Title: Baby Doll
Author Restive Nature
Disclaimers: I do not own any of the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series. They belong to the almighty Joss and I just play with them for my own amusement before putting them away neatly.
Spoilers: Buffy Season Three "Amends"
Summary: A teenage girl with mysterious ties to Angel helps him with his Christmas Amends.
Chapter Sixteen
Patience
"And that is how Spike and I became a little more friendly," she finished relating that story with a sigh.
"With hot chocolate and bubble gum?" Angel teased.
"No, by listening and being there for him when he needed a friend," she countered. "But of course, I feel bad now, kind of."
"What for?"
"For telling him all that stuff about Dru," she explained. She could see he didn’t get the connection. "Since she’s left him and all. I wonder if they got back together."
"I really can’t say I’m losing sleep over that," Angel shrugged, which was the truth. He did wonder occasionally if Spike would return, perhaps with Dru in tow. But they would deal with that if and when it ever happened.
"I don’t imagine you would," Dylan shook her head sadly. "I mean, I know it’s wrong, but they were the closest thing I had to a family during that time. It was understandable that I’d bond with them and depend on them."
"I still can’t understand why you didn’t run away once you and Spike left the factory," Angel sighed.
"Stupid sense of honor," she provided.
"What’s that mean?"
"I told you that I promised Dru I’d help him," Dylan explained carefully. "I know at first she meant that she wanted me to fix him up, physically. But stupid me, I took that to mean everything. So whether it was physical or mental, I tried to help."
"That’s really sweet," he mused. "Stupid, but sweet."
"I’m so glad you agree," she returned dryly. "And believe me, I’m not planning on acting rashly again. Once was more than enough." They were quiet for a long while, both thinking through some things. Finally Angel broke the silence.
"There’s one thing afterwards that I thought about," he confessed. "I mean, not that I thought a lot about it, but just once or twice it came to mind. I didn’t really thought it mattered that much, being in the past. But…"
"What is it?"
"The whole reason I… he… didn’t kill you was because of your visions," he offered awkwardly. He had a difficult time separating himself from the demon, but she just remained quiet and let him work it out. "Any way, did you ever have any more visions? Because, if you did, Dru never mentioned them."
"I didn’t have visions, but I did dream about some stuff," Dylan shrugged. "I just didn’t tell her."
"What were your dreams?" he asked with interest. Aside from Dru and Buffy, he’d never known anyone else to have visions. Dru’s came from her insanity and the power she’d had as a mortal. Buffy’s came from her Slayer powers. But he wondered about Dylan’s. Maybe she had some heretofore-undiscovered power that fueled her dreams.
"They weren’t important," she whispered swiftly, glancing away.
"Maybe they were," he insisted softly. "What were they about?"
"You don’t want to know," she wouldn’t look at him.
"Were they about me?" he tried again. She finally looked at him, her eyes full of pain and sadness. He didn’t need her answer.
"I don’t like to hurt people," she told him. "And that’s exactly what hearing this would do."
"I think I can handle it," he returned gently. He paused. "What did you dream about?"
*****
Just the same as every night since Angelus’ return, Dylan woke from a nightmare. Sometimes they were of olden times, sometimes new. Angelus was always there. And he seemed intent on making up for lost time. Time he’d spent with his soul. So every vulgar, disgusting form of torture that crossed his mind, he was eager to enact. And Dylan bore the brunt of it through her dreams. But tonight had been the worst. Past and present mixed together in a macabre montage of faces that Angelus had killed. The faces had finally culminated in one that Dylan knew fairly well. She’d sat up, gasping for air. The suddenness of this death, the plain cruelty of it tore at her. Dylan felt her heart pounding, knew it was pounding in accompaniment to the victim as she breathed her last.
This time Angelus had gone too far. He’d chased his victim down and didn’t even bother to enjoy the fruits of his labor. He’d snapped the woman’s neck. Tears leaked from Dylan’s eyes as she squeezed them shut, trying to block out the image now engraved in her mind. Never had she felt a dream as deeply as this. Perhaps it was her proximity in knowing this victim? She never questioned that her dream was real. She’d dreamed of Angelus’ return, as it happened. So too, was Miss Calendar, Dylan’s computer science teacher, about to die. Maybe she was already dead.
Dylan, after almost half an hour of deep cleansing breaths was finally able to push her deep thoughts away. She tried over and over to remind herself that it wasn’t her fault. There was nothing she could have done to prevent this tragedy. Just like the hundreds of others that the Vampire population made their way through. She laid a hand across her eyes, wondering what she should do now.
Ever since that first time she and Angelus had come face to face, Dylan had studiously avoided him. Whenever he was in the main room, or prowling about the factory, she’d retreat to her room in the basement. Occasionally she’d seek out Spike and listen to him rant for a while. An urgent natural need forced her to rise from her little nest, but before she could swing her legs to the floor, there came a scratching at her door. Puzzled, she glanced over in time to see it swing open. But there was no one there. There was a rustle of movement though and finally a little head hopped into view.
"Oh," Dylan sighed at the little puppy that had jumped up on her bed. "Where did you come from?" The puppy simply yipped at her and anxiously licked at her fingers. Dylan glanced back out the bedroom door. But no one else was there. With a happy sigh, and a wistful memory of girlhood, when she’d longed for a dog, she relaxed enough to pet the dog. He went nearly ecstatic; his tail wagging so hard that his entire body shook. But their reverie was soon shattered.
"Dylan!" Spike yelled from above. "Get up here!"
She grimaced, wondering what she had done now, or what had happened to put Spike in a bad mood. She glanced at the wall, seeing that indeed someone had unchained her. So she gathered the length and hooked it over her shoulder. She still really hadn’t found a better way to carry it on the odd occasions that Dru forgot to remove it from her foot. She glanced down at the dog, which was instantly at her heels, his eyes trained on her every movement. The poor little thing must have wandered in by his own self to the factory. Quickly, she decided to secure it in her room and hopefully let it loose in the morning. It really didn’t belong here and she was quite sure that not all Vampires were so discerning in their meals. She only hoped that it wouldn’t whine or bark and give itself away.
With her very best commanding tone, she gestured to the dog, "stay!" He obediently sat on the floor and waited. With a half-hearted grin, she pulled the door shut behind her and waited a moment to listen for any telltale signs that he was in there. But all was quiet. She loped up the stairs, grimacing at her rumpled pajamas. Still after all this time, she insisted on changing before she went to bed. It was one small ritual to hang on to. She found Spike at the head of the stairs, looking ready to yell again. But instead he shut his mouth quickly.
"What did you need?" she asked, stifling a yawn. It always took her a few minutes to orient herself.
"Did you see the little blighter?" he demanded. She frowned. "The dog," he clarified. Her face fell. They already knew about it. And since he knew, she really couldn’t lie about it. "Damn thing ran downstairs."
"Yeah," she admitted softly. "He’s in my room." Spike’s gaze softened a little. "Do you want me to get him?" Spike shook his head.
"Nah," he shrugged. "Dru brought him back. Another pet it seems. May as well leave him there for now. I’ll tell her where the bloody thing is."
"What’s his name?" she asked softly. He looked at her as if she were daft.
"How the hell would I know?" he growled lightly.
"Can I call him Samson?" she asked hopefully. Spike glanced away.
"I wouldn’t get too attached to him, pet," he told her sternly. But she could see in his eyes that he understood.
*****
"You wanted to call him Samson?" Angel smiled widely.
"Well, he was so small," Dylan defended herself with a laugh, "it just seemed ironic."
"Yeah," Angel agreed, then sobered. "I remember how upset Dru was when he ran away."
"Oh, is that a euphemism or something else I don’t…"
"Oh no. As far as I know, he ran away when Dru got distracted by a much larger meal." He saw her sigh of relief. She really took these things to heart, not that he could blame her.
*****
"I’ll try not to," she promised. They both knew it was an empty one. Spike would have reiterated his warning, but a noise caught his attention.
"Ah, Dru’s getting up," he grinned. He didn’t notice the odd look on the girl’s face.
"What time is it?" she demanded swiftly. Spike looked mildly shocked at her imperious tone, but answered nonetheless.
"Almost seven, why?"
Dylan shook her head wonderingly. "Did anything, you know, big happen last night?"
Spike shook his head slowly. Dylan’s mind was whirling. Had she been wrong? Was her dream just that, a dream? Was it nothing more than her imagination coming into play? But no, it had seemed to be so real. She was almost entirely sure that Angelus was going to kill Ms. Calendar. But what could she do about it?
*****
"So that was really prophetic?" Angel choked out. He still struggled with the guilt of Jenny’s death. More so today because of the unearthly visitation of the First Evil in her form. The apparition had taunted him just as cruelly as he’d once taunted his own victims. If only Dylan had been able to warn someone. Now his guilt was redoubled, knowing his own part in keeping the girl prisoner. She could have averted that disaster.
"I didn’t know for sure until after," she was nearly in tears herself. "I have to live the rest of my life knowing that Ms. Calendar died because I didn’t try harder to prevent something from happening. I convinced myself that it was just a silly dream."
"But Spike was there," Angel protested. "He would have stopped you. No, the blame is mine."
"I think I already illustrated how easy it was to get Spike out of the factory. I could have convinced him to go out with me again and run away from him. He could only propel that wheelchair so fast." Angel couldn’t help himself. He recognized the pain in her eyes because it mirrored his own. He slipped from his chair and took a seat beside her. He gently wrapped an arm around her and let her cry, letting the tears she shed be his as well.
Chapter Seventeen
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