safe haven

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They are the property of Joss Whedon. I just borrow them. No copyright infringement is intended nor implied.

safe haven, part five

They were having so much fun.

Spike told her stories that made her laugh. She hadn't remembered laughing. Not at first. But he reminded her. He talked and talked and talked. He talked about Buffy, and how they used to 'dance', which he said was their code word for fight, but she knew it meant 'making love'. He said that most of the time he let her think she'd won (course Buffy had said just the opposite years before during those rare times she talked about Spike). Then Spike told tales about Xander and Andrew. They were both super nerds (which Dawn already knew), but she didn't know they enjoyed role-playing games. They'd play in the basement on Revello Drive. Spike pretended to be asleep. With the no breathing and all, he usually got away with it, too, he said. They'd forget he was there. It seemed that Andrew always had to be the alien with pointy ears and Xander the captain who spoke in short clipped sentences, with a too loud voice. She knew the game had to be 'Star Trek', but she didn't mention it to Spike. He seemed to like leaving that part out. It made Xander and Andrew sound a little crazier.

Spike also taunted Andrew every chance he got by threatening to destroy one of his 'guy dolls', or 'action figures' as Andrew insisted upon calling them. After Spike got the chip out, he really gave Xander a hard time, too, for a few weeks there - promising to sneak into his room and bite him in his sleep. But then Xander lost his eye, and that threat wasn't as much fun.

Next, Spike talked about Giles thinning the glass in his spectacles with his incessant wiping. He said the best word to describe Giles was 'incessant'. She liked Giles' use of the word 'catatonia', and told Spike so, but he didn't see the humor in that. Spike also added tidbits about the potentials that kept cramming into the house in Sunnydale that last year. He said they were mostly insane due to consuming sugar-laden cereals by the bushel and squealing like Banshees until dawn. “What's a banshee?” she had asked. “Bloody potentials squealing until dawn,” he replied with a straight face.

In less than a week, she laughed more than she had in five years.

Dawn sprang up onto her knees instantly as soon as the first screams erupted from the body lying next to her. Quickly, she scanned the room, searching for possible intruders. The curtains, drawn tight to keep the daylight out while the two warriors slept, still let in enough light to see whatever might be hiding in the corners. But the room was empty, and straightaway Dawn shifted her attention back to the other body in her bed. There, a low moan was replacing the wails that had pierced Dawn's slumber only seconds before as she watched Faith struggle with a dream-induced foe. She was having a nightmare.

“Where is he?” Faith cried, pushing her feet roughly into Dawn's side as she propelled herself into a sitting position and clawed backwards toward the edge of the bed. Her eyes, dark and liquid, were barely visible underneath the matted hair covering her face.

“Shhh…it's okay, Faith…I'm here,” said Dawn, softly.

“No girls…” Faith mumbled, inching further away from Dawn and closer to the edge of the bed. “No girls,” she repeated her voice loud and harsh.

Dawn reached out to her, very slowly. Not wanting to touch her just yet – but getting ready for when she wanted to be touched.

“He's dead,” Faith moaned, her words barely audible in between the noisy sobs.

“Faith…please…wake up,” Dawn pleaded. “Wake up…please. It's going to be okay –“

Faith raised her head, her face contorted with rage as damp eyes, black with pain, glared up into Dawn's face. “It will never be okay,” she rasped. “R-Robin is gone. The slayers are gone…everyone…gone…and it w-will…N-Never. Be. Okay.”

Dawn reached forward with outstretched arms, beseeching the grieving slayer to accept the embrace. Faith hesitated, out of stubbornness, Dawn believed. But then Faith slumped forward and allowed Dawn to pull her close. Within moments, Faith buried her face in Dawn's lap, and the sound of her sobs filled the room. Struggling to keep her own tears from falling, Dawn stroked her friend's head. She didn't say a word, not wanting to hear her own voice and the pain she knew was there, too. She couldn't help Faith if she were helpless, too.


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Dawn awoke and Faith wasn't in bed. She could hear her in the bathroom though, and sighed as she sat up, automatically beginning to repeat the plan one more time in her head. After several days, Dawn had folded under Spike's insistence that she tell Faith that he and Wesley were in Las Vegas. But now Faith was in the midst of one of her mood spirals, and it was strictly of the downhill variety. A fragile Faith, or quick-to-punch-Faith, as Dawn liked to call her post-dream demeanor, wasn't going to make this news go down any easier. Dawn had expected the meeting with Spike and Wesley to be awkward at best. What with the deceit, the secrets, and the not telling about seeing Spike (okay, pretty much all the same bad thing ), Dawn knew Faith was going to be mighty pissed. In addition, Spike had urged her to tell Faith about him and Wesley days earlier – before Faith had the dream about Robin, Cleveland and the slayers.

“Stop stalling, and tell her about us, Dawn,” Spike had said the second night they were together.

For seven nights straight, Dawn had met Spike a little after sunset in the casino at the Bellagio where she'd seen him that first night. For the next twelve hours or so, they'd talk, walk the streets of Vegas, and hang out with some of Spike's friends. And yes, Spike had friends, lots of them as far as Dawn could tell. These humans and demons did not hesitate to greet him joyfully with broad grins and hearty handshakes. It was so different from the way the Scoobies had treated him. He was so different, too, Dawn noticed, pleased that he seemed really good. Of course, some things were the same. Most of the women said ‘hello' by planting wet kisses on his face, or lips, or by grabbing him around the hips and pulling him roughly to their bodies. They didn't care that he had walked into the club or bar with a tall, stunning blue-eyed brunette on his arm – and yes, Dawn felt she was just that – tall and stunning (okay, maybe she hoped for stunning). Spike's reaction to all of it – no matter the greeting – was the same; a generous smile and a slight bow, and then he'd return his full attention to Dawn each and every time. She loved that, she realized, slightly surprised by her own admission.

Still no matter how many times she stressed how much she enjoyed their time alone together, he kept insisting that she tell Faith about him and Wesley.

She'd waited as long as she could to come clean and just knew that now her ass was in a sling of potentially enormous proportions. Dawn gulped, seeking to calm her surprisingly dislodged nerves. Then she pulled on her jeans, t-shirt and black leather jacket before grabbing the hotel room key card from the dresser and sneaking out while Faith was still in the bathroom.


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The hissing sound of running water told Dawn that Faith was in the shower. Dawn had stepped out to make a telephone call out of earshot of the Slayer. But she hadn't talked to Spike. She left him a message on his cell phone. "We'll see you at 6 p.m." That's all she said. She hoped he recognized her voice.

Wrapped in a large white towel, Faith emerged from the bathroom, a cloud of steam surrounding her.

"Feel better?" asked Dawn.

"Better," she said, shaking her wet hair loose from under the other towel that had been wrapped around her head. "What's this meeting about that's such a big secret, Dawn?"

She didn't let her expression show her surprise at Faith's question. She'd told Faith about a meeting she'd arranged with two Scourge demon hunters who might be traveling back to the Midwest (Still keeping deceit alive and well, she moaned silently). She never used the word secret, however. She'd said that if they proved to be the right sort they might be able to help them rid Cleveland of its Scourge demons. These words weren't that much of an outright lie, Dawn reasoned. Spike killed demons, and Wesley, a former Watcher, was an experienced demon hunter. She just hadn't mentioned their names. So what if they hadn't said a word about the Midwest. They might travel there. Who knew? It was possible that they'd accompany them back to Cleveland. Could happen, mused Dawn, wishing she believed her own dream.

"No secret, just some demon hunters you should meet," was all Dawn could manage to say.

"Shit, girl, I'm getting tired of lining up new allies just to have the Scourge kill them off in a couple of weeks," Faith plopped down on the sofa and gestured for Dawn to pass her a brush. Dawn picked up the brush from the dresser, and joined her on the sofa, perching next to Faith on her knees. She started moving her fingers through Faith's long black hair, before beginning to brush the tangles out as she spoke.

"These two are tough, among the best," Dawn said.

"Yeah, we'll see." Faith sounded tired, but Dawn could tell she had something more she wanted to say.

"We've been here nearly two weeks and it's time for us to head back to Cleveland."

Dawn stopped brushing her hair, and began chewing on her lower lip, stalling while trying to decide how to respond. They were going to meet Spike and Wesley in about an hour. She had to believe that would change everything. So there was no need to panic, argue, or say something that she might regret later. "Well, I guess, we have been here a while," she said simply.

"I contacted Herschel," Faith said. "He'll be here tomorrow, and we can leave the next day. Okay?"

"You've already contacted Herschel?" Dawn gave nothing away with her tone as she continued to brush Faith's hair.

"Yeah, I called him while you were out."


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“Hello, Dawn. Hello Faith," said Wesley Wyndam Pryce as Spike led the two women into his office at Wolfram and Hart's Las Vegas branch.

"Wesley," Faith nodded. She'd met Spike in the lobby a few moments before, and hadn't even flinched when she saw him, which made Dawn wonder if she had spotted them earlier in Las Vegas. Also, Faith hadn't said a word about Dawn's tale of the two mysterious demon hunters they were supposed to meet. Dawn knew that Faith always managed to communicate when she was pissed, and words weren't always necessary. But she was getting nothing from Faith now, except that she seemed mighty interested in Wesley Wyndam Pryce. Her gaze remained on him from the moment they walked in the room.

Dawn had to admit that she was also intrigued by Wesley. His hair, although cut fairly close to the scalp, appeared un-brushed, and his beard was a scrubby short-cropped bush circling his chin and cheeks, speckled with gray. He had violet-colored eyes, but the deep-set bags that hung under them, making them appear almost black. Dawn's memories of Wesley the Watcher didn't match this thin, anguished-faced man seated behind the oversized mahogany desk. Still it was apparent by Spike's demeanor that Wesley was definitely in charge – the boss – as he'd called him.

"You guys the big cheese of Wolfram and Hart Las Vegas or what?" asked Faith with a too calm voice, Dawn noted, as the slayer slouched down into the large comfy chair a few feet in front of Wesley's desk. Dawn remained standing in the space between Spike, who stood stiffly facing the large floor-to-ceiling windows, and Faith, who was sprawled in the chair.

"Glad you two could make it. I wondered when Spike would finally get you in here," said Wesley. "We've got quite a big assignment to discuss and time is short, ladies."

Faith shot a quick glare at Dawn, and Dawn watched Spike's shoulders tense. Sounded like Wesley wanted to talk business, and that was something Dawn hadn't expected.

"You want to discuss a project with us?" inquired Faith. "You're not Watcher boy anymore. What makes you think we'll take orders from you.”

Faith leaned forward in the chair, arms resting on her knees as she stared into Wesley's deep-set eyes. "Besides, Dawn and I operate alone. We don't accept assignments. We make our own war.”

"I knew that," said Wesley. "But Spike and I believe you'll be extremely interested in this project."

At Wesley's words, Dawn shot a glance at Spike, but she couldn't see his face. The stiffening of his back and shoulders was all she saw.

"You two stole a book. From a Scourge general as I understand it." Wesley continued, as he stood up and walked to the front of the desk, sitting down on the corner facing Faith. "That book has to be returned to the Scourge. And you are the only ones who can get that job done. You two have quite a reputation for getting the job done and..."

"Damn you, Wesley." Faith interrupted, her voice almost flirtatious. "You don't have to use all of that sugar and spice to get the girls to do as you want. Not your usual style if I recall. You like to hold a gun to their heads, or shoot ‘em up with a few choice demon drugs. Not sweet words."

"The book, Faith..." Wesley continued clearly ignoring Faith's interruption. "Explains a prophecy...one that Spike and I know is not true, but the Scourge believe it is. And we want them to continue to believe it. The general you tortured and killed was one of our operatives. He was going to give it to his leader. But he's dead now, and we need you to return it to the Scourge."

Faith turned and looked directly at Dawn. "So this book is important to Wolfram and Hart, or to you and Spike?"

"It's important to all of us," said Spike.

He had turned from the window and was now staring at Dawn as he spoke. His blue eyes, flecked with gold, reminded her of the time he'd gotten so angry with her for claiming she could stay home alone one night during that summer when Buffy was dead, the second time. Dawn met his gaze, and didn't turn away. Looking into his eyes, she realized that Spike wanted them to do this. Whatever the consequences. He didn't necessarily like it. But he wanted it.

to be continued...