow’s life and Willow didn’t know half the people in Buffy’s.
When it came to ‘girl-talk’ it was Dawn that Willow talked to and, often, vice versa – they knew each other’s history and life well enough not to have to explain things, or avoid mentioning things. Dawn knew that, soon, her ‘girl-friends’ from university would have to be dropped before they noticed her lack of ageing; she would be down to Willow and her other friends who worked for the Council. Even Willow would be gone eventually. Even Willow would probably stop having ‘girl-talks’ once she became middle-aged and Dawn didn’t. The thought made Dawn sad.
It was probably a good thing that she was not able to linger on it because Willow wanted to know how her river trip with Spike had gone, and did Dawn think that Spike might fancy her – had he kissed her yet?
Dawn hesitated slightly, but she really wanted to share the last twenty-four hours with someone.
She told Willow about the boat-trip, the way the barman and waiter had left her and Spike romantically alone, the gentle flirtage that had gone both ways. Then she told Willow everything Spike had told her about Drusilla; not just the version in the report, but the whole black gown, silk sheets, sex and roses version.
“Wow! Romantic much? And he did all that for her and then staked her? It’s very Spike, that dogged determination to do something, and really,/i> poetic!” Willow cut in, at the ‘staked her’ bit. “Of course you’ll have to write a report for the records when you come home. Was Spike upset about it?”
‘Way to go, Willow,’ Dawn thought, ‘straight to the heart of the thing.’
“He said that he sat on the bed, with Drusilla’s dust swirling above his head, and he bawled his eyes out,” she said out loud.
“Oh, poor Spike,” Willow exclaimed, “Sometimes he could be – can be – such a softy for a vampire! Although, actually, I meant was he upset when he told you?”
‘Bummer. Not going to be distracted then,’ Dawn thought.
“He sat and cried like a baby," she said. "Well actually that’s not really true – he sat and cried like a vampire – he was so upset he ended up vamped out, and he cried and cried, and I rocked him to sleep.”
“Poor Spike!” Willow said again, “And poor Dawnie. No smoochies after that I guess.”
“That’s the thing, Wills. We both woke up in the middle of the night, and we were together on the one bed, and it felt nice, and I told Spike to take his things off so that they wouldn’t get crumpled; but I didn’t want him to be alone, not even just in the other bed, in case he had nightmares. And I thought if he went I might have nightmares about Drusilla, and…” was Dawn’s slightly incoherent reply.
“Yay! go you guys – so smoochies occurred? And more than smoochies?” Willow cut in.
“More than smoochies. And it was lovely, and I really enjoyed it. And so did Spike. I worried that he might go all ‘shouldn’t have done that’ on me this morning, but he didn’t. He made a point of telling me it wasn’t to do with Drusilla or anyone else, naming no names, but was just to do with me, and I felt really happy,” Dawn said, in a voice that didn’t sound quite as happy as it should, considering what she’d just said.
“So where is he now?” Willow asked, getting to the heart of the matter again with unerring accuracy.
“Somewhere. I don’t know. We spent the day at the Musee d’Orsay but then he said he had a business meeting, and he needed to feed, and he’d take me out tomorrow night. Basically he reminded me, not in so many words, that he has his own life to lead,” Dawn answered, and then, brightening again, “which is quite right, now I think of it. He’s his own person, or vampire, whatever. I just... I sort of expected him to want to be all with the boinking, you know, like they say about vampires!”
“Well I guess he’s not your average vampire, Dawnie. I mean, if he was, I would be making with the magic to get over there with my trusty stake before it got to suckage! Just don’t go breaking your heart over him,” Willow said, becoming a little more serious.
“I won’t. But the smoochies and so on were fun, and so I hope he’s not going to go all ‘lets just be friends’ on me.” Dawn paused. “Anyway, how are you and Mhairi getting on?”
“Really well; we’ve got the spells sorted out to help Giles concentrate properly, although it takes a balance between the two of us and it only works whilst we maintain it; so, as long as we aren’t actively holding them at bay, all your cloaking spells just fall back into place. We’ve figured it so that it only lifts them in our vicinity, not yours, so there's no chance of any other magic user, or whatever, getting wind of anything by accident. With the Council building being so well shielded, and everything, Giles and I are both happy that he can work without putting you at any risk, and…” This time it was Willow who was halted in her flow of explanation by Dawn.
“Well done you! But, actually, I meant more how are things between you and Mhairi? I know you, Will; I know when someone catches your eye, and I want all the juicy bits! Is she gay? Is she not gay but open to suggestion? Or are you going to have to spend ages maintaining a balance with her, and wanting to get round to your own smoochies, but being all frustrated?” Dawn asked, laughingly.
“We’re cool. I don’t know if she’s gay or bi, we haven’t exactly talked about it, but I’m kinda sure she’s not totally het like you. The vibes help with the balance – one reason I asked for her help; and the vibes are good. Hey – you and me can swap notes when you get home – hopefully we’ll both be relaxed and all with the warm fuzzy feelings!"
She went on, “Good sex helps with the magic. Least it helps the spell-casters – don’t know whether it’s really necessary for the subject, although I’m guessing that Giles isn’t exactly past it, so him and Olivia…” Willow was cut off in mid-flow again.
“I don’t want to go there! I know they do, but I don’t like to think about it!” Dawn yelped.
“M'kay, well... as we’re going to be concentrating more on you soon, we can just work on the premise that you having good sex will help the magic, we should tell Spike to keep you happy to help with the research...” Willow suggested.
“Willow! I am so not going to ask Spike to shag me senseless to help you help Giles with his research!” Dawn yelled down the phone.
After both young women recovered from the ensuing giggles the conversation changed course, but continued for some time. Dawn admitted that she’d already written a report on Drusilla for Council records, and then repeated some of the things Spike had told her in the Musee d’Orsay about the artists and models, much to Willow’s amusement.
As she finished the call, her phone indicated that she had another text waiting.
She opened it and then smiled, happily, at the message: Sleep well pet. S.
Next chapter is here.
I try to take each day one at a time, but just recently a number of them have ganged up and attacked me all at once!
However, between still doing battle with a recalcitrant decorator about getting the spare room finished before MiL arrives, trying to force antibiotics down the cat, getting things organised for the Sunday School Anniversary Sevice, and sorting out tickets for my trip to Skye, I have managed to complete the next Chapter of Ten Years after.
Previous chapters are all in memories Ten Years After, Previous Chapters
You can also find them via tags.
This chapter is definitely no more than a 13 - if that.
Usual disclaimer, re ownership of characters, as at end of last chapter!
Ten Years After, Chapter Thirteen, in which our heroine learns of scandal in the Paris of the Impressionists
Chapter Thirteen.
Spike was in the shower. Surveying the rather crumpled bed that they had just vacated, Dawn decided it would be a good idea to get him safely out of the room, and let the maid in. It was a damp, dull day; she decided that he was unlikely to burst into flames as long as he walked quickly past any windows.
She called to him “If we go down to breakfast the maid can come in. I reckon we can get there without you getting caught in bright sunlight.”
He emerged, a towel draped modestly around his hips, drying his hair, “You don’t mind them knowing I was here all night?” He sounded surprised.
“Course not. I don’t mind paying any extra if they ask; but I did pay room rate, so it should be alright.” Dawn answered.
“No, I mean, them knowing that I... that we were… you know!” He looked slightly worried.
“Aw, come on Spike, this is not the nineteenth century. They aren’t going to run off and call Giles who will dash over and challenge you to a duel for besmirching my reputation! Most of the reception staff kept looking at you and smirking, or smiling, or giving me the thumbs up whenever they catch my eye." She grinned and then went on, "They’re French – if I walk down looking slightly bandy and satisfied they’ll say to each other ‘Ah... lovers... Paris... etcetera!’”
Spike looked concerned, “Slightly bandy? I didn’t hurt you, pet, did I? Don’t always know my own strength.”
“No - you did not hurt me, crazy vampire! If you’d hurt me I’d have said ‘ouch’ instead of ‘ooh’! ‘Cos, you know, I can speak for myself, and if I’d wanted you to stop I would have said so. And trusted you to.
She paused to let that last sentence sink in, before continuing, "It was great, and you were great, and if there is nothing you particularly want to watch on daytime TV we can do it all again with interesting variations after I’ve eaten and got my strength back. Oh, and then I could take an interesting picture of us to send to Willow, because I’ve got a bet on with myself as to her exact words when she’d see it.”
Before he could say anything she finished the conversation with “And it’s a pity you can’t see yourself in the mirror, because you look totally cute with your hair all... well all spiky, and that rather bemused look on your face!”
……………………….
Dawn had been right; both that the route to breakfast did not pass any large windows and that no-one seemed to mind her guest joining her for coffee and croissants.
Spike stopped grumbling that he ‘didn’t do cute’, and made Dawn laugh, as they sat together at a small table, because his acute hearing, and excellent French, allowed him to repeat interesting tit-bits of the conversations around them.
Spike admitted that she was right; only person sounded shocked by his presence with Dawn at breakfast. That particular someone wondered why they were eating in the dining room rather than using room service, because if they’d managed to get ‘that hot blond’ into their bed they wouldn’t have left it so easily!
He laughed as he told her this and then pointed out the speaker – who was a waiter. The waitress he was talking to, Spike continued, said that he just didn’t understand women (Dawn spluttered), because any woman would flaunt such a conquest rather than hiding him away!
........................................
After breakfast they didn’t actually ‘do it all again with interesting variations’, instead they watched the news in English on the TV. The local weather forecast said that the heavy cloud and rain, which had now developed, would continue all day and, after a short discussion, Spike suggested that they leave the hotel under a large umbrella, and go by taxi to see the Impressionist collection at The Musee D’Orsay; one of the ‘rainy day’ things on Dawn's 'to do' list.
The museum was wonderful. Spike told Dawn wild and improbable stories, in an undertone, about some of the painters, or models, being vampires; or how, in their days as The Scourge of Europe, he and his companions had fed on this person, or could be seen in the background of that painting. It was probably a great deal less factual than the recorded guide; but much more fun.
Dawn was interested that Spike was now speaking of those times; as she understood it, when he had first been re-ensouled, his distress at recalling such things had made him vulnerable to The First. The intervening ten years seemed to have made him more comfortable with himself – more like the Spike she had known whilst her mother had been alive and just after; before Buffy’s death and resurrection; before the months when Buffy had suffered from what Dawn, now, recognised as Post Traumatic Shock.
‘Pity’, she thought, ‘that no-one recognised it at the time. Although she wouldn't have been able to go to any old counsellor and discuss what happened. Well, not without ending up in a secure psychiatric unit... Perhaps The Council should have counsellors as well as councillors; even if the exact situation isn’t all that likely to arise again something is bound to, and sometimes their Watcher might need counselling as much as the Slayer.’
She realised, with sudden clarity, that this was totally true of Giles at that time. She must talk to him about counsellors when she got home, not for him, but for the future. Better trained counsellors, too, than Buffy had ever been!
“Speak to me. You are still in there, aren’t you?” Spike’s voice broke into her train of thought and she shook herself.
“Sorry, I was miles away; having deep and watchery thoughts,” she answered.
Spike gave her a long and considered look, “Well, s’pose I’ll have to get used to it,” he said.
Then “Anyway, as I was saying, to keep herself so pale and interesting looking this model used to ‘donate’ a pint or two of blood to one of the locals quite regularly; when Angelus found out he set about doing a big seduction scene and volunteered to do the job for her. Silly bint let him – course he didn’t stop at a pint or two... but the records’ll tell you she died of consumption – 'cept that it was good old Angelus who did the consuming!”
……………………
After spending much of the day looking around the museum, Spike told Dawn he'd call a taxi, and then drop her off at her hotel; he was going home to his own flat.
“Need to change, and need to feed,” he explained.
“I could come with you,” she offered.
“No, not if you don’t mind, pet. Won’t be around later either. Got a business meeting.
"Have a nice day tomorrow and, if you want, we could do something really touristy tomorrow night – fancy dinner at the Folies Bergeres? I could pick you up about eight; you can get all dressed up and I can glare at Frenchmen, or more likely American tourists, who look at you too much... What do you think?”
What Dawn actually thought was ‘I am being kept just a bit at arms’ length here! I wonder whether the business meeting and the feeding are closely related? And if either, or both, relate to how much such a night out would cost? And I wonder if he said “feed” rather than “eat” to remind me “vampire here”?’
But what she said was “Sounds cool. Sure you don’t want to come shopping tomorrow and help me pick a stunning evening outfit?”
“Nah – surprise me!” Spike answered. “You sure you got enough funds, though? Wouldn’t be the first time I’d have given you something towards shopping!”
“I’m fine for money – I get pretty well paid, remember,” Dawn answered, thinking ‘and the money for a posh frock in Paris is a good bit more than either of us ever had back then!’
At least, she thought, the kiss as the taxi pulled up at the hotel was long and pretty lingering; or she might have begun to think that she’d imagined last night.
………………………….
As she was on her own she decided to spend her evening gainfully employed writing a report, for the Council records, on the dusting of Drusilla.
She realised that Spike’s long, cool, stare in the museum was equivalent to her own thought, of some evenings before, that ‘you can take the vampire out of the nineteenth century – but you can’t completely take the nineteenth century out of the vampire’. Here she was, on vacation, writing a report because it needed to be on file; so ‘you can take the girl out of the Council building, but you can’t take the Council out of the girl...’ or something!
She couldn’t bring herself to include Spike’s description of the silk, the roses, and the sex in her report for people to pore over.. His determination to find Drusilla, so that he could end her vampiric existence, she described clearly though. She didn’t want someone, at some time in the future, to put it down to a vampiric lovers tiff or power struggle; Spike should get proper credit for doing what he thought was right.
It was, she thought, what differentiated between him and other vampires – his ability to tell right from wrong because he had a soul.
Then she realised that, although she could write that in the report and no-one at the Council would disagree, it really wasn’t that black and white.
Perhaps his own description of his unchipped, unsouled, vampire years was a better approximation to the truth; being like a totally delinquent teenager, creating chaos for fun with no guilt, no care for anyone outside his vampire family. Even the most psychopathic teenage youths vaguely understand right and wrong – they just don’t see that it applies to them.
The Spike she had been reminded of in the museum, the Spike of her early teens (both 'remembered' and known), had been well aware that some of the things he had done were ‘wrong’; he just hadn’t felt particularly ‘bad’ about them. Although he had been capable of doing ‘good’ without a soul as well... and not always just for what it could get him. She wondered if that was true of other vampires, too.
Perhaps, sometime, he would be willing to talk properly about what it really felt like to be a vampire. Nowhere on the records, over all these years, was there really a 'vampire’s eye’s view' of things. If anyone ever did give them an interview with a vampire it would be Spike. But, Dawn decided, it would be better left for a while – asking him to do anything for the Council was unlikely to be met with wild enthusiasm!
……………………………
Dawn was about to climb into her bed, thinking that she wished Spike was with her - but at least she would probably get more sleep, when she received a text from Willow asking was she alone and could she talk?
Making herself comfortable, she rang Willow, hoping it wasn’t anything urgent. It wasn’t; Willow just wanted a chat, and it occurred to Dawn, not for the first time, that in some ways she had replaced Buffy for Willow. The old Buffy/Willow friendship would never die, but nowadays Buffy didn’t know half the people in Willow’s life and Willow didn’t know half the people in Buffy’s.
When it came to ‘girl-talk’ it was Dawn that Willow talked to and, often, vice versa – they knew each other’s history and life well enough not to have to explain things, or avoid mentioning things. Dawn knew that, soon, her ‘girl-friends’ from university would have to be dropped before they noticed her lack of ageing; she would be down to Willow and her other friends who worked for the Council. Even Willow would be gone eventually. Even Willow would probably stop having ‘girl-talks’ once she became middle-aged and Dawn didn’t. The thought made Dawn sad.
It was probably a good thing that she was not able to linger on it because Willow wanted to know how her river trip with Spike had gone, and did Dawn think that Spike might fancy her – had he kissed her yet?
Dawn hesitated slightly, but she really wanted to share the last twenty-four hours with someone.
She told Willow about the boat-trip, the way the barman and waiter had left her and Spike romantically alone, the gentle flirtage that had gone both ways. Then she told Willow everything Spike had told her about Drusilla; not just the version in the report, but the whole black gown, silk sheets, sex and roses version.
“Wow! Romantic much? And he did all that for her and then staked her? It’s very Spike, that dogged determination to do something, and really,/i> poetic!” Willow cut in, at the ‘staked her’ bit. “Of course you’ll have to write a report for the records when you come home. Was Spike upset about it?”
‘Way to go, Willow,’ Dawn thought, ‘straight to the heart of the thing.’
“He said that he sat on the bed, with Drusilla’s dust swirling above his head, and he bawled his eyes out,” she said out loud.
“Oh, poor Spike,” Willow exclaimed, “Sometimes he could be – can be – such a softy for a vampire! Although, actually, I meant was he upset when he told you?”
‘Bummer. Not going to be distracted then,’ Dawn thought.
“He sat and cried like a baby," she said. "Well actually that’s not really true – he sat and cried like a vampire – he was so upset he ended up vamped out, and he cried and cried, and I rocked him to sleep.”
“Poor Spike!” Willow said again, “And poor Dawnie. No smoochies after that I guess.”
“That’s the thing, Wills. We both woke up in the middle of the night, and we were together on the one bed, and it felt nice, and I told Spike to take his things off so that they wouldn’t get crumpled; but I didn’t want him to be alone, not even just in the other bed, in case he had nightmares. And I thought if he went I might have nightmares about Drusilla, and…” was Dawn’s slightly incoherent reply.
“Yay! go you guys – so smoochies occurred? And more than smoochies?” Willow cut in.
“More than smoochies. And it was lovely, and I really enjoyed it. And so did Spike. I worried that he might go all ‘shouldn’t have done that’ on me this morning, but he didn’t. He made a point of telling me it wasn’t to do with Drusilla or anyone else, naming no names, but was just to do with me, and I felt really happy,” Dawn said, in a voice that didn’t sound quite as happy as it should, considering what she’d just said.
“So where is he now?” Willow asked, getting to the heart of the matter again with unerring accuracy.
“Somewhere. I don’t know. We spent the day at the Musee d’Orsay but then he said he had a business meeting, and he needed to feed, and he’d take me out tomorrow night. Basically he reminded me, not in so many words, that he has his own life to lead,” Dawn answered, and then, brightening again, “which is quite right, now I think of it. He’s his own person, or vampire, whatever. I just... I sort of expected him to want to be all with the boinking, you know, like they say about vampires!”
“Well I guess he’s not your average vampire, Dawnie. I mean, if he was, I would be making with the magic to get over there with my trusty stake before it got to suckage! Just don’t go breaking your heart over him,” Willow said, becoming a little more serious.
“I won’t. But the smoochies and so on were fun, and so I hope he’s not going to go all ‘lets just be friends’ on me.” Dawn paused. “Anyway, how are you and Mhairi getting on?”
“Really well; we’ve got the spells sorted out to help Giles concentrate properly, although it takes a balance between the two of us and it only works whilst we maintain it; so, as long as we aren’t actively holding them at bay, all your cloaking spells just fall back into place. We’ve figured it so that it only lifts them in our vicinity, not yours, so there's no chance of any other magic user, or whatever, getting wind of anything by accident. With the Council building being so well shielded, and everything, Giles and I are both happy that he can work without putting you at any risk, and…” This time it was Willow who was halted in her flow of explanation by Dawn.
“Well done you! But, actually, I meant more how are things between you and Mhairi? I know you, Will; I know when someone catches your eye, and I want all the juicy bits! Is she gay? Is she not gay but open to suggestion? Or are you going to have to spend ages maintaining a balance with her, and wanting to get round to your own smoochies, but being all frustrated?” Dawn asked, laughingly.
“We’re cool. I don’t know if she’s gay or bi, we haven’t exactly talked about it, but I’m kinda sure she’s not totally het like you. The vibes help with the balance – one reason I asked for her help; and the vibes are good. Hey – you and me can swap notes when you get home – hopefully we’ll both be relaxed and all with the warm fuzzy feelings!"
She went on, “Good sex helps with the magic. Least it helps the spell-casters – don’t know whether it’s really necessary for the subject, although I’m guessing that Giles isn’t exactly past it, so him and Olivia…” Willow was cut off in mid-flow again.
“I don’t want to go there! I know they do, but I don’t like to think about it!” Dawn yelped.
“M'kay, well... as we’re going to be concentrating more on you soon, we can just work on the premise that you having good sex will help the magic, we should tell Spike to keep you happy to help with the research...” Willow suggested.
“Willow! I am so not going to ask Spike to shag me senseless to help you help Giles with his research!” Dawn yelled down the phone.
After both young women recovered from the ensuing giggles the conversation changed course, but continued for some time. Dawn admitted that she’d already written a report on Drusilla for Council records, and then repeated some of the things Spike had told her in the Musee d’Orsay about the artists and models, much to Willow’s amusement.
As she finished the call, her phone indicated that she had another text waiting.
She opened it and then smiled, happily, at the message: Sleep well pet. S.
Next chapter is here.
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Date: 14/07/2005 07:36 am (UTC)I am about to go and try to stuff the cat into his carrier to take him to the vet for his dental extractions - it's amazing how well a cat can spread itself out so that it is bigger than the door of the carrier!