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Dawn liked Spike's crypt, even though none of the Scoobies could understand why. It was cool and dark, like a secret little cave that was tucked away somewhere. Even the way it smelled, like earth and smoke and alcohol, was nice, because those were all smells she associated with Spike himself. She stopped by every day after summer school, at first just to make sure that he was still there, and then because she didn't want to go home to that huge, silent house where the stifling heat masked the pain of empty rooms. Quick visits gave way to longer ones as she searched for any reason not to leave, and by the time August rolled around, Dawn was spending the majority of her afternoons there. She learned a lot about Spike that summer - he liked Rice Krispies in his blood, had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of Dawson's Creek, was grumpy for about an hour when he first got up, and he was a wonderful reader. His voice was perfect for it, low and even, and he didn't mind reading aloud to her, as long as she let him choose the book.
So far, they'd read To Kill A Mockingbird, Guards! Guards!, The Hobbit, and Emma, and while she liked them all, her favorite was The Jungle Book. Her mother used to read that to her, back in the days before she really existed, when she was just a memory. She wasn't quite sure how she knew that, but she remembered curling up against her mother on rainy days as she read about Mowgli and Shere Khan, just the same. Mom had always skipped the beginning and started with the showdown, so it had been surprising to learn just how precarious Mowgli's life had been when he was first taken in by the pack, but since Spike actually preferred that part, they always started there and worked their way up to the confrontation.
He loved better than anything else to go with Bagheera into the dark warm heart of the forest, to sleep all through the drowsy day, and at night see how Bagheera did his killing. Bagheera killed right and left as he felt hungry, and so did Mowgli -- with one exception. As soon as he was old enough to understand things, Bagheera told him that he must never touch cattle because he had been bought into the Pack at the price of a bull's life. 'All the jungle is thine,' said Bagheera, 'and thou canst kill everything that thou art strong enough to kill; but for the sake of the bull that bought thee thou must never kill or eat any cattle young or old. That is the Law of the Jungle.' Mowgli obeyed faithfully.
And he grew and grew strong as a boy must grow, who does not know that he is learning any lessons, and who has nothing in the world to think of except things to eat.
“Spike?”
“Hmm?”
“Who's your favorite character in The Jungle Book?” She knew, of course, since they had this conversation almost every time he read it to her, but she liked hearing it anyways.
He rolled his head on the recliner until his eyes met hers. “You know who. Now hush an' lemme read.”
“Pleeease.” Okay, so sometimes she had to resort to begging like a little kid, but when she saw his lips twitch, she knew she'd won. Besides, she was pretty sure he enjoyed the game almost as much as she did.
Spike closed the book, keeping one finger in it to mark their place. “'S Bagheera. He's got more power than Shere Khan, but he uses it right an' he tries to teach Mowgli so he's ready for the confrontation. He don't go about tryin' to show off how badass he is, but he's respected just the same.”
She thought about that as he went back to reading, both about what Spike said about not showing off, and about how Kipling described Bagheera, as a killer in the night that let a boy tag along with him, and decided that he was actually a lot like Spike. Maybe that was why she liked him, and also why she liked The Jungle Book so much - it didn't try to teach her anything or warn her about monsters, like a lot of other books did. It accepted that there were killers out there, and that sometimes you had to kill to stay alive, and it didn't seem to have a problem showing killers being gentle and good as well as dangerous.
Bagheera stretched himself at full length and half shut his eyes. 'Little Brother' said he, 'feel under my jaw.'
Mowgli put up his strong brown hand, and just under Bagheera's silky chin, where the giant rolling muscles were all hid by the glossy hair, he came upon a little bald spot.
'There is no one in the jungle that knows that I, Bagheera, carry that mark -- the mark of the collar; and yet, Little Brother, I was born among men, and it was among men that my mother died -- in the cages of the King's Palace at Oodeypore. It was because of this that I paid the price for thee at the Council when thou wast a little naked cub. Yes, I too was born among men. I had never seen the jungle. They fed me behind bars from an iron pan till one night I felt that I was Bagheera, the Panther, and no man's plaything, and I broke the silly lock with one blow of my paw, and came away; and because I had learned the ways of men, I became more terrible in the jungle than Shere Khan. Is it not so?'
Spike's voice softened as he read about Bagheera's captivity, and Dawn wondered if maybe there wasn't another reason he identified with the panther. Both predators, powerful and fearsome, both caged against their will until they escaped, and both marked for the rest of their lives by their captors. Did Spike hope that maybe someday the chip would come out and, like Bagheera, he would become more terrible in his own jungle than any others?
It hardly seemed possible that her friend and tutor, who could speak at least four languages that she was aware of, explain Shakespeare's monologues so she understood them, and correct her paper on the Blackfoot and Sioux tribes, harbored that kind of deadly yearning. Deep inside, though, Dawn knew it was there, just as she felt sure Mowgli knew of the hatred Bagheera almost surely had for all men. But if that was the case, then why had Bagheera saved Mowgli's life... and why had Spike endured torture to save hers?
'Yes," said Mowgli; "all the jungle fear Bagheera -- all except Mowgli.'
'Oh, thou art a man's cub,' said the Black Panther, very tenderly; 'and even as I returned to my jungle, so thou must go back to men at last, -- to the men who are thy brothers, -- if thou art not killed in the Council.'
'But why -- but why should any wish to kill me?' said Mowgli.
'Look at me,' said Bagheera; and Mowgli looked at him steadily between the eyes. The big panther turned his head away in half a minute.
'That is why' he said, shifting his paw on the leaves. 'Not even I can look thee between the eyes, and I was born among men, and I love thee, Little Brother. The others they hate thee because their eyes cannot meet thine, because thou art wise; because thou hast pulled out thorns from their feet -- because thou art a man.'
'I did not know these things,' said Mowgli, sullenly; and he frowned under his heavy black eyebrows.
Dawn listened quietly as Spike kept reading, building to Mowgli's confrontation of Shere Khan, but she couldn't stop thinking about Bagheera's insistence that Mowgli return to live with the humans that had captured him. He'd obviously loved Mowgli - after all, he'd taught him and shared with him, but in the end, he watched Mowgli leave. She was suddenly filled with a deep sadness for both cat and vampire, each abandoned in their own ways by the people they cared about.
"Dawn?" Spike used her name so rarely that hearing it from him now made her blink and turn to look at him. "What's wrong, Bit?"
"Nothing," she lied, somehow doubting she could explain about him and Bagheera and Mowgli without sounding like some stupid sentimental girl.
The blond set the book aside and pushed himself out of the recliner, then came to kneel in front of her. "Then why are you cryin'?" he asked gently.
Reaching up, she found to her surprise that her cheeks were wet. She hadn't been aware that she'd started crying, and she doubted Spike would appreciate the tears being for him, seeing as how he still clung to his whole evil vampire image, so she just shook her head and said, "It's nothing." When he gave her a skeptical look, she resorted to her fallback excuse. "Just hormones. You know... female stuff."
Spike swallowed hard, his face flattening just like Mr Harvey's always did when she used that excuse to get out of gym. Further proof that all men were the same, whether alive or dead, she supposed. "Uh... right. Want me to go back to readin', then?"
Wiping her eyes, Dawn smiled at him and nodded. "Yes, please."
He caught hold of her hand and squeezed, then went back to his chair and picked the book up. Instead of continuing with the fight between Mowgli and Shere Khan, though, he skipped ahead to Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. Dawn leaned her head back against the couch and closed her eyes, letting his low, soothing voice wash over her as he read about the courageous mongoose who fought so valiantly to protect his humans. Kind of like Spike, actually...