Flesh and Blood

17

The sun had set on another day, and after many attempts, Dawn finally managed to convince Buffy to swap places with her. It was like a weight was lifted off her shoulders—a weight that was replaced with an even heavier tank. The teen watched over Spike, while her sister was back where she needed to be: resting and recovering. Dawn was eager to be with her undead friend; no matter what the aunt did, Isobelle just wouldn't settle for her. The infant was not yet used to all the commotion, and yearned only for the security of her mother's embrace.

As the longhaired teen stood at the dining room window, her weary blue eyes looked out. The moon's light was dimmed by a cloud that rolled in front of it. She couldn't remember a time where there wasn't something going wrong in her life, or the lives of the people around her. First, her father, Hank Summers, seemed to not care about the sisters since they moved to Sunnydale. He never sent cards for birthdays or Christmases, not a one. Fast forward a few years, and her mother grew sick, collapsing in front of her, and a few weeks after that, Dawn discovered she was some mystical key with made-up memories and a treasure to be tracked down by a hell god.

Sadly, when she thought her mother—who wasn't actually her mother—had successfully recovered, Joyce passed away suddenly, leaving the family broken and the Summers' girls struggling to find a new way of life. Then, Buffy died—only for a couple months before she was brought back to life by Willow, and even though the teen was beyond happy that her sister was alive, that act signalled the start of the witch's addiction to Magick. Yet another disaster that Dawn had to experience, on top of the manufactured memories of Angel losing his soul, and the time all Sunnydale residents lost their voices, they had yet another disaster: Sunnydale collapsing into the Hellmouth. So, as much as Spike buckling in front of her young eyes shocked her, Dawn knew that this was what her life was going to be: filled with one tragic event after another. There had been the odd glimmer of happiness, like her beautiful niece being born, but it was a happiness that was always accompanied by a storm.

Life has a way of balancing itself out, she told herself.

A sigh escaped Dawn's lips as she bit into her evening snack: a cheese and anchovy pizza. With a mouthful, she continued to look out the window, unaware that her family's bad luck was about to change.

Spike lay on the dining room table. His vampire senses willed him to wake from his slumber, but his body would not cooperate. The unmistakable taste of blood tainted his taste buds and sent a shiver of confusion down his stiffened spine. Oddly, the vampire didn't remember being injured, except for a measly arrow in his shoulder; in fact, the last thing Spike remembered was telling Dawn he was fine. Then everything after was a blank. So why could he taste blood on his lips? The cool, hard wood of the dining room table told him that his signature black t-shirt was not on him... something had happened, but what? The vampire tried to raise his right hand to rub the fog away from his forehead, however when he did, a pain radiated from his shoulder blade and shot down his arm.

"Where am I?" Spike groaned, a panic brewing inside of him as he realized it was human's blood.

"Spike! Oh, my God... We've been so worried," Dawn stuttered as she reacted to his voice.

He tried to sit up but failed. A frustrated growl escaped Spike's lips, and he squinted his eyes open.

"You're at headquarters. You passed out... Don't you remember anything?"

The vampire frowned, and then shook his head in response. He tried to sit up once more, but again, he failed. "What the hell happened?" he moaned.

"Woah, slow down. You really shouldn't be rushing." Dawn came to his side, placing a hand on his good shoulder.

"W-why can't I remember? And why do I taste human blood? Did I... Did I hurt someone?" Spike asked, panic wavering his words. His eyes widened in horror. "Who did I kill!?"