Chapter Twelve
“Are you guys alright?” Dawn said as she walked into the room, followed by Lucas. Spike was sitting on the bed, smoke curling from the lit cigarette in his hand, his damp hair curling around his shoulders. Buffy knelt between his knees, carefully tending his wounds, a stark white bandage wrapped around her right bicep. When they had returned to the room, they had both stumbled to the shower, heedless of the bloody footprints they left in there wake. Shedding their clothes in the stall, Spike had held onto Buffy as she cried out the loss of yet another friend, the pounding water turning ghoulishly red as it swirled down the drain.
“We’re fine, bit. Something we can do for you, mate? Or did you just drop by to give her the money and wish us a nice life?” Spike snarled, sarcasm dripping from his clipped, British voice. Dawn sat down next to him on the bed, resting her head on his shoulder. Her sad eyes met her sister’s equally sad gaze.
“I just wanted to commend you on a job well done, Slayer.”
“DON’T. CALL. ME. THAT!!” Buffy interrupted, her words sharp and clear. Lucas didn’t even bat an eye at the menace in her voice.
“Ms. Summers, then. There will be a banquet this evening, where you will be presented with your prize. Then, tomorrow, you will be returned home.” He told them in a pleasant voice.
“Might I ask how much it was worth for me to kill one of my friends?” she asked, her eyes never leaving Spike’s chest. Lucas studied the young woman in front of him, a contemplative look on his face.
“Twenty five million dollars,” he answered, finally. Buffy’s eyes closed, briefly, her fingers clenching into fists. Spike and Dawn watched her, waiting for her to spring. When she opened them again, she stood, and turned to regard the man coolly.
“I don’t want his body dumped, like so much garbage. I think he has a sister, return him to her. As well as half the money, under an anonymous name. They deserve at least that.” She told him quietly, her expression brooking no argument. Lucas studied her for a moment, before nodding his head once.
“Very well. Will the young Miss Summers remain here?”
“Yes.” Spike growled, daring him to contradict.
“Then something appropriate shall be sent up for her to wear. And for you two, also. Until tonight.” Then Lucas turned, and left, the door shutting quietly behind him.
Buffy stood in front of the mirror, and wondered if she would ever be whole again. She had thought, once this stupid tournament was over, and Dawn was safe, that maybe she’d finally be able to live again. Not just exist from day to day. But, that was before Oz. Before she had been forced to face the repercussions of her decision seven years ago. And now she was responsible for another death. Would it ever stop?
“Pet. You can go over the shoulda, coulda, woulda’s until your mind turns to mush. It’s not going to change anything. It was either kill or be killed.” Spike said from his position on the bed. He’d been watching her mentally berate herself since Dawn went to go take a shower almost twenty minutes ago.
“It’s so easy for you.” She said quietly, her head down, her dark hair hiding her face.
“Yeah. I am just a soulless demon after all.” He wasn’t able to hide the sting of bitterness that shot through him. He’d thought they were past all this. Buffy sighed heavily, then turned to face him.
“That’s not what I meant,” she started, her eyes studying him intently. He was lying on his side, his head propped up on his fist, his hair unbound. He was wearing the pants and shirt of the tuxedo that had been sent up for him, both unbuttoned. The jacket and tie were thrown over the back of one of the chairs. Buffy was wearing a silk, cranberry colored, slip dress that barely skimmed the top of her knees. The strappy black sandals were sitting next to Spike’s boots on the floor.
“Then, what did you mean?” he asked carefully, lighting a cigarette. His blue eyes settled on her, and she sighed again at the trace of hurt she saw there.
“You see everything for what it is. Be it a situation, a person. An apocalypse.” Spike’s lips quirked at that. “You look at something, figure out the best course of action, and you just do it. Whatever the outcome, you know that you did what should have been done. Kill or be killed. One life compared to many. I wish I could see things so simply.” She explained, running a hand through her hair.
“It’s not who you are. Everything is black and white to you. Good, evil. Right, wrong. I see everything in a shade of grey. Makes me more objective. Could be the demon, or just regular common sense. I don’t know.” Spike stood, crushed out the half smoke cigarette, and walked to her. Pulling her into his strong embrace, he looked down at her. “Buffy, you did what you had to do. It doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. It doesn’t stop the world from turning, either. And it doesn’t stop me or Dawn from loving you. You have to realize that you can do nothing to change it. And even if there was a different course of action you could have taken, you made the decision that you had to at the time. You’re life is just as important as those that you were chosen to protect.” He ran his hand lightly down her arm, idly fingering the bandage he found there. “You can forgive yourself. You just have to let yourself do it.”
Buffy nodded, then wrapped her arm around his waist and resting her cheek against his silent chest. She knew he was right, had always had an uncanny ability at being right. She rubbed her cheek absently against his cool flesh, her skin coming into contact with the pedant he was wearing.
“You think they’ll let you keep this?” she asked, running her finger over the smooth stone.
“Oh, I’m keepin’ it. They’ll have to pull it out of my ashes to get it back. Seeing you in the sunlight is too beautiful a sight to give up.” he said, cupping her cheek.
“Then tuck it under her shirt. Maybe they’ll forget about it.” She suggested, feeling a little better. As long as he was with her, she could probably weather anything.
“You guys aren’t ready yet?” Dawn asked, coming out of the bathroom. She’d been done for a while, but she had been waiting for their conversation to turn less serious before she came out.
Buffy rested her forehead against Spike’s chest, chuckling.
“Been waitin’ for you to get out of the bloody bathroom, bit.” Spike mock growled, kissing the top of Buffy’s head and letting her go. “All my damn hair bands are in there.”
“I still can’t get over you with long hair. You look like one of those guys on the cover of a trashy romance.” Dawn giggled as he moved past her to the door. He turned and raised his scarred brow at her, then went into the bathroom.
“How do I look?” Dawn demanded, doing a spin in front of Buffy. The flared skirt of the black dress twirled prettily around the girls tanned legs. The strapless bodice was form fitting, accenting her slender body beautifully. Her dark, glossy hair hung free, framing her face. Diamond studs glittered in her ears.
“Stunning.” Buffy whispered, trying to remember if she’d ever been as young as Dawn seemed in that moment. Maybe, before she’d been called. But that was a long, long time ago.
“So are you. So, we’re going home tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
“What are we going to do with all that money?” Her dark eyes held the glitter of excitement at the thought. Rich. They were rich. No more of Buffy working long exhausting hours make sure Dawn had everything she needed. Dawn had tried once to get a job, to help. But Buffy had told her NO. She had to concentrate on her studies, there would be plenty of time later for the younger girl to get a job. And Buffy had wanted to make sure that it was a job that Dawn WANTED, not just one to put food on the table.
“WE aren’t doing anything with it. I’M putting it in the bank. At least graduate school is paid for.” Buffy told her, hoping she lived long enough to see Dawn graduate. Now that she had won the tournament, she’d have to come back. And if she wanted to keep Dawn safe, she’d keep coming back until t finally killed her.
“Come on. You’re not going to buy ONE ridiculous thing with it?” Dawn persisted. Buffy just shrugged as the bathroom door opened, and Spike emerged. His bright hair was pulled back, and all his buttons were buttoned. Sitting on the bed, he pulled on his boots. Buffy raised a brow at him.
“What?” he asked, noticing her expression. She just pointed at his boots. “It’s bad enough I got to where this penguin suit. I’m NOT wearing those Nancy boy shoes, too.” He said, standing and getting the bow tie. Holding it up, he looked over at the girls. “Either one of you birds know how to tie one of these?”