TITLE: Amateur Magic [Part 8/9]
AUTHOR: Virtual Void
GENRE: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
RATING: PG-13 for non-graphic violence, mild language, and adult situations.
SUMMARY: Buffy needs Spike’s and Dawn’s help to save the world--she just doesn’t know it.
SETTING: Season Seven-ish
PAIRINGS: Spike/Dawn
DISCLAIMER: Some of the characters and ideas in this story were taken directly from the television series “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” (BTVS), which is owned, copyrighted and trademarked by Twentieth Century Fox, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the WB Television Network, and/or their related entities. No profit is being made from this story, and no copyright infringement is intended. The copyright owners of BTVS have not endorsed or authorized this story, and the author of this story is not affiliated with the copyright owners of BTVS. This story itself is copyright 2003 by Virtual Void. All rights reserved. Enjoy.
ARCHIVE: Please ask first.
FEEDBACK: Feedback, criticism, and MiSTing are welcome. “Was mich nicht umbringt, macht mich staerker.“
* * * * *
"Are you all right?" Spike asked.
"Jus' lubbly," Dawn said, sucking on her sore finger.
Spike stood up and started pacing the room. He was beginning to hate the whole bloody Summers clan.
"Hello? I'm the one with the toasted paw," Dawn said. "So what's your problem?"
"Problem? I haven't got a problem, do I? I'm peachy keen. It's just you people are setting me up to get staked by the Slayer. Well, I'm not having any of it."
"Me?" Dawn's cheeks turned rosy. "I'm setting you up?"
"No," Spike said. "Yes! No, I don't mean that."
"Spike, this is a very simple spell. It'll take us all of fifteen minutes to do."
"It's not the spell, Little Bit." Spike was grinding his teeth, determined to get over this habit of feeling sorry for himself.
Dawn walked over and took his fingers in her hands. "I know people don't trust you. They treat you like you're just evil, through and through. I guess you were once, but you've got a soul now. You can do good things." She put her cheek against his arm.
Spike reached over to her, but then, realizing what he was doing, pulled away. "Don't do that," he said to her. "Just don't."
All the emotion drained away from Dawn's expression. She went back to the chalk circle and sat down. She took a match from the box, struck it, and the room was infused with the sharp smell of burnt sulfur. After lighting the candle, she blew out the match with tense lips.
"Fine," she said. "Let's just do the damned spell."
* * * * *
"This isn't working," Willow said, closing the cell phone. She was beginning to feel panicked now. "Buffy's not answering."
Giles stood and said, "I've got to go stop her." He moved toward the doorway.
Willow grabbed his arm. "Giles, you can't make it in time."
Giles unclenched Willow’s fingers from his sleeve. "I know that, actually, but I must make the effort all the same." He jogged away into the night. Willow watched him until he disappeared, partly because it was so weird seeing Giles jog..
Willow did not want to be alone right now. She realized there was still a chance that Dawn and Spike could finish the spell in time to save Buffy. She called downstairs to them: "You guys, we've got an emergency. Could you try to hurry up?"
"Go away!" came both of their voices.
Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods. Willow slumped down the wall to sit on the floor. Feeling jittery, she did her best to distract herself by staging a puppet theater with her bunny slippers. Try as she would, she could not make her feet sound optimistic.
"I guess this must be what it's like to be crazy," she said to the empty room.
* * * * *
Buffy stepped squarely into the entrance of the Marmus' chamber. She held her axe at the ready and let the Marmus be the first to speak.
"Miss Summers. What a pleasure to see you again so soon."
As she approached the demon, toadies swarmed around Buffy's feet. "You've had your quota of kicks at my expense. This time the pleasure's all mine."
Walking was difficult with a half dozen toadies licking her shoes. Buffy stepped on a few feet, and their squeals of pain sent shivers up her spine. She gripped the axe firmly, determined not to let the toadies snatch it away this time.
The smell of lemon curry was still thick in the air. This demon had some weird mojo all right, but none of that mattered. Willow had performed her spell, and now the Marmus was no more powerful than a tastefully attired rutabaga. What's more, the poor sap didn't even know how helpless he was.
"Please, do come closer," he said. Just what Buffy intended to do, invited or not. This was one kill she was really going to enjoy.
Suddenly, she realized that she'd gotten too close to the demon for a proper swing of the axe. She was about to step back when he spoke.
"You have very pretty eyes, Miss Summers."
He smiled, and Buffy smelled the overpowering sweetness of his breath.
* * * * *
Spike sat down on the floor opposite Dawn. The flame of the candle between them guttered with each of Dawn's angry exhalations. Spike felt like a heel.
"Look, Nibblet, I didn't mean to cut you off like that."
"Just do the spell," Dawn said, her eyes fixed on the candle.
"I know you're ticked off."
Dawn tapped a drop of sandalwood oil into the candle flame-- it sizzled away in a hiss of smoke. "Dona nobis largifluus amor, and no, damn it, I am not ticked off." She ground Spike down with a devastating glare. "Why should I be ticked off? I was just trying to be nice, and you.... You act like I'm a gob of ketchup you just dripped on your shirt. Would you be ticked off? Of course not. Can we just do the spell now?"
Spike sighed. Summers women were nothing if not frustrating. Maybe he was being too paranoid, but he knew damned well that if anything went wrong, Giles and Willow would forget all about their little bargain, toss up their hands, and say, "Spike did it." Still, Dawn herself seemed pretty much aboveboard. Maybe she was the one who'd inherited all of Joyce's good qualities.
"You're right," Spike said. "I been acting like a git. Buffy's depending on us, so let's get this over with."
Dawn closed her eyes, but the way she was twisting her lips made Spike believe she was not thinking about the spell. "C'mon, Little Bit, let's help out your sis, okay?" She was tapping the bottle of oil against the stone floor, and Spike was sure she was just about to smash it.
"So, it's like I'm some nasty medicine you have to swallow," Dawn said, her eyes welling with tears. "But, you'll do it for Buffy, right?"
Spike wished he knew what station to tune in to so he could pick up this bird's frequency. "It's just a spell, love. And yeah, it's for Buffy, isn't it?"
"Everything's for Buffy. Everything's about Buffy. You don't give a rat's ass about me, do you? If it wasn't to help out Buffy, you'd never even think about spending fifteen minutes alone with me."
Spike had had just about enough of this. "I get it. So, it's this bloody spell. You figure it must be torture for me to sit down and get all touchy-feely with you. The only way I'd do something that disgusting would be because I'm desperate to get Buffy's attention."
"Yes," Dawn said.
Spike gripped her arms. "You think there's no bloody way I'd want to kiss a little duck like you unless it was for Buffy's sake."
"Yes," Dawn said, crying.
With his fingertips, Spike brushed Dawn's hair away from her face and back over her ear. “Sod the spell,” he said. Taking Dawn’s neck gently in his hand, he drew her into a kiss.
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