Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Character/Pairing: Spike, Dawn
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike Themed Drabbles and Icons: Blue
Warning(s): Spoilers (for the comics)
Word Count: 990
Date Written: 6 November 2018
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
Snarling, Spike ripped out yet another tape and threw it across the room. Nothing was doing any good! The bugger in his mind was determined to make him forget Dawn, and it was letting nothing survive of her experience on this Earth. He whipped out a notebook and pen and again tried to scribble his feelings and thoughts of her, but as fast as he wrote, the words simply vanished from the page.
“Spike.” Her voice was weak, and he ignored at first, looking around the room that seemed to be growing steadily smaller in desperate search of another way to try to record her presence not just on the Earth but in his life. She had been the first person to believe in him, to truly believe in him and his ability to be far more than just another evil Vampire! He could not bear the thought of forgetting her! His hands clasped his throbbing head, his fingers thrusting up into his blonde hair.
“Spike!” she called him again. He heard the weakness and pain in her voice and finally turned to look at her. She was still fading in and out. Watching her for just a moment made his tears start to fall. He had lost so much; he couldn’t bear to lose her too! And not just to lose her but to forget her completely!
The one thing that had always assured him in thinking of the time he would lose those mortals who had come to mean so much to him was the fact that he would always have memories of them. He had clung to those memories throughout Buffy’s death and sometimes still held to them when he thought of Joyce and his own dear mother and craved a maternal touch. But he wasn’t going to just lose Dawn, who had become like a little sister to him. He was going to forget her, and there seemed to not be a bloody thing he could do about it!
“Spike!” she called him again, forcing his name out of her mouth like a desperate, dying plea. He almost fell to his knees, but instead he pushed himself to her side.
“Yes, Nibblet?” he asked quietly, his voice cracking as he looked down at her through his tears.
“Hold me?” she asked, and he hurried to do as she requested. His hands were surprisingly gentle for a creature of the night, but then his touch had always been gentle when it came to her. He lifted her up as though she weighed nothing, and indeed she seemed lighter than a feather. Scooting beneath her, he lowered her back onto the couch and into his lap.
He stroked her long, brown hair tenderly and gazed into her beautiful, blue eyes which had always seemed so full of life. He remembered learning that she wasn’t supposed to be a real girl, and he remembered scoffing at that idea every time he’d looked into her eyes. They had always been so beautiful, so vibrant, so full of life . . . and now they, too, were fading. There was barely any color left in them at all, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before she was gone completely.
His heart had never ached like this except for when he’d lost Buffy. He wanted to hold tightly to her and beg her not to leave him, but it would do no good. He couldn’t stop it. Even if he’d gone with the others, he still would not have been able to stop it. He’d stayed behind to comfort Dawn, but how could he comfort her when he knew what was coming, what was going to happen, and what he was powerless to stop.
He started to open his mouth, to try to lie to her and give her a bit of false reassurance, but she pressed her lips together and whispered softly to him, “Sh.” He was supposed to be reassuring her; yet, here again, she was reassuring him! “It’s okay.” She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed him softly. He’d known years ago that she’d had a crush on him, but now for the first time she made him tingle inside. “You might forget me,” she whispered, “but I won’t -- “ She was gone again, and then back in the next minute. “I won’t forget you,” she swore.
He wanted to promise he wouldn’t forget her. He wanted to swear that he would take her memory with him into eternity. He wanted to tell her she was too important and he loved her too much to ever forget her, but his mind was once again no longer his own. There was no stopping this thing inside of him of taking all his treasured memories of his time with her, no more so than he could stop it from taking her out of the world.
He held to her tightly, but she still vanished right out from between his hands, leaving him holding nothing more than empty air. He remembered Joyce. He remembered his own mother and her belief in a God he’d never believed cared. He remembered Buffy, losing her, her friends working a spell to bring her back, and somehow, miraculously actually bringing her back as herself.
He remembered her becoming whole again and recalled other miracles she’d worked. “Please,” he whispered, bowing his head. “Please one more miracle. Grant us one more miracle. Bring Dawn back to us.”
He continued to pray fervently to any one or thing that might grant them one last miracle. Something inside of him jumped as Dawn reappeared in his arms. He would have thought it was his heart if his heart still beat, but it was hope and love and all the other things that the Summers sisters had taught him to believe in and feel again. “One last miracle,” he prayed, stroking her hair, and kept praying all night long.