All About Spike - Misery by Illyria

Misery
By Illyria

Chapter Rating: PG13

Chapter Notes: Sorry for the Sunnydale-only chapter, but I realized that before I took the plunge into the heavy Spike and Anya interaction, I needed to show the mindsets the SD crew would be working under. Unless I go somewhere with the story way off my loose plan, this is the last California stuff for a good long while. Also... straw? Meet camel's back.

Chapter 4

"I am not my father."

"I am not my father."

"His words are not the truth."

"His words are not the truth."

"I can be better than what he tells me."

"I can be better than what he tells me."

"You have reached the end of side one. Please turn to side two."

That was it? He'd already plowed through half of the tape, and this was all they had him saying? Idiotic attempts at pop psychology, but then, that's probably what he deserved for choosing his therapy off the bargain table in Barnes & Noble. "How Not To Be Your Father." "How Not To Be Your Mother." "How To Be Your Own Best Friend."

He sighed and looked at his right hand. Maybe he should have picked up the last one, too.

Thoughts of Anya writhing naked beneath him sprang to mind. Wonder what she looked like in demon mode? Halfrek's terrifying visage was overlaid on that attractive face, and Xander shuddered. Even when they were humiliating him or trying to kill him, he could count on Cordelia and Faith to stay pretty.

The shape of her mouth when she came flooded his memories and Xander wanted to cry. Hadn't she been happy? She'd made money, she had lots of those precious orgasms, and she had a whole circle of friends ready-made to drop her into.

Action is his reward. Why don't you ever take my side?

He'd been right, all things said and done. Action was most definitely Spiderman's reward. He would have made Dawnie look bad if he hadn't said as much.

...So? Dawn was the kid sister of one of his best friends. Anya was the woman he'd asked to spend the rest of his life with. Why would it hurt to take her side now and then, just to show some couple solidarity?

The thought was so simple, so crystal clear, that it stunned him for a full minute. Bolt from the blue come to pierce the Zeppo's delusions. Why had this never crossed his mind before?

Don't you think you've had enough to drink? Shut up, you're ruining the joke.

I've been looking at sports, and I think Alex might like Little League. Don't be a moron, woman, he ain't got the backbone for it. Not like my side of the family.

I'm sorry, I didn't want to get sick, I don't have any days left to take off. So you leave me in bed alone, like a leper? I hope you do catch this, so you can see how fun it is.

How to not be your father. Right.

"Anya, I'm sorry." Good start. "I'm sorry that I didn't support you in front of my friends. I'm sorry that I left you at the altar." This was important, to know what you're apologizing for. The tape had said so, and cheap or not, it made sense. "I'm sorry that... you got hurt saving me from the bricks." Was that enough? It seemed like enough.

Would she come back to hear it, though? That was the kicker.

If she did, it was because she'd decided that what they'd had was worth working on. If she didn't, it was because she wasn't strong enough to want to turn back human. And if that was the case, then... good riddance.

He had his apology ready. She probably had hers prepared, too. All he had to do was wait.

* * * * *

What was wrong with her? Why did she still have those butterflies on her walls? She only felt like a child; a look in the mirror betrayed the truth. She'd spent time in an adult room this year, had it shown to her from every possible angle. That was what the rooms look like that grown-ups spend their time in, even if they were regressing more often than not. She'd blown up that room with incendiary grenades.

Looking in the mirror did more than show her a sixty year old in a co-ed body: it reflected those damn butterflies. Even when she got up and brushed her hair in an attempt at normalcy, she still wound up staring at the wall.

"Buffy?" A timid voice asked the question, one that wasn't sure what personality she'd hear in response.

She tried to look away from the reflection, but couldn't quite muster the energy to meet her sister's hopeful eyes. "Yeah?"

"I did my homework. The... the trig, and the history, and I found the articles for government. Willow had to help me with the trig, but now I think I get it." She was probably smiling hopefully, only to have the expression slip away a millimeter at a time when she didn't receive the same bright smile in response.

"That's great, Dawnie. It's good to do your homework."

"Yeah." Had she left, or was she standing there silently? "He's not really gone, you know."

Was that whiplash she felt as her head finally jerked around to aim at Dawn? "Of course he... who? No one's left that I care about." That wasn't even a lie, that was a kneejerk sneeze that came with words.

"He wouldn't go." Dawn smiled weakly, ducked her head, and fiddled with a cheap wire ring. Probably stolen, Buffy thought. Not even a mental sigh accompanied the realization. "He wouldn't really go without saying goodbye."

Oh, he wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to his precious Buffy? Was this innocence? She vaguely remembered it. Innocence only existed to be exploited, and she'd better burn it out of her sister while she could. Save her the lows she'd feel by not letting her think the highs were real. "People leave, Dawn. They leave because they can't carry through on promises. They leave because they're scared of reality. They leave because they're not strong enough to stick it out. They leave because they think it's for your own good. And they leave because when it comes down to it, you're just not worth their time."

Tears were spilling freely down Dawn's face. "He wouldn't really leave without telling me goodbye."

Buffy opened her mouth when she realized her error, but it fell closed as her shoulders slumped. She should explain the mistake, but she just couldn't care enough to bare her soul the needed amount. This is what the truth did to you. This is what having the feelings of a normal girl did to you.

"Of course he would. Dawn, I heard him call you Bitty Buffy. You know he was trying to get to me, and you're my sister."

The lie fell from her mouth without even trying. She stood there, stunned, then grabbed onto it like a life preserver in the middle of the Pacific.

"But he got to me, and so he didn't need to spend time with you any more."

Don't go to Spike's, Dawn. Stay away from Dawn, Spike. No! Out, damned truth! It was his idea to leave her sister lonely in the house as she watched whatever substitute for family Channel 4 decided to air. Not hers. Suddenly, her life preserver felt like a raft. The energy was returning to do this, but she wasn't sure from where. It felt different.

"You're so wrong. I heard you tell him to stay away, I heard you!" Would Willow come running up the stairs at Dawn's screams? Probably not, they were practically a nightly occurrence by now.

"Of course I did. I'd been forgetting what he is. And I knew that when I told him to stop, he'd be mad and try to hurt everyone. So I had to make sure everyone was staying away from him before that happened, so they'd know to look out."

"Because this isn't about you wanting to spend all your time with him. You're so full of shit, Buffy."

She should be angry with her sister for swearing. Yet she wasn't. Odd. "Of course I spent time with him, Dawn. I'm the Slayer. If he did something wrong, I'm the one who would deal with it."

"You used to be the Slayer. Now you're just a girl who needs serious therapy." She looked aside, still scrubbing at tears and snot. "And fifty pounds of prozac."

"I am the Slayer." The protective walls were coming up again, but harder than before. Firmer. Colder. "That's what I do." Made of ice.

"...Buffy?" Dawn asked as Buffy felt her face settle into a calm stillness. "Buffy, what now?"

She strode towards the door, face hard with purpose. Dawn recoiled in undisguised terror. Don't worry, little girl. The Slayer doesn't attack humans.

"Where are you going?" the girl who was her sister cried after her. "You're not going out to patrol, you're going to get killed! There's something wrong with you!"

"I'm not patrolling," Buffy said levelly. "I'm hunting." She'd forgotten the one person who was by her side so long as she lived, who'd been the one person to tell her the ultimate truth about her calling. We are alone. Tell it, sister.

I touch the fire and it freezes me.

Encased in ice, I finally feel it burn.

Continued in Chapter 5