Stairs (1/1)
Title: Stairs
Pairing: Spike & Dawn friendship
Rating: PG
Summary: Some things you just can't hide.
Word Count: 896
It took a while to pry him away from the party, what with him drooling all over Buffy and practically fanging out every time that Richard guy opened his mouth, but she finally managed to get a minute alone with Spike in the kitchen as he rooted around in the refrigerator for more beer.
“So, what happened to your face?” she asked, her best attempt at casual, while she poured herself more soda at the counter.
Spike popped his head out from behind the door, his eyes wide with surprise. Well, one eye was wide. The other one looked like it was still swollen partway shut. “I, uh…” He snuck a telltale glance toward the living room. “Fell down some stairs.” When Dawn gave him a dubious look, he added dryly, “Big stairs.”
“Is that why you haven’t been around much lately? Too many run-ins with… stairs?”
His expression turned sheepish at that. At least someone had the decency to feel guilty about ignoring her. “No, it’s just that, well, I’ve been…”
“It’s okay,” Dawn sighed, turning her back on him as she swirled the soda around in her paper cup. “You’re too busy. Just like everybody else.”
At that, he shut the refrigerator door and came over, reaching across the island to take the cup out of her hands. Leaning forward with his forearms on the counter, he looked her in the eye and said, “Never too busy for you, bit. Didn’t think big sis would approve, is all.”
She studied him carefully. “You’re afraid of her.”
“Am not,” Spike scoffed.
“Are too.”
“Bollocks,” he replied, his standard fallback to avoid getting sucked into an argument. They’d had a lot of those during the long summer months, most of which Dawn had won, thanks to sheer endurance. Once he’d caught on, though, it took all the fun out of it.
Dawn reached across the counter for her soda and began swirling it again. After a moment, she asked, “Why’d she hit you?”
This time, he didn’t try to make eye contact. “What are you talkin’ about?”
“Your face. She did that.”
“I told you, I fell down some -”
“Stairs, yeah. Like that’s not the worst lie ever. You could’ve just said a demon beat you up.”
“Maybe it was a demon,” Spike retorted. “And I’m just too embarrassed to admit that William the Bloody met his match.”
“It was Buffy.”
He sighed, twisting the ring on his index finger. “Yeah, it was Buffy.”
When she didn’t say anything right away, he shoved off the island and ambled back to the refrigerator for the beer he’d seemed to have forgotten. The cap bounced a couple times before coming to rest in front of her, followed by the bottle as Spike plunked it down on the counter. She watched the condensation form on the glass, and then drip down the sides, leaving a circular puddle on the plastic tablecloth every time he lifted the bottle to his lips.
“You’re lame,” she said finally.
Spike’s head jerked up. “What?”
“You’re so lame,” she repeated. “My sister beat you up, and you still came to her birthday party?”
“Well, I didn’t bring a present.”
“Laaame.”
He shook his head, taking a swig from his beer before he responded. “You wouldn’t understand, pet. But we’re all right, me and her. I let her do it.”
The soda went down the wrong pipe, and she started coughing and spluttering. Her throat burning, she stared at him. “You let her beat you up? Are you lame and stupid?”
Letting out another sigh, more exasperated this time, he said, “Dunno how to explain it to you. Buffy - she had some issues needed working out.”
Dawn gave him a “duh” look. When didn’t Buffy have issues? “Mom always used to say violence isn’t the answer,” she retorted. After years of practice - even if they were fake years - she could do bratty little sister like no other.
Spike’s mouth curved into a faint smile. “Your mum was a smart lady, and you should listen to her. But it’s - different for vampires, you know? Slayers, too. Violence is what they do. What they need, sometimes. You get to feeling like you just have to - let it out.”
“By hitting people.”
“Yeah. I mean, no. I mean… sometimes.”
“So, you’re saying sometimes you can solve your problems with violence?” She kinda thought she knew what Spike was trying to say, but his obvious discomfort with the after-school specialness of the conversation was just too good to let slide.
He shrugged. “I’m a vampire. I solve all my problems with violence. But, uh, you shouldn’t do that,” he backtracked quickly, “because you’re a good girl, and I’m evil, and you shouldn’t listen to anything I say.”
She bit her lip to keep herself from giggling. “You really suck at this. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Spike grumbled, giving her a light shove in the direction of the door. “Go on back to the party, now. They’ll be missing you.”
Abandoning her empty cup on the counter for someone else to clean up, she started to leave the kitchen, but stopped in the doorway and turned back to him. “It’s because you love her, isn’t it?”
Spike looked at her for a long moment. “Yeah, it is.”
She rolled her eyes. “People do stupid things for love.”
Pairing: Spike & Dawn friendship
Rating: PG
Summary: Some things you just can't hide.
Word Count: 896
It took a while to pry him away from the party, what with him drooling all over Buffy and practically fanging out every time that Richard guy opened his mouth, but she finally managed to get a minute alone with Spike in the kitchen as he rooted around in the refrigerator for more beer.
“So, what happened to your face?” she asked, her best attempt at casual, while she poured herself more soda at the counter.
Spike popped his head out from behind the door, his eyes wide with surprise. Well, one eye was wide. The other one looked like it was still swollen partway shut. “I, uh…” He snuck a telltale glance toward the living room. “Fell down some stairs.” When Dawn gave him a dubious look, he added dryly, “Big stairs.”
“Is that why you haven’t been around much lately? Too many run-ins with… stairs?”
His expression turned sheepish at that. At least someone had the decency to feel guilty about ignoring her. “No, it’s just that, well, I’ve been…”
“It’s okay,” Dawn sighed, turning her back on him as she swirled the soda around in her paper cup. “You’re too busy. Just like everybody else.”
At that, he shut the refrigerator door and came over, reaching across the island to take the cup out of her hands. Leaning forward with his forearms on the counter, he looked her in the eye and said, “Never too busy for you, bit. Didn’t think big sis would approve, is all.”
She studied him carefully. “You’re afraid of her.”
“Am not,” Spike scoffed.
“Are too.”
“Bollocks,” he replied, his standard fallback to avoid getting sucked into an argument. They’d had a lot of those during the long summer months, most of which Dawn had won, thanks to sheer endurance. Once he’d caught on, though, it took all the fun out of it.
Dawn reached across the counter for her soda and began swirling it again. After a moment, she asked, “Why’d she hit you?”
This time, he didn’t try to make eye contact. “What are you talkin’ about?”
“Your face. She did that.”
“I told you, I fell down some -”
“Stairs, yeah. Like that’s not the worst lie ever. You could’ve just said a demon beat you up.”
“Maybe it was a demon,” Spike retorted. “And I’m just too embarrassed to admit that William the Bloody met his match.”
“It was Buffy.”
He sighed, twisting the ring on his index finger. “Yeah, it was Buffy.”
When she didn’t say anything right away, he shoved off the island and ambled back to the refrigerator for the beer he’d seemed to have forgotten. The cap bounced a couple times before coming to rest in front of her, followed by the bottle as Spike plunked it down on the counter. She watched the condensation form on the glass, and then drip down the sides, leaving a circular puddle on the plastic tablecloth every time he lifted the bottle to his lips.
“You’re lame,” she said finally.
Spike’s head jerked up. “What?”
“You’re so lame,” she repeated. “My sister beat you up, and you still came to her birthday party?”
“Well, I didn’t bring a present.”
“Laaame.”
He shook his head, taking a swig from his beer before he responded. “You wouldn’t understand, pet. But we’re all right, me and her. I let her do it.”
The soda went down the wrong pipe, and she started coughing and spluttering. Her throat burning, she stared at him. “You let her beat you up? Are you lame and stupid?”
Letting out another sigh, more exasperated this time, he said, “Dunno how to explain it to you. Buffy - she had some issues needed working out.”
Dawn gave him a “duh” look. When didn’t Buffy have issues? “Mom always used to say violence isn’t the answer,” she retorted. After years of practice - even if they were fake years - she could do bratty little sister like no other.
Spike’s mouth curved into a faint smile. “Your mum was a smart lady, and you should listen to her. But it’s - different for vampires, you know? Slayers, too. Violence is what they do. What they need, sometimes. You get to feeling like you just have to - let it out.”
“By hitting people.”
“Yeah. I mean, no. I mean… sometimes.”
“So, you’re saying sometimes you can solve your problems with violence?” She kinda thought she knew what Spike was trying to say, but his obvious discomfort with the after-school specialness of the conversation was just too good to let slide.
He shrugged. “I’m a vampire. I solve all my problems with violence. But, uh, you shouldn’t do that,” he backtracked quickly, “because you’re a good girl, and I’m evil, and you shouldn’t listen to anything I say.”
She bit her lip to keep herself from giggling. “You really suck at this. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Spike grumbled, giving her a light shove in the direction of the door. “Go on back to the party, now. They’ll be missing you.”
Abandoning her empty cup on the counter for someone else to clean up, she started to leave the kitchen, but stopped in the doorway and turned back to him. “It’s because you love her, isn’t it?”
Spike looked at her for a long moment. “Yeah, it is.”
She rolled her eyes. “People do stupid things for love.”