It's Not Where You Start Out (7/17)
by Kelly Frieders
raykel2@cox.net

Genre: Drama, B/S
Rating: PG-13, nothing you wouldn't see on the show
Disclaimer: Spike's not mine. Wish he were, but my husband might object. Buffy and all the rest aren't mine, either. I'm just borrowing them from Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy for a while.

Summary: Post "The Gift." Way post "The Gift," actually. Takes place sometime the following year. There's some new interest in the Key and an old enemy is back in town. Spoilers for everything up to and including "The Gift."

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7.

It had all the makings of a really miserable evening. Dawn, chafing at the third straight day of heavy restrictions on her, pouting about not needing to be baby-sat twenty-four hours a day. Spike, here because he didn't want to leave Dawn's side, but still distant and moody toward Buffy over their argument Monday morning. And Buffy, trying to pretend everything was just hunky-dory and they were going to have a great time watching movies and munching on popcorn. She was fooling no one, least of all herself.

"Okay, who's up for more popcorn?" she asked with forced cheer. Spike and Dawn both looked at her like she was an alien. "Okay, fine," she mumbled to herself.

"Buffy, this is stupid," Dawn said sullenly. "You could be out patrolling or something. You don't need to waste your time watching over me like I'm three. I'll be fine."

"Dawn, we have been over this and over this. We have no idea what the monks will do next. I'm not taking any chances."

"She's right, pidge," Spike agreed. "We're staying put."

Well, Buffy noted, he actually agreed with her about something. This was progress.

"But Willow and Tara did the protection spell around the house. No one but us can get anywhere near it."

"'Bout time some humans got a taste of not getting in a place unless they're invited," Spike muttered.

"It's not enough. Okay, so movie night is a bust and we're all cranky, but we're gonna make the best of it." She gave Spike a pointed look. "All of us." Then back to Dawn she said "You're too important to me -- to *us*--" she amended, glancing at Spike, "to risk letting our guard down."

Dawn was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why am I important to you?"

Buffy groaned. "Okay, we are so not going there. You *know* why you're important, Dawn."

"No, not really," Dawn said, looking very disturbed. "I've been thinking about it, Buffy, and Brother Ondrih is right."

"No, he is *not* right," Buffy insisted, troubled. It was bad enough to see Dawn down over simple boy problems. To see her doubt her entire worth tore Buffy's heart out.

"Think about it, Buffy. Those other monks created me out of nothing and plopped me into your life. They gave you fourteen years worth of false memories. Brother Ondrih is right, that's a pretty sick thing to do."

Buffy stared at her sister, her heart twisting in her chest. Where did she even begin with something like that? "God, Dawn, why are we doing this again? We've been through all this before. It doesn't matter how you got here. You're my sister and I love you. I'm not letting them take you away from me."

"You wouldn't even know it," Dawn responded, biting her lip. "Everything would go back to the way it was before. You wouldn't remember me or any of the false memories."

"And that's a *good* thing?" Buffy demanded. She went over to the couch where Dawn was sitting and took her by the shoulders. "Dawn, I died for you and I'd do it again in a second. And you think I want to forget why it's so important? How can you even think that?"

"How can I *not* think it?" She hesitated, looking reflective. "When Mom died, Tara told me that it was wrong to mess with life and death, that Witches can't be allowed to alter the fabric of life. But isn't that just what those monks did when they made me? Brother Ondrih said creating me was overturning the natural order of things, that you were never supposed to have a sister but *they* made it happen. That *can't* be a good thing."

"Brother Ondrih is an extremist, Dawn."

"But Tara's not and she said the same thing. It's wrong to mess with life and death."

"Then I shouldn't be here either," Buffy told her. "I *died* Dawn, and I came back."

"But you never would have done that if it hadn't been for me." Dawn threw her hands up. "What they did was *wrong* Buffy, maybe even evil."

"So what if it is?" Spike interjected. "Doesn't make *you* evil, now does it?"

"Right," Buffy added quickly. "Maybe what they did was wrong, but it was *their* wrong, not yours. I mean, lots of ways people are made are *wrong.* People get pregnant when they're not ready, but that doesn't make the *baby* bad. Heck, Mom and Dad getting together, that was *so* wrong, but that doesn't make *me* bad, does it?"

"It's not the same," Dawn argued. "Those are all real people who came into existence the real way, the way it's supposed to be. I'm like, like, Frankenstein's monster and the monks who created me are the mad doctors. 'It's *alive*" she quoted bitterly. "The whole *point* of that story was how wrong it is for people to create life and how monstrous that creation is."

Spike snorted. "You ever *read* Frankenstein, platelet? I don't mean the old movie with Boris Karloff, I mean the book by Mary Shelley."

"No," Dawn admitted, then added quickly, "Not yet."

"You read?" Buffy asked Spike, skeptically. "Actual books?"

He gave her an exasperated look. "Yes I read, you twit."

"'Cause, I mean, you're not exactly the bookish type."

He coughed at this. "You'd be surprised, love. I went to University when I was human, didn't I? Not everyone thinks Cliff Notes are the bloody Bible. Now if you don't mind, I'm making a point here." He turned back to Dawn.

"The movie got it all wrong. That bit about the monster being a killer because it had a criminal's brain? GAH! Misses the whole point Shelley was trying to make. You know who's the real villain of Frankenstein?"

"The *monster,*" Dawn said in that teenage "well DUH" tone of voice.

"Wrong," Spike replied smugly, "the real villains are *humans,* not the monster."

"Said the vampire," Buffy jibed.

"Being a vampire's got nothing to do with it. Dr. Frankenstein wasn't a mad doctor, he was a regular bloke who got carried away with himself. Good intentions and all that, like your monks, but he was messing with stuff he shouldn't've been messing with."

"And the result was a monster," Dawn said.

"So it would seem," Spike returned, "but when you get about halfway through the book you find out he wasn't *made* a monster. He wasn't evil because of how he came to be. He loved beauty and loved people. He wanted them to love him, but he knew he was a thing of horror. He ran away to the woods and watched this family in a cottage and fell in love with them, but when he finally risked showing himself to them, they were repulsed. They couldn't see beyond his monstrous appearance into the creature he truly was. So spurned by his creator and by the people he loved, he vowed vengeance. He found Dr. Frankenstein's family and started killing 'em, said he'd keep killing 'em unless Frankenstein made him a companion."

"So he *was* a monster," Dawn pointed out.

"Yes, but not because of how he was *made.* He became a monster when he *chose* to be a monster. The point, sweet bit, is that it's not where you start out that makes you a monster. It's what you do with what you've got. Even if the monks who made you were evil to the core -- which I doubt -- that doesn't make *you* evil. You are what you make yourself to be. Which, if you'll remember, is exactly what I told you the other night. And what I told you when you first found out about this bloody Key business, and what I'll *keep* telling you till you get it through that thick skull of yours. Get it?"

Dawn stared at him a moment, but started nodding slowly. "Yeah, I get it."

Once again, Buffy found herself a little astonished by Spike's insights. As she listened, it occurred to her that he wasn't only talking about Dawn, he was talking about himself. //He wanted them to love him, but he knew he was a thing of horror.// Suddenly it hit her how much she missed Spike these last couple of days since their argument in the Magic Box. Sure, he'd been around as much as always, but he'd been so distant, closed off. Almost like he used to be. She'd not even bothered to make another attempt at the conversation she'd promised Willow she'd have with him because it no longer seemed necessary. He'd been so withdrawn, only really talking to Dawn and not her. And she missed it; she missed *him.*

The phone rang and Dawn jumped up. "I'll get it," she called out as she headed toward the kitchen.

Buffy turned back to Spike, but he was looking away from her, distant again.

"Spike, listen," she started and he turned toward her. "I-- I'm sorry about the other day. I didn't mean to put you off or treat you like a lap dog or like you're helpless." She twisted her hands nervously in her lap. "I want--"

"Buffy, it's for you!" Dawn called out from the kitchen.

Buffy sighed, exasperated. "Who is it?"

"Some guy named Willy."

Buffy and Spike exchanged glances. "Willy? Why would *Willy* be calling me?"

Willy was the proprietor of Willy's Place, a dive bar in town that catered to Sunnydale's demon population. As for Willy himself, he was slightly less respectable than his establishment. A two-bit hustler who played all ends against the middle for a quick buck, he usually avoided the Slayer like the plague. The fact that he would actually seek her out, calling her at home no less, made her instantly suspicious. Clearly Spike had the same high opinion of him.

"Doubt it's to invite you down for a cuppa."

"Are you coming?" Dawn prompted, poking her head in from the hallway outside the kitchen.

"I'm coming," Buffy said, shooting Spike another glance as she got up to get the phone. Spike followed.

In the kitchen, Buffy took the phone from Dawn while Spike leaned on the counter. "Hello?"

"Hey there, Slayer, what's happening?"

"You called me, Willy. What do you want?"

"Is that any way to treat an old friend?"

"Willy--" she said testily.

"All right all right, don't kill a guy for trying to make small talk. I got some information for you."

"That's funny, I'm pretty sure I didn't ask you for any information."

"Yeah, but you'll want this."

She tapped the phone impatiently, but he said nothing. "I'm waiting."

"I'm not gonna tell you over the phone. Geez, you think I'm stupid?"

"Well--"

"Come down to my bar. Meet me out back, though. Wouldn't want you scaring away the customers."

"I don't think so, Willy. I'm kinda busy here. Gotta shampoo my hair and everything."

"I'm telling you, you wanna know this. Bring some cash. And come alone."

"You're joking, right? Who's paying you to set me up?"

"Aw man, I'm hurt. This ain't no setup, okay? I'm on the level. There's something bad going down and you'll wanna stop it."

Buffy considered a moment. She trusted Willy about as much as she'd trust Brother Ondrih to walk Dawn to school. However, if something demony was happening in Sunnydale, Willy would know about it. She really should at least hear what he had to tell her. "Okay, fine, Willy. I'll meet you out behind your place in twenty minutes. But if this isn't worth my time, I'm gonna kick your ass."

"You won't be sorry. And bring cash," he repeated.

"Yeah, yeah." She hung up.

"What was that all about?" Spike asked, sounding as suspicious as she felt.

She shrugged. "He says he has some information to sell me, something I need to know.

"Oh, *that's* likely," Spike scoffed.

"Still, I should at least check it out." She reached for the phone again. "I'll give Willow a call and see if she and Tara can come over and stay with Dawn."

"What?" Dawn and Spike said in unison.

"Dawn, I already told you, I'm not gonna leave you alone with Brother Ondrih and friends floating around somewhere."

"I don't need a babysitter!" Dawn complained.

"Hello, she's not alone," Spike pointed out.

Buffy sighed. Not again. "Spike--"

"Don't 'Spike' me, Slayer. You just said I wasn't helpless so don't go treating me like I am! I'm perfectly capable of watching over kid sis for an hour while you go rattle Willy's cage."

"I don't need anyone to watch me," Dawn interjected.

"Yes, you do!" Spike and Buffy replied in unison. Then to Spike Buffy added: "What if the monks showed up? You couldn't fight them."

"I got a *brain,* don't I? The point is keeping her *away* from them, not handing out thrashings. I think I'm up to it."

She wavered, torn. On the one hand her protectiveness of Dawn made her wary about leaving anyone with her that couldn't, if necessary, kill to protect her. On the other hand, the last thing she wanted to do was rehash the same argument they'd just been on the verge of settling. She looked from Spike, to Dawn, and back to Spike.

"Okay," she gave in. She pointed at Dawn. "But you stay here with him and don't do anything stupid. And you," she swiveled to face Spike, "if anything happens, you get her to Willow's dorm, okay?"

"Yeah yeah. Now off to Willy's. And watch out for a set up."

"I will." She looked at Spike and her sister again, trying to push down her apprehension. Something told her this was a bad idea.

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"Could she *be* any more paranoid?" Dawn asked as she and Spike returned to the living room after Buffy left.

"She's got good reason to be, don't you think? She's just looking out for you, pidge."

"I know. I'm just sick of all this. We're always hiding from *someone* because of me. First Glory, then those Knights, now the monks. Do you see why I hate being the Key?"

"But you are. Time to accept it and move on."

"Maybe," Dawn nodded. She looked up at him with a half smile. "I like what you said about Frankenstein. You're smart."

He shrugged. "You are too. That's why you're not gonna let those monk blighters keep you down. Or stupid teenage boys. You're better than the lot of 'em."

She smiled. "Buffy's an idiot."

"What?"

"She is," Dawn said. "You're like the best thing that ever happened to us. She's crazy for pushing you away."

He looked totally embarrassed, but Dawn didn't care. If Buffy wasn't going to bother to tell him the truth than she was. *Someone* had to.

"No she isn't, Dawn," he said looking down. "She deserves much better."

"That is *so* not true. It's just like you said, about Frankenstein. About people not seeing past the 'monster' to what's inside. Buffy doesn't get that, but I do."

"You're wrong," he said, sounding sad. "Buffy *does* get it. I *am* a monster."

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Buffy walked from Willy's Place towards the seedy motel he'd directed her to. Fortunately it was close by -- big surprise, dive motel near dive bar -- but still, she really had to work on getting her driver's license. She could've gone and been back by now if she could drive.

Then again, she had no idea how long this might take or what she was up against. As usual, Willy's information was somewhat lacking on details. He'd only told her that she was to go to this motel, to room 321, and she'd find an "old friend" there. That could mean *anything,* and again Buffy wondered at the wisdom of doing this alone. It *reeked* of setup. But as long as she was in the neighborhood, she figured she might as well check it out. If it looked dicey she could always go back and get Spike or Xander or Willow to give her a hand. Best check it out first herself, though, and see if it was worth bothering anyone over. Stupid Willy. Just once it would be nice if his information actually had some information in it.

She approached the motel and scanned the area for any signs of trouble, any demon activity, anything that might suggest why she was here or whether or not it was a trap. Nothing stood out at her, and she started searching door numbers to find room 321. 315, 317, 319, there it was, the one with the man coming out the door.

Buffy stopped in surprise, then ducked out of site behind a vending machine. He was walking toward her, holding a large stuffed envelope in his hand. She waited until he reached the vending machine, then stepped out in front of him and decked him with a good solid blow to the jaw. He flew backwards and landed sprawling on the sidewalk. She stepped over him and looked down.

"Ethan Rayne. Always a pleasure to see you."

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Ethan looked up to see the Slayer towering over him.

"OW!" he complained bitterly, rubbing his jaw. "The pleasure's all mine, Summers."

"What, even the military couldn't stand you? They kick your sorry ass out of that detention center in Nevada?"

"I'd never pegged you for a fascist," he replied snidely. "What happened to fair trial and all those lovely ideals about justice you
Yanks hold so dear?"

In response, she reached down and hauled him up by the collar. "You turned Giles into a demon. You want justice for that? What the hell are you doing in Sunnydale, Ethan?"

"Again with the fascism. It's a free country."

"Yeah, but it's not *your* country. Go home and leave us the hell alone."

"Why should I? Because *you* say so?"

"Well, yeah." She pulled back for another go at him, but he held up his hands in surrender.

"Now wait! You could give me a good thrashing if you want--"

"Thank you, I believe I will."

"Or," he continued hurriedly, "you can let me show you something that you'll find far more interesting."

"More interesting than beating the crap out of you? I don't think so," she sneered.

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Ethan said grinning. "While you're wasting your time with me, you've got a much more serious threat right under your nose."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'll show you." He bent down and picked up the envelope he'd been carrying. He'd been on his way to leave it for her, actually, though he certainly hadn't expected to actually run into her, especially not *here.* He'd hoped to just leave it in her mailbox and clear out before she could find him, but damned if he didn't always have the worst luck with that. Well, no matter. Once she saw the tape, she'd forget all about him.

He held up the envelope for her to see. "A videotape. You need to see this."

"Fine," she said tersely. "Show me the tape. Then I'll kick your ass."

"We'll see."

He led her back to his motel room and ushered her in. She made a face, stupid priss. If she thought this was bad she should've seen it before the mongoose's blood got cleaned up. He indicated the bed and motioned for her to sit, but her grimace deepened.

"I think I'll stand."

"Suit yourself."

He went to the telly, which already had a VCR attached, probably in anticipation of guests wanting to watch a porn film. Actually, porn films were probably why he had this tape to show her at all. Certainly the secret video camera set-up this room came equipped with wasn't often used to tape magic spells. Then again, on the Hellmouth, who knew? But whatever the reason for the set-up's existence, he was glad he'd paid the extra money it had cost him for the feature. Without the tape, he might never convince her he was telling the truth.

Popping the cassette in, he sat down on the bed and hit the play button. Summers' watched the tape, wrinkling her nose in even worse disgust when she realized it was a shot of the room.

"I swear to God, Ethan, if this is some kind of porn thing--"

"Just watch."

----------

Buffy looked at the grimy little TV and watched the tape Ethan played for her. It was a sort of surveillance-type shot of this very motel room, with a date stamp of three days ago. She saw Ethan go to the door, open it enough to peer through the chain, then close the door, remove the chain, and open it fully. From the camera angle she couldn't see who was at the door, but she saw Ethan step aside, then heard him say "Are you waiting for an invitation? Oh, right then. Come in William."

The visitor then stepped into the shot and Buffy's stomach clenched into a tight ball. Spike! Spike went to see Ethan Rayne? Spike knew Ethan Rayne was in town and didn't tell her?

"Name's Spike, mate," he was saying.

"Yes, yes, of course, Spike. Do come in. I trust you have the necessary payment?"

"Five hundred dollars."

Buffy's stomach twisted tighter. He was paying Ethan for something?

"Ah, very good. You don't mind if I count it?"

Spike handed him the money and Ethan counted it. "And the other item?"

Buffy watched in mounting dread as Spike pulled something out of his coat. Squinting, she leaned closer to the screen to see what it was. Papers of some kind. Ethan reached for them, but Spike held them out of his grasp.

"Uh-uh-uh. First you do my spell, then you get your spell."

"How do I know you'll keep your end of the bargain once I do the spell and you're de-chipped?"

Buffy's eyes widened in horror. "What?!" she cried, turning to Ethan. "What did you do to him?"

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Ethan smiled as Buffy watched the tape, enjoying her reaction. It was priceless: first the initial shock of seeing who had come calling on him, then the exchange of money, and finally her utter panic at the term *de-chipped.* It was delicious.

"What did you do to him?" she cried, but he merely smiled.

"Watch."

----------

Buffy watched as Ethan mixed up some sort of concoction on the tape, spread it on Spike's face and neck and then in a circle around him on the bed. He said some sort of incantation, then stepped back. "Done."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. You now have a piece of completely useless and harmless plastic in your head. I'll be taking my summoning spell now."

"Well now, mate, first I have to make sure you kept up your end of the bargain."

And then Spike hit Ethan, hard enough to knock him down.

And it didn't hurt him one bit.

A deep dread settled over her. It was one of her worst fears, and here it was. Spike no longer was restrained. He could kill again.

She barely registered the video image of Spike dropping the papers onto a sprawling Ethan. She turned to the real-life version beside her, eyes narrowing to hard slits.

"You bastard, I'm going to kill you!"

He retreated a bit, his smug grin giving way to alarm, but he said "You could do that, my dear, but is that really the best way to spend your time? You've got a fully functional vampire in your midst, walking amongst your friends, all of them unwary. If I were you I'd be asking myself, where is he right now?"

Buffy froze. He was back home. Alone. With Dawn.

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Ethan grinned, triumphant, as the realization registered on the Slayer's face. Quicker than he could have done it with a transportation spell, she was gone. The vampire was as good as dead.

Now he had work to do.

NEXT

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