Prologue

The stench of decay permeated the air, lodging itself in Dawn's nostrils causing her nose to wrinkle. Her long slender fingers clung to an old sleeping bag, a duffel bag over her shoulder as she followed her sister wordlessly through the cemetery. Her eyes raked over the names on the tombstones, repeating them over in her mind, holding tightly to every drop of Sunnydale she could. She tried not to think of the fear, the overwhelming sense of dread that filled her to the point she was positive Buffy could feel it vibrate off of her skin.

She stopped a few feet behind Buffy, memorizing the strong lines of the crypt. She knew where they were going; she knew the reasons even if she didn't understand why. Dawn thought about asking her as Buffy threw their belongings into three small bags. She watched as Buffy left behind her favorite skirt, the one that she bought with Willow on that day trip to San Diego, the one she never let Dawn wear, to make room for their mom's smelly old bathrobe. And as Dawn watched her sister so carefully tuck the pale blue fabric inside her own duffel she knew not to ask. Sometimes there were no explanations.

Buffy paused at the heavy door before opening it, desperation painted in her hazel eyes. The words, "Learn to knock, Slayer," were tossed out in a familiar British accent before Buffy nodded her head, ushering Dawn inside.

Whatever rant Spike was about to go on seemed to die when he saw Dawn standing amidst the dirt of his crypt carrying her sleeping bag. "What's this all about then? Little family sleepover? Gotta tell you I’m all out of popcorn so you better go take this over to another one of your girlie mates."

Buffy approached him, her voice low as if trying not to tell Dawn what she already knew. "We're leaving."

"A holiday then? Well have fun, don't forget to write." Spike grabbed Buffy's arm trying to usher her to the door. It was too painful, this, just being around her. The emotion that rose every time he saw her was enough to choke him. He couldn't take her just popping in and out of his world. When she was gone he longed for her, his ears burned for the sound of her voice, even the most cutting remarks. Yet when she was there it was worse. He could barely keep from spilling his heart at her feet despite that he knew she would trample over it.

Buffy wrenched her arm free of Spike's grasp, oblivious to the spark of pain it caused. "We are leaving Sunnydale." Her hazel eyes flicked over her sister standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, arms crossed around her red sleeping bag. "I can't protect Dawn here. I have to get her some place safe."

"Does Glory-?"

Buffy shook her head. "Not yet. But it's just a matter of time. I'm not waiting until she does. I have to make sure Dawn is okay."

Spike nodded in understanding. "Don't want to be a sitting duck. I get that. But why the sudden romp over here? Feelin' a bit nostalgic, Slayer?"

Dawn eyed her sister, watching as her muscles twitched beneath the surface of her skin, in what she guessed was an attempt not to dust Spike where he stood. As it was her eyes grew dark, and her voice lost all of its softness. "Don't even go there, Spike." Buffy warned. She lowered her voice again. "If you want to go with us... well it would mean a lot to Dawn."

The vamp's blue eyes snaked back and forth between the Summers' sisters before coming to rest on Buffy. "Somehow I don't think the Scooby Gang would be too fond of that idea, pet."

With her gaze firmly planted on the ground Buffy admitted, "They're not coming, they don't even know..." Her eyes rose to meet Spike's, hazel and sapphire fires burning against each other. "You're the only one who knows." She sighed deeply, swallowing down tears that pricked her eyes. "If they knew... They would just end up hurt. It's better this way."

Spike looked to the brunette for confirmation. Dawn shot an annoyed glance his way. "So are you coming or not?"

It didn't take but a minute before he had thrown some clothes into a faded black denim bag and was walking beside Buffy out of the crypt muttering something about "borrowing a bloody car".

Dawn followed behind, hand grazing the cool marble of the headstone as they walked.

"Dawn, don't dawdle." Buffy's sharp voice sliced through the thick night.

"Coming..." Dawn called over her shoulder, trying to keep her tone as normal as possible. She took one last glance, imprinting the name Dorris Robertson in her mind, her last mental token of her life in Sunnydale.
 

Chapter One


"Where is she?" Buffy's concerned eyes looked out the large window of their apartment, being careful to hold the heavy drapery close to her skin, causing only a miniscule amount of sunlight to splash on the floor. She didn't even think of it, didn't notice it for the kind thoughtful gesture it was. It was just simply a habit, born out of two years living with a creature of the night.

Spike yawned; a hand running through his rumbled bleached locks, as he walked from the small kitchen, mug of freshly warmed blood in his cold hand. "Bit'll be here soon. She knows the rules." He assured the blonde as she let go of the curtain and sat across from him at the small kitchen table.

It was a tiny table, seating only four at most, with a smooth oak surface and white painted legs. There was nothing really special about that table with matching chairs but truth be known it was his favorite thing in the apartment. It wasn't so much the table really as the times spent at it, rushed mornings of getting Dawn off to school followed by a quiet cup of coffee with Buffy as they either went over bills, or read the paper, or just simple sat quietly and enjoyed each others company. Lunch never meant much to him, Buffy was normally at her job, selling dresses and the like to impossibly thin women, and Dawn was at classes giving the vamp time to catch up on his beauty rest and tidy up a bit before the Summer's girls came home. But dinner was always an event, talking, giggling, and fighting over a home cooked meal, almost like a real family.

A family, he rarely let himself think of it, if the thought popped in his mind he would quickly dispel it as if afraid to jinx the happiness he had found. While it was true Buffy didn't return his affections, there were moments, tiny things that overwhelmed him with joy. Like this past Christmas when she had given him and autographed Sex Pistols poster already framed and matted to hang in his bedroom. Granted it was just a Christmas present but that she had taken the time to think of what he would like, that meant more than he could say.

Buffy sighed breaking the silence "It's just-" She stopped, she had no real reason to be worried, but still the dread washed over her. It wasn't the first time it had happened, no, the tidal wave of panic had struck many times since they had left Sunnydale, since they had created a whole new life in suburban Ohio. It was to be expected, Spike would tell her, that running from one crazy hell-bitch could make anyone a little skittish, but they were safe. And as much as Buffy hated to admit it Spike had always been right. Still it didn't make the worry dissolve.

Spike took a long sip of crimson life before finally diving in. "Okay Summers, what's got you lookin' so blue?"

She shrugged her thin shoulder, her short cut hair brushing them. "I don't even know anymore. Just got to thinking..." She paused hazel eyes meeting blue. Suddenly the irony of her life made her chuckle. Spike lifted an eyebrow at her outburst. " If someone had told be two years ago I would be living with you in a three bedroom apartment I would have recommend they go see Dr. Phil." She explained.

Spike smiled to himself. "Funny how life works out isn't it?"

"Hilarious."

He didn't know what to say to that, wasn't even sure how it was meant, two years under the same roof and he still couldn't always read her. So the blonde vampire stood, and stretched. "Well I better get showered up a bit, Brownie's bound to be home soon, probably with one of her girly mates. I swear they travel in packs since..." He stopped letting the sentence fall off, ashamed mixing with guilt for having mentioned it.

"Since Ashley died." Buffy finished quietly. "I noticed." Then the soft hurt faded and she picked up Spike's empty mug, busing herself by loading dishes into the dishwasher, refusing to think of that young girl with green eyes that she was too late to save. "While you're in the shower, I'll go ahead and start dinner."

"You sure?" He questioned a bit surprised, Buffy wasn't much of a chef, and she knew it. "It's my night after all."

"Don't worry about it." She forced a meek smile as she closed the now loaded dishwasher and started it. "I need to something to distract me." Spike shifted his weight, still unsure, seeing his hesitation she added, "It's just pasta. I'll be fine. Now go."

As soon as she heard the familiar sound of the shower Buffy hurried back to the window. The sun was almost completely gone from the sky, leaving behind its pink and rainbow hues. Buffy frowned. She knew she was probably being foolish, but she couldn't help but think something wasn't right.


*****


"I told you so!" Buffy preached to Spike as he hastily opened the windows of the apartment, attempting to air out the smoke from the sauce that Buffy had let burn when she got distracted by Dawn's absence. "I told you that something was wrong! And you were all like 'Brownie knows the rules, she just out with her friends. Tra la la la.' And what was with that anyway?"

"With what?" Spike asked as he angrily slipped into his duster, flipping the collar down in an annoyed fashion.

"Calling her Brownie." Buffy replied; hands firmly planted on her hips.

"It's her name isn't it?" Spike answered distractedly as he searched through a small basket that they kept on the counter, eyes fighting for a glimpse of the silver keys among the bits of paper with phone numbers scribbled across them, Buffy's silver hope earrings, and Dawn's seemingly never ending supply of gum.

He didn't even think of his reply until Buffy stepped directly in front of him, her tiny body vibrating with anger. "It is not her name." She managed through clenched teeth, grounding out every word.

He rolled his eyes, attempting to reach past her to the now visible keys but she smacked his hand away. Spike stopped and sighed. "Shag me, Buffy! What do you want me to say? It's not fair. I know that and you know that. It's not fair that Dawn had to change or her name, or that you can't say you're her sister. It's not fair that we have to do that damn veil spell every bloody full moon just to keep Red and her hocus pocus from finding us like they almost did last time. And I bloody hate being Will again but it's what we have to do to keep her safe." He softened as he watched tears filling her stormy eyes. "It's what we choose to do."

Sometimes he thought she might break, some days when he watched her crawl exhausted into bed after a long night of patrol only to wake up in the morning to start another day, packing Dawn lunch, putting on the coffee, starting a load of laundry. Once in awhile after she thought everyone to be a sleep he could hear her cry, soft mewings of loss and sadness, that seemed to pour endless from her. It was on those nights that he would lie awake in his bed, a thin wall separating them, and he would memorize the cracks in the ceiling as he fought himself. Part of him just wanted to go in there and pick her up and hold her, another part, the self preserving one, knew that would led to a dusty end. So he would wait until the sound trickled off and her breathing became relaxed and even, and only then would he enter her room. He always thought the rocker she had picked out was hideously ugly, but when she told him it was just like on her grandmother owned he caved in, and it was lucky he did, for it provided the perfect place to watch over her. And he would sit awake, chasing away the nightmares, only to tiptoe out before she woke. He didn't know why he did it, there was just this voice inside that was afraid once she broke she might never be Buffy again.

Tonight the same feeling swelled within him, as he watched her try to swallow back the tears that threatened to choke her. Finally she let them fall with a sob as she admitted, "I miss my name."

It was, in reality, a silly thing to be so upset about. The loss of her friends, childhood possessions, her home, those she could take, but when Spike had insisted that they change their names she felt as though someone had stuck a knife in her gut. In a world so unfamiliar from the life she left behind her name was her one constant, the only connection to her mom now that she was gone, and it felt as though she were ripping away her identity. She knew he was right, already their had been some close calls. They could choose their own, that had been the deal, Spike settled for the familiar with Will and Buffy did the same taking Summer as a first name but Dawn had decided she wanted an interesting name, something no one else had, thus Brownie was born. Buffy had pleaded with her to change it, but by then it was too late, they were already settled in, and Dawn, now Brownie, was thriving in school. They were just names, just letters printed on pieces of false identity, but to Buffy, who insisted real names be used at home, they were so much more.

"Oh god." Buffy pushed herself back from where she had been crying on Spike's chest, dampening his black shirt with her tears. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to. You should be out looking for Dawn. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, pet." Spike said, titling his head as he tried to search her eyes as she furiously swiped at her tears. She backed up a step and he wrinkled his brow. "You coming?"

"I can't..."

"Of course you can." Spike reassured her. "Think I'd date a girl, much less live with one if she didn't care if me little sis went missing?"

"You don't have a little sister." Buffy reminded him with a smile. It was an arrangement Dawn had cooked up, one that had actually worked to their benefit. Spike posed as Dawn's older brother and guardian. None of Angel's little spies would even think to check out a brother registering his little sister for school, no, they were on the look out for two sisters. And Buffy? She was Spike's live-in girlfriend, a situation if reversed would have had Buffy clucked at but as it was so many woman were smitten with the older brother trying to do right by his sister that they often looked the other way. Sometimes even commenting on how sweet it was that his girlfriend was so interested in Dawn's schoolwork.

"Well right now I do." Spike commented, jangling the car keys. "As well as a very sweet and concerned girlfriend." That was all Buffy need as she went for the door and led the search.


*****


An hour and a half later they had finally resorted to questioning her school friends, so far they had provided nothing useful except for quiet comments about her seeming kinda sad since Ashley. The last one on their list was Megan, a sweet timid girl with mousy brown hair, Dawn seemed to prefer the company of the bouncy Kendals and Britneys but was known on occasion to catch a movie with her. When her mom called her downstairs, she stood with a worried and guilty expression in a pair of pajamas covered with Kermit the Frog.

"I promised." She complained as she shifted in her seat.

"I know." Buffy spoke in a gentle tone, taking the girl's hand in her own. "But we are just worried about her. We don't want anything to happen to D- to Brownie."

"It's important." Spike tacked on kneeling beside the girl's armchair. "Please, Megan, I need to know where my sister is, you can understand that can't you?"

She could understand that, she just hoped Brownie would forgive her, it really wasn't fair for her to have a brother with such piercing blue eyes. "She said she need to take off for a few days. Clear her head. But don't tell her I told you! " She pleaded with frightened eyes.

"Don't worry, luv." He soothed. "We won't. She say anything more than that?"

Megan shook her head and said no, and also that she hoped they found her and that Brownie would be alright. And knowing that they had learned everything that she knew they hastily left.

"Well that's just great." Buffy complained, as they backed out of Megan's driveway. "Back at square one. I swear I am gonna ring her neck when I find her." She made a motion of strangling someone between her hands before suddenly looking up, confused. "Hey you missed our turn. Where are you going?"

"To find Dawn." He gritted out, steering wheel pressing harshly into his hands as he gripped it tightly.

"Oh of course, you know where she's at! And tonight has just been a little adventure, sorta like a scavenger hunt!" Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Don't know where she at." Spike admitted. "But I know where she's going."

"Oh and where is that exactly?"

His nostrils flared, anger humming off his skin, as he turned on to the highway. "Where else? Sunnydale."
 

Chapter Two


Beams of light flitted down to where Buffy’s eyes were pinned to a discarded Snickers wrapper. She was stretched out across the back seat of their Honda Passport pretending to sleep though no one was fooled. Spike was driving, his fingers drumming rhythmically against the steering wheel, chords of Aerosmith’s Crazy playing softly from a local radio station. The SUV sped quickly down the highway, passing and swerving in and out of trucks causing Buffy’s stomach to clench. This was not the steady lullaby rocking of car trips spent visiting her cousin Celica. This was a frantic, erratic roller coaster ride complete with sharp turns and high speeds.

They had been too hasty, lessons Buffy felt she had learned were forgotten in the panic of trying to find Dawn. She had done this before, gotten into a car, leaving loose ends untied, and this time neither of them had even stopped home to pack a bag, or double check the windows were locked, or leave Dawn a note, just in case.

She began trying to read the ingredients on the wrapper, as lights quickly whizzed by, to distract herself from the lingering doubts about Spike’s sudden assumption. It seemed too drastic; Dawn always went a little far but to head back to Sunnydale? After all this time, the sacrifices, and when things were finally fitting together why go back? Buffy refused to let her mind wander down other avenues, she wouldn’t think of the dangers that could have befallen her little sister and with some failing self restraint kept her mind from Glory.

She felt the car slow, and raised herself up on one elbow to look out the window. “Gonna be getting light soon.” She sat up, her eyes going to the rearview mirror, out of habit she supposed, but it was only her reflection looking back at her. She nodded, pulling loose her mussed ponytail and fixing it. "I’ll try and find us a decent place to crash. Doesn’t look like they have the best selection around here.” Spike commented, as his eyes racked up and down the street dotted with sleazy motels, places he wished Buffy would never have to see, let alone stay in.

Crawling over the seat and plopping back into the passenger side Buffy rested a comforting hand on his arm. “Not exactly being picky girl here.” The intimate gestured shocked him as his head swiveled to look at her. "Just a shower and if we could keep the rats to a minimum... “She added sheepishly as she quickly removed her hand, setting her palm flat against the leg of her jeans trying not to think of his hopeful expression and the cool muscles in his arm.

Feeling like an idiot he stared straight ahead at the road, making sure his face remained carefully blank, giving no clue as to what he was thinking. Buffy's little slip was just that. Spike had bigger problems weighing on his bleached head. He was worried about Dawn, and Buffy too, for that matter. She looked pale, and hadn’t eaten anything in hours. He hadn’t been human in a long time, but he figured she must be hungry by now. "Here we are.” Spike announced pulling the vechile to a stop in the parking lot of the most decent looking hotel he could find. It was still a stink hole but it would have to do. "Not exactly the Ritz but I'll bet it will have your shower."

Buffy got out first, stretching her legs, wordlessly eyeing the hotel. The sign in front declared vacancy and she could see why. The white doors were chipped and the stucco wall, once a bright sherbet, had faded making it look distinctly run down. It wasn't the worse place she had stayed, they had stayed in much worse that first month on the run, but it still gave her a sick feeling. She had thought those days were past her and yet here she was.

"Gonna go in and get us a room. Why don't you move your legs a bit?" Spike spoke up from behind her, hands clenching uselessly to the soft leather of his duster. He knew what she was thinking about, how could she think of anything but those crappy motels in shady spots of different towns? Shame swelled within him when he thought of those first few weeks on the road, the crappy food and worse lodging, the quiet refusal of Buffy to indulge in anything when he actually had money, knowing full well it was ill gotten gains. Spike wanted to say something to her, something to help ease the sting of memories for both of them, but his tongue was thick and his mind blank. With a small sigh and a roll of his eyes at himself as he headed into the lobby, the least he could do was haggle a good price.

Buffy sighed, waiting while Spike argued with the manager over the price of the room. It all seemed so unimportant. She let her mind go blank, felt herself go numb, however momentarily. It was something she’d gotten good at over the years. She floated somewhere above herself, watching with a detached interest. Only one pesky thought refused to go. One thing that kept her from attaining that level of practiced apathy……Dawn.


*****


She sat on the bus rapidly putting miles between herself and him. How could she have been so stupid? Why did she think he would want her? He never did before. All he was to her was money in a card. A beautiful, feminine card. It was like salt in an open wound for her mother, seeing that card, knowing his “secretary” picked it out. Now she was gone, and he was still alive. Dawn hated him for that. All that hate came back, standing on his doorstep, his latest “wife” answering the door.

“Oh, we don’t want any cookies, sweetie.”

Dawn had stared in amazement at this twenty-something, barely older than Buffy.

“Jessica, who is it?”

Dawn forced a smile on her face. “Thanks, anyways.” Then she had run. Her fears catching up no matter how hard her shoes pounded the pavement. Pound, pound, pound. Was that her feet? Her heart? Her blood? Images swirled in her confused mind. Why couldn’t she save her? Dawn had warned her…but was that enough? On and on she went, heedless of where she was going. She ran until she was in front of the Greyhound bus station.

Pulling out the last of her money, she handed it to the concerned looking woman behind the counter, her hands trembling slightly.

“Honey, are you—“

“One way ticket, please.” Dawn interrupted her.

The woman frowned, unsure if she should sell a ticket to this woman/child. “Where to?”

The girl smiled, a frighteningly panicked smile, bereft of reason or rationality. “Sunnydale.”


*****


She fumbled for a second, before finally getting the key in the lock, juggling two large paper sacks. For a second she longed for and electronic card before remembering how frustrating those were too. The gears clicked into places and she tapped once, hard on the aluminum door, warning the bleach blonde vampire that lay inside the drape drawn motel room.

"Honey, I'm home." Buffy called as she quickly opened the door, stepped inside and leaned her back against it, blocking the harmful sunrays outside.
Spike, who moments before had been wearing a hole in the all ready thread bare carpet by his anxious pacing, was now stretched across the bed furthest from the door, nonchalantly flipping through TV channels. Having heard the jiggle of keys and the familiar light tread of her step, he had hurled himself across the room, attempting to feign disinterest. The mask slipped however as he watched her enter, just a split moment of sunlight catching in her golden hair, making her look for all the world like an angel. It was the briefest moment, Buffy had been quick to shut the door to prevent her companion from frying up like a slice of bacon, but Spike memorized it, tucking it away safely in his memory. Her eyes had dark circles below them and wore a weary expression but her lips curled into the tiniest wisp of a smile so faint most would not see it. Yet Spike saw it. He always saw her.

Buffy sat the bags down on the small dresser, rummaging through them found the packet of blood that had taken her more than an hour to track down and tossed to her roommate. “Oh, Honey, you baked.” Spike smirked, tearing open the plastic with his teeth.

“What can I say? O positive is my specialty.” Spike froze as soon as the words hit his ears. Despite his nose confirming what she had just said he stared in disbelief. Buffy could feel his eyes boring into her back yet refused to turn around, instead pulling out two candy bars from the bag.

“Buffy?” Spike implored. Human blood, he didn’t, they didn’t. It had been the only rule Buffy had been strict on. She kept pig’s blood, and cow’s blood nicely lined up in the fridge but if he so much as joked about biting a human, she would freeze him mercilessly. He fought to control his blood lust. Perhaps it was a test, something she had cooked up while they were driving, another hoop to jump through to prove his love. If it was, that was fine; he would jump through a million bloody hoops and go to the ends of the earth besides. He just had to know…

She shifted her weight, the candy bars being smashed as she gripped them too tightly. Slowly she lifted her face to stare straight ahead at the mirror in front of her, knowing that Spike could see her even if she wasn’t yet ready to face him. “I tried…” She began, guilt and anger, mixing with exhaustion causing her voice to shake, excuses coming quick but she swallowed them down. “It’s all I could get.”

Spike watched the emotions play over her face, self-hatred lingering on, her green eyes becoming hallow and faint. “I don’t have to…” He began, despite the gnawing need. “I can wait.” He said with a deceive tone.

Buffy turned quickly to face him, her shoulder length hair catching in the movement and bouncing against her neck. "It's not from... I can't believe you would even think that about me! Slayer, vampire nest, tons of bagged blood lying around, vampires go poof. I mean God! Like I would rip off a hospital! I can't believe you would think that I would..." She shook her head, grabbing up one of the paper bags and storming in to the bathroom.

Spike sat dumbfounded, as the door slammed shut. He wished he could tell her she was over reacting, that he knew she would never steal, let alone from a hospital. But truth was he had thought she had done exactly that, making him feel like a complete poof. He knew Buffy better than that.

For a moment he stared at the bag of blood, already opened and exposed. The local vamps must be pretty smart, Spike mused, soaking up the aroma. Probably setting up some sort of blood trade, that or else they were just a bunch of wankers that had pilfered it. Deciding it was most likely the later, Spike weighed his options. On one hand it wasn't exactly like it would be doing anyone any good. But on the other he had promised Buffy that first night as the sped down the highway heading away from Sunnydale in a stolen car that he wouldn't touch a drop of human blood, not even a lick.

A sigh born of frustration and self-loathing for clinging to a promise Buffy had obviously released him from escaped his lips. He stood and took the blood filled bag and tossed it into the waste can. A promise was a promise.


*****


The woman took the money from the girl’s shaking hands, counting it. “I’m sorry, but there isn’t enough money here to get you that far.” The lady smiled at her sympathetically.

Dawn looked at her, refusing to comprehend what she’d said. “Not enough?” She parroted, the dull shock in her voice obvious.

“Sweetie, do you need a place to stay?” The woman—Karen, her name tag said—asked her. “I don’t have any extra money, or I’d give it to you. But I can offer a warm bed for the night.”

Dawn looked at her. “How far can I get on what I’ve got?” She asked, trying to remain calm. How could she be out of money already? She had budgeted so carefully. Mentally she ticked off the money she had spent, the bus ticket to NYC had been more than she had expected but she should have been fine. There was lunch, a cheap salad at a fast food joint, and she had stocked up on junk food for the trip, but surely she there should have been enough to make it to Sunnydale... Then it hit her like a brick, the extra supplies for the locator spell.

One of the few things Dawn had packed that fateful night she and Buffy left Sunnydale had been the spell book Willow had left at the house. The first try to locate her father had ended up with yellow smoke and nothing more, but after purchasing some more supplies and trying again she had managed it. She suddenly felt very stupid, all that work, all of that money, spent on a man who could care less about her. Karen looked at her and Dawn added quickly. "Anywhere out West? Close to California so my fiancée won't have to drive so far..." The lie was quick and cool even if the clerk didn't buy a moment of it.

Karen looked disappointed. “Let me see.” She typed something into the computer. “Nevada. Maybe as far as Las Vegas.”

“I’ll take it.” Dawn said. She let her mind drift as Karen put her information into the computer, forged of course. She looked at her trembling body. Why was she still shaking? Was it from running…or something else? Suddenly she knew without a doubt she was working with a limited time schedule. She didn’t know how she knew, she just did. The pounding in her blood was getting louder, echoing through her ears, calling her back to Sunnydale. It drowned everything else out, making it hard to hear what Karen was saying to her.

“You’re all set. You have to switch buses once and there is a fueling stop but you should be there by tomorrow evening.” She smiled at the girl, hoping she’d be all right.

“Thanks.” Dawn said, mustering up a ghost of a smile.

Climbing on the bus, she tiredly chose a seat in the back, hoping no one would bother her. Closing her eyes, she slipped quietly off to sleep. I hope I make it in time, was her last conscious thought.

 

Chapter Three


Dawn shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. An annoying man behind her kept accidentally knocking the back of her seat with his knees. She wanted to say something or to kick him really hard, but she just turned to look outside the window, clutching her bag to her chest. Miles of pavement whizzed past, headlights and reflectors twinkling in the inky blackness. The swift steady movement of the bus was relaxing and the darkness played like a lullaby, wrapping her up like an infant. Her long legs ached from sitting and her stomach gnawed furiously at nothing. She wanted nothing more than to give herself over to slumber, but resisted. Dawn fought to keep her eyelids open as they grew heavier by the second. She knew what Buffy would say if Dawn were to fall asleep on a bus full of strangers. Then again, she knew what Buffy would say if she knew her little sister was on a bus heading for Vegas. She shrugged, figuring it was best not to add to the lecture she was sure to receive, by compounding it with a trip to the hospital or the police station.

Secretly, there was another reason for forcing herself to stay awake. Dawn knew something was wrong, something serious and frightening that scared her from closing her eyes for fear they would never open again. She had heard the saying “waking up dead” and always thought it was ridiculous. How could anybody “wake up” dead? But, God help her, that was exactly the way she felt. Of course she might be wrong. But watching Ashley die… No. Dawn pushed the thought from her head. She wouldn’t think about that now. She wouldn’t think about any of it now. She pressed her forehead to the pane, trying to soak it all in, the lights, the road, and the cars careening down the highway. People were traveling, going home, going to work, and just going. She couldn’t help but wonder if Buffy and Spike were among them. She swallowed the lump in her throat, blinking furiously. She missed them so much.


******


They were on the road again. They were always on the road. Another night spent in another seedy motel, no different from the first, with Spike sleeping all day; the occupants in the next room changing every hour. The rhythmic banging and manufactured moans were almost more than Buffy could bear. She was already wound tighter than a ball of string, and it was getting harder and harder to detach herself from emotion.

She glanced over at Spike, who seemed to be engrossed in his driving. It was his fault, Buffy decided. Looking so good, making her want…..probably not good to go down that road. She sighed, closing her eyes. Turning, she pressed her forehead against the cool glass. It was going to be a long trip.

Spike glanced at Buffy out of the corner of his eye. Did she have to turn in the seat like that? Didn’t she know what a perfect view she was giving him of—he abruptly turned his eyes back to the road. Better not let his thoughts stray that way. Still…he looked at her tempting bottom once more, making sure Buffy didn’t notice. Letting his mask slip momentarily, he smiled.

“What are you smiling about?” Buffy half asked, half demanded.

Spike looked at her, startled. Then, against his will, his eyes slid down to her backside again. “Me? Nothing!” He said shrilly.

She followed his eyes down. Her mouth opened in surprise, and her cheeks flushed red. “Spike!” She squeaked. “You are such a perv!” She scrambled into the backseat. “Do NOT look back here under any circumstances!”

“Well, you can’t really blame me, pet. Shoving it in my face like that. I can’t help but look, you know!”

“Shoving it in—” Buffy broke off, seeing the smile on his face. He started to laugh, and then she did too. Just like that the tension was gone. Rolling on her side she smiled at the back of his head. "Wake me when we get to a hotel."

"You mean you don't wanna keep pointing out all the license plates?" Spike teased her about the game she had suggested earlier.

With closed eyes Buffy spoke. "You really should have played. It's fun."

"Doesn't sound like a good time to me."

"Well," Buffy huffed. "You don't know what a good time is."

Spike didn't offer a rebuttal; instead he caught a glimpse of her in the rearview mirror curled up on her side like a contented cat. He knew what a good time was, quiet moments like this. A smile from Buffy was rare, and a real smile? Those were almost nonexistent. He could count on one hand the times she’d given him a smile like that, and he treasured every one.

*****


The lights were blindingly bright as Dawn sat enthralled by it all, waiting for the bus to pull to a stop. The whole city twinkled; neon colors and noise filled the streets. Sidewalks packed with people at even this late hour. It just was so alive.

Her foot tapped impatiently as they got stuck in a line of buses unloading. She wanted out, she wanted to explore. Dawn had never been to Vegas before. Buffy had gotten to go, she had a skating competition, but Dawn was too young. She still remembered the disappointment about being left at home, even if it never actually happened. There was a nagging gnat of a thought that told her not to linger, but the youngest Summers pushed it down. She was in Vegas; Sunnydale could wait a day or two… She was probably wrong anyhow.


*****


Two hours later, Spike pulled into the parking lot of a Holiday Inn. It was late, a little after midnight. His eyes were tired, straining to read the sign that advertised two nights for the price of one. He knew they should stay on the road. Knew that they needed to get to Dawn, but he was already beginning to lose strength. It had been over two days since he had fed and then it had been pig’s blood, with no real strength to it. He would have to find some time to discreetly slip out to a butcher's without Buffy noticing. Didn’t want her reading too much into him not drinking the blood she had handed to him, a promise was a promise was all. He reached back and shook Buffy gently. “Luv? We’re here.”

Buffy sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. The first words out of her mouth were: “We can’t afford to stay here!”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Yes, we can. It’ll only be about sixty-five dollars, and that’s for two nights. Can we go inside now?”

Buffy looked at him, and then proceeded wordlessly to the office. Spike shook his head and followed.

"Spike! Why did you pay for two nights?!” Buffy hissed at him as they walked out of the manager’s office. “We are supposed to be looking for my sister! This is NOT some little vacation!"

Spike waited a minute to answer. He couldn't very well tell her he was getting weaker by the minute, and he was only standing up straight by sheer willpower.

"Buffy, luv, we don't even know where Dawn went. It's a pretty safe bet that she's headed for Sunnydale. We can't keep going non-stop like this! You haven't eaten hardly anything, I haven't-" He broke off, realizing what he'd almost let slip.

"I haven't been sleeping well." He covered smoothly. "We need to recharge our batteries. If you are going to fight your sister back into hiding, you had better be at your best! You Summers' women are known for your stubbornness!"

Buffy looked at him, thinking. She was pretty beat, and hungry. She touched her hair. She really wanted it dyed. She smiled. "Alright, Spike, you win. But just this once. After all: me Slayer, you Vampire? We should be able to go like the energizer bunny!"

"Well, if you want-" Spike began with a leer.

"SO not what I meant!" Buffy interrupted.

Within twenty minutes, they were in the room standing on opposite sides of the only bed. They stared down at it, then at each other.

“You know we aren’t going to—I mean—we can’t—Spike?!” Buffy finished, frustrated.

“Relax, pet. I promise I won’t try anything. If I do, you can kick me out of the bed, okay?” Spike said soothingly.

Buffy looked at him, chewing her lip nervously. She wanted to fight about it but what was the point? She couldn't fix the hotel being out of double beds. “Okay.” She said finally. “But if you do try anything, I'm gonna kick you extra, extra hard in the.... Umm..." She blushed slightly, unable to articulate, feeling for all the world like she was back in middle school. "Well, I will kick you somewhere it will hurt!" And with that she turned and rushed into the bathroom to take her shower.

Spike stood for a moment baffled and slightly amused at her antics before collapsing on the bed. With a shaking arm he managed to prop himself up as he fumbled with the remote. He didn't care what was on the telly, but he didn't want Buffy to think anything was different. Nonchalant, that was the key, he might tease her but he didn't mention how much he loved her, and she did her part by acting as if she didn't know. He would find a way to feed later, for now he could play normal.


*****


The air was hot and dry attacking Dawn's lungs, making it difficult to breathe. She held on the rail as she descended the steps, soaking in the city. There were people everywhere, laughing with each other, embracing, lovers, friends, family. She alone stood apart with no one to greet her. Her stomach grumbled again, another reminder that she had spent the last two days living off junk food she could sneak into her bag at stops. She followed the crowds out of the bus station, trying to blend in. Once the herds of people thinned, getting into cars or haling cabs, she could see this wasn't the best place to be alone at. This wasn't the glitzy strand she had seen on her way in, no they had dumped her about ten miles south of that. The sidewalks were narrow and littered with advertisements for strip clubs and all you can eat buffets, a cruel joke on her sad state of affairs. She briefly entertained the thought of eating and then sneaking out the bathroom window to avoid the tab, but decided against it. She wanted to remain as anonymous as possible, not bring more attention to herself.

She trudged onward, arms wrapped tightly around her bag, goosebumps dotting her neck despite the heat. Her mind raced in circles, now what? Where was her great plan now? She hadn't even given much thought to how she would get from Las Vegas to Sunnydale. God, how could she have been so stupid? She wanted to sit down on the curb and cry, to just give up right then and there. The exhilaration of being in Vegas had vanished as quickly as chips on the blackjack table. Spotting a tiny chapel she sat on a green painted bench just outside the door.

A payphone sat a few feet from her, hanging against the white washed brick of the small building and Dawn thought it looked like a nagging mother forcing her to do what she hated the most. She didn't want to call home, if Buffy answered the phone what would she even say? 'Hi I'm in Vegas. Can you come and pick me up? By the way, can you wire me money for food, too?' Yeah that would go over real well. If Spike answered it would be different. He wouldn't ask stupid questions, he would just make sure she got what she needed. Problem was, she couldn't be sure.

Of course there was always Giles or Willow. Sunnydale was a few hours away sure but it wasn't exactly a long distance road trip. She ticked off the numbers in her head; they came slowly, a fuzzy haze of time making them difficult to remember at first. She repeated them out loud, rearranging digits till it sounded correct and then stood. It wasn't the best of plans but it wasn't as if she had a lot of options. Picking up the dirty receiver she dialed 1-800-COLLECT and waited for the operator to connect her, praying that her little nagging feeling of something not quite right, was wrong.

 

Chapter Four

Buffy stood in front of the mirror. The shower had felt good, the warm water pounding her body, easing the ache in her muscles from doing nothing but sitting in a car for hours on end. She felt useless and hated being unable to do anything proactive. Spike drove, and she sat and played Robin to his Batman, a role that she fully disliked. She was like a caged tiger, pacing relentlessly, unable to slay freely. She pulled at her wet hair gently, the gold showing, even through the natural darkening of the water. She searched her reflection for some signs of change, some visible trace that she was different than when she had left but there were none to be found. She was still Buffy.

Spike lay back on the bed, trying not to imagine Buffy in the shower. Of course, he was failing miserably. Her wet, supple body…warm water spraying it, steam rising around her. He groaned. Soddin' torturer that's what she was. The door opened, and there stood Buffy in nothing but a towel, dripping wet. Spike swallowed hard, trying to remain impassive. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from her.

“I need to dye my hair." The words were calm and quiet but Buffy looked anything but. Her fingers played nervously with the edge of the towel, causing it to inch ever so slightly up her body. Spike followed its rise with his eyes not really hearing her. "And I need to do it now.”

Spike blinked. Had she actually just said that to him? Slowly he began processing her words, brain fumbling out of a lust induced state of soft lines and colliding with the sharp reality of her meaning. And he understood, perhaps more than she did. The hair didn't matter, but the wrapping did. Change should be something concrete, definite, something with loud crashes and symbols so that everyone could tell. But it wasn't, it was quiet, tiptoeing over window ledges, worming its way into hearts and minds, till the world looks different, but only to you. She knew she had changed, reluctantly, and out of a necessity, but she had a woken from this dream-like state different. And she needed the wrapping to match, so that they could look at her and know this wasn't the same girl, this wasn't the Buffy they knew. “Umm... okay, pet. Just let me run to the store…” He started to rise, praying that in his depleted state he wouldn't wobble in front of her. She had just presented him with a golden opportunity to track down a butcher's shop without arising any suspicions.

"No need." Buffy spoke gathering one of the brown paper sacks that they had been traveling around with. Her long slender hand reached inside and felt through the candy bars and discarded wrappers and brought out a small box of brown dye.

"When did you get that?" Spike questioned a bit too harshly, upset that his chance to feed had been snatched away.

"That first morning." She commented quietly as she sat on the bed. She held out the box to him. "You gonna help me?"

Spike stood on weakened knees, feeling somewhat trapped. "Can't you manage on your own?"

"Do I look like the Best Cuts hair girl?"

"Just saying I don't have a lot of practice with this sorta thing." He took the box in his hands. "Don't want you getting all dusty happy if you turn out all splotchy looking. Think you’d probably be better at it than me, is all. Not like you haven't played ‘horse-of-a-different-color’ with your mane."

"I have only had highlights!" Buffy huffed defensively. "And they were done by a professional. And hey who are you to talk? Cuz that bleached color happens so often in nature..."

“Fine.” Spike rolled his eyes.

“What?” Buffy questioned as he glared at her. “I don’t want to get dye on my clothes.” She explained when he hadn’t moved.

Spike swallowed hard, struggling to see her as annoying and not adorable. His eyes began to wander down her exposed flesh, drinking in her long limbs before he forced his eyes to stare at the picture above the bed. “Got have dry hard… Err… I mean hair.”

Buffy rose, holding the towel tightly to her breasts causing the bottom edge to skim just below her ass as Spike silently cursed her, convinced she was doing this to him on purpose. “I saw one attached to the wall in the bathroom. “ She walked past him, the scent of freshly washed hair filling his nostrils. She turned and stood in the doorway to the bathroom, arms crossed over her chest. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Oh so now I’m the sink boy? I think not, dry your own hair, Slayer.”

“Fine. “ She sulked into the bathroom. “But if the back doesn’t get all dry then it is your fault.” She twisted her arms behind her head. “I can’t really reach it.”

Spike knew very well that Buffy could manage to dry her own hair. Part of him wanted to demand she stop treating him like an errand boy and yet he could resist the opportunity to be so close to her, no, near her. He was never close to her, no one was. He berated himself for the mental slip, repeating it over and over in his mind till the mental wounds would never mend. Buffy didn’t love him, Buffy didn’t love him, she didn’t, and she never would. “Give me the rutty thing.” He snatched the dryer out of her hand. She didn’t love him, still he would take would he could get.

He went to work quickly, the small cord being twisted and stretched as he worked the hot air across the back of her head trying not to notice how her skin on her arms became dotted with goosebumps or how her hair turned into spun gold as the heat stole the wetness away. There was an uneasy tension, his body rigid, her sitting too still, a tension that broke abruptly when Buffy laughed.

“What?” Spike questioned, trying in vain to hold on to his anger at being relegated to ‘hair-dyer’.

Buffy giggled again and pointed up. “It's the haunted blow dryer of the Holiday Inn.”

“If you expect me to laugh, you are out of your gourd.”

“Well you could make those little ‘woooo’ noises. Give it the right atmosphere. Bet we could sell tickets.”

“So that some Dracula flick watching bloke could figure out the little mirror trick and stake me? I think not.”

Buffy relaxed slightly the back of her head brushing ever so slightly against Spike’s toned stomach. The warmth filling the tiny bathroom was making her drowsy, and in her sleepy form her mind drifted to Dawn. She would look like her, well more like her anyhow. She imagined them standing next to each other, both brunettes, but a thought came barreling at her hard and fast that she might never see Dawn again. It was a hot fear that flew up from her stomach and caught in her throat, making it hard to swallow. She watched as the blow dryer moved across her hair in the mirror and she wanted to tell Spike everything. He was always there, this invisible quiet force that helped her get through the past two years, she wanted to tell him how afraid she was, how worried for herself as well as her sister. She had constructed her life around keeping Dawn safe, she had left her home, her friends, walked away from everything for Dawn. If something happened to her… No, she wouldn’t think of it. “He did have nice eyes.”

“Dracula? You have got to be kidding me! Bunch of glamours is all, smoke and mirrors.” He tossed the blow dryer down angrily, the short cord catching it before it hit the floor, leaving it dangling a few inches above the cool tile. He didn’t want to play this, he was struggling enough with normal, but playful forced banter? He could read her, she was like a soddin’ novel, and she was scared; she would be a moron if she wasn’t. “Done.” He strolled out of the bathroom, trying not to replay the slightly hurt and confused face Buffy had made at his display. She wasn’t the only one who was afraid.

Buffy sat for a moment before trailing after him. He was sitting in the bed, forcing his feet into his heavy boots. “Wanna tell me what that was about?”

“Not really.” He started to throw on his duster, hastily shoving his arms in the sleeves, completely absorbed in his anger.

"You're leaving?" Her voice didn't carry the angry tone that it normally did, instead it sounded small and child like.

"Not light yet." He commented casually though he was anything but. He didn't want to look at her, didn't want to see her needy and refusing help. He wanted to just walk out of that room, possibly walk out of her world forever. It had to be better than this. This emotional wringer she put him through daily. He wanted to, but he didn't. That wavering note in her voice left him no real option but to turn and face her.

She was perched on the edge of the bed, her dry golden hair just grazing her hunched shoulder, green eyes injured. She opened her mouth to speak. For the briefest instant she wanted to ask him to stay, stay forever, and then she flitted to the other extreme, wanting to yell at him to go and never come back. That's how it was with him. There was no middle ground. So she said nothing, thinking perhaps nothing was best after all.

Spike sighed, his chipping black fingernails running through his bleached mane in frustration. He more than wanted to leave, he needed to. He needed blood for starters, and he needed some air. Buffy was suffocating him, so close yet so far. He gaze went from Buffy's hurt face, to the door, and back to Buffy before he shrugged off his jacket. His mind berating him for being the great poof he was. He prepared the dye, and wordlessly went to work on her head.

Confused by his sudden change in attitude, Buffy sat quietly, waiting for him to break the silence. She was acutely aware of his nearness, his smell, and his hands massaging her scalp. His arm brushed her right breast lightly, and she shivered pleasurably. Her nipples hardened, and she hope fervently that he didn’t notice. This was torture, his closeness. Squeezing her legs together, she felt the moisture pooling there. She fervently hoped he would finish soon and contradictorily prayed it would never end.

Spike was doing his best to touch her as little as possible. This was torture. Every time he brushed against her, his pants became that much more uncomfortable. He ran his fingers around the nape of her neck, making sure he had gotten all of her hair. At her soft gasp, he almost groaned aloud. He redoubled his efforts on her hair, and suddenly got a whiff of her arousal. His nostrils flared, breathing her in deeply. His demon demanded that he take her, make her his, and ravage that sweet body till their scents mingled into a heady potion of possession. His possession, his mate, his lover. Swallowing hard, he fought for control, nearly giving in to his primal side. Finally, he was able to step away from her.

“All done, luv.” Spike said, clearing his throat.

“How long do I have to let it sit?” Buffy asked, reaching up to feel her hair. Unknown to her, her towel had slipped down, affording Spike a look at one rounded breast.

Spike’s mouth went dry, the demon inside him raging. “Uhh…” he croaked, almost unable to speak. “About thirty minutes?” God, this was almost more than he could take!

Buffy looked down and blushed, snatching the fabric back against her chest. “Sorry.” She muttered.

“I’m not.” He said without thinking.

She looked at him, eyes wide. “I think I’d better wait it out in the bathroom.” She turned towards the door, not trusting herself to be so close to him for another second longer. Her sense were on overload, she was exhausted and hungry, hungry for her life back, to be doing something, for someone to tell her it was all gonna be alright so she could surrender control and be free from her worries. So she could be free from everything.

Spike could feel her walls dropping, her guards normally held at such high alert being let down. His hand went to her hand, but realizing it would be too intimate, too much of a show of love and not passion her grabbed her arm instead, growling low in his throat. “Slayer…”

Buffy looked at him, scared. Out of habit she reached for the stake neatly tucked in her back pocket, only to realize she was still in a towel. “Spike, what are you doing?!”

He closed his eyes, relishing in her closeness. “What’s wrong with my eyes?” It wasn’t what he meant to say, it had just come out.

Buffy looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. “Your eyes?” She repeated, stupidly. Her tongue flicked out, licking at her pink lips.

The importance of the movement wasn’t lost on either of them. Blue orbs locked with green, and they were both momentarily stunned silent. The sparks flew as the tension stretched.

“Just one kiss, Buffy, pet, please…” Spike whispered, leaning towards her mouth. With a hazy mind he knew it spoke of love and not of passion, and dimly realized it was a mistake but it was already out there. Words dancing across the briefest space that separated them.

The room was warm and the scent of the dye was making her stomach flutter as she titled her head ever so slightly upward. Spike taking the invitation leaned down over her. Their lips touched, briefly, and feather-light in contact. Fireworks exploded in her belly as alarms went off in her mind. It felt so right, too right. It wasn't, it couldn't be. She pushed him away, frightened by the intensity of her emotions. “No, I can’t.” Buffy said, not quite meeting his eyes. She broke away from him, stepping clearly into the bathroom, and Spike knew what it meant. He felt every bit of the distance that his heart felt as the door shut with a resounding ‘click’.

He stood staring at the door for what felt like forever, he could hear her, the shower turning on as she rinsed the dye from her hair yet his ears seemed to only echo her words, "No, I can't." He was so stupid, so bloody dumb. He raged at himself, wanting to smash everything he could, wanting to shake her till she came to her senses, or stake himself, or all three. He had messed it up all the way around. He had a good thing going, and what he had though as torture only a few minutes ago now seemed like heaven. He knew what would happen now, they would go to Sunnydale all right, and they would be there, her precious Scooby Gang. They couldn't go back from this, they wouldn't sit around their kitchen table in the morning sharing a cup of coffee, whatever slim chance he had in the first place had been thrown away on a kiss.

"Shagging idiot." He spoke aloud. He knew better. Spike knew they could get along swimmingly as long as he kept his emotions hidden. No pressure and it was all picture perfect. He knew better than to hope that she could feel the same. He contemplated leaving, but the more he thought about his impending fate he decided to stick it out as long as he could, a few more days and she might be out of his life forever. Weak in both body and mind he pulled off his shirt and unbuckled his pants and slid into the king bed. Sleep was good, he dreamed of nothing but her and him, together forever.


*****

"The number you are trying to reach is not in service." The not so helpful message informed her. "Please hang up and dial again."

Dawn slammed the receiver down hard, shivering despite the heat. She had made eight calls in all and they had all yielded the same results. This wasn't happening. She was stranded in Vegas with no money and no help. What could have happened to them all? Even Angel's LA number was a bust. Suddenly she felt panicked at the thought that they might be hurt or worse, or maybe they had all moved. After all a Hellmouth without a slayer would be... bad. No one would stay in harms way without help. She tried to reassure herself that the summer Buffy had runaway the Scoobies had stayed, but a voice reminded her that was only for a summer. They had been gone for over two years now... and with the destruction Glory could cause... Dawn shuddered at the very thought.

She started walking up the sidewalk to keep her mind from wandering; she didn't want to think of all the 'what ifs'. She was in bad enough shape without piling stuff on top, for now she figured she would head towards the Strand, surely she could pickpocket some cash off someone and then she would just hop a bus. She would worry about what Sunnydale held once she got there.

"Dawn?" A voice shouted out from behind her.

She froze before speeding up her walk, her heart thundering in her chest. They were talking to someone else, she told herself. Not me, not me, not me.

"Dawn!" The voice was louder and Dawn broke out into a full run, feet pounding behind her as a hand grabbed her arm forcefully. Dawn didn't even have time to scream before the voice spoke. "I've got you now."


*****


Buffy peeked her head out of the bathroom still clad only in a towel. Clothes were fast becoming an issue and she wished again for the millionth time that she had the foresight to had made Spike stop at the apartment to pack a quick bag. Seeing Spike deep in sleep she cautiously stepped out. She didn't know what she had been thinking earlier, kissing him. She was clearly insane. Spotting his discarded silk shirt on the dresser she put it on, quickly fastening the buttons higher than necessary.

She eyed the bed suspiciously; this was not the smartest idea. She pondered just staying up and when he woke she could sleep but her body bulked at the idea. Softly, she slid between the sheets and comforter, creating a thin but careful barrier between them.

Spike, who had woken as soon as she had neared the bed, stayed where he was keeping his eyes closed. As he felt her relax into the mattress he smiled softly. This was good enough…for now. He fell back asleep, thanking the Gods or the Powers or whoever decided to cut him a break, that she was still there. For now she was still by his side.

Chapter Five


She ran hard and fast, the pavement pounding beneath her feet, jarring her head with each step. Jumping over the headstones of the ones she couldn’t save, always those ones, filling her mind with guilt and fear. Out into the street she ran, cold panic coating her. She looked up and down the abandoned road for help, for someone, but they were gone, wouldn’t help her the way she wasn’t able to help them. The shadow just came closer, cold, calculating, and unstoppable. She took off again, she knew where they were, where they always were. Bursting through the library doors, she called out for help.

Giles reached a hand out to her and relief flooded every part of her filling her with hope from her toes to the top of her head. "We know, Buffy. And I hate to say it under this circumstance, but welcome home." He embraced her. Hugging her as tears cascaded down her face only to be caught on his tweed jacket.

"I missed y-" The word got cut as a searing pain ribbed through her back, copper filling her mouth. Buffy turned to see Willow holding a blood-soaked knife.

"Welcome back." She smiled sweetly, the hard glare of blame and hatred in her eyes. Buffy went to speak but only blood came pouring from her lips.

Xander appeared from nowhere. "Well that's not a very friendly greeting is it, Buff?" And then he was pushing her backwards and she was falling. And as she collided with the hard ground, she screamed. "Dawn!"


*****


Dawn froze the second she heard her name called, but living on the hellmouth for so long had given her the reaction time of a trained professional. On instinct, she took off running. Live now, ask questions later.

“Dawn! Wait up!” The person said, grabbing her arm.

In Dawn’s terror–stricken state, the youthful, girlish voice sounded exactly like Glory, the hell-god. Beyond any type of coherent thought, Dawn was operating in pure survival mode. She automatically went into a fighting stance, also a benefit of living on the hellmouth, but more so from having a slayer for a sister.

Dawn screamed, and reversed the hold on her arm, expertly flipping the girl and slamming her into the pavement.

Had there been any passerby’s, they might have noticed the two females fighting-nothing abnormal about that in these parts. But what would have stopped them in their tracks was the unearthly scream that came from the taller one, followed by the strange green glow surrounding her like an aura.

However, no one was around, so the whole event went unnoticed. The girl Dawn had perceived to be a threat was unconscious, lying on the pavement. Her hair covered her face, masking her features.

Dawn took a cautious step back, warily eyeing the former threat. She had no idea what had just happened to her, her focus was completely on the unmoving form. She would have run, but something seemed familiar about her. She kneeled down, muscles tensing should the need to escape arise. She gently moved the girl’s hair from her face, revealing a young woman with features similar to Dawn’s own. They were slightly sharper, and hardened by life.

Her heavily-lined eyelids fluttered open, focusing on Dawn. Her lips, painted a color Dawn could only describe as “hooker red” twisted into something between a grimace and a smile. Dawn got the eerie feeling that the look was something she wore often, and didn’t have much to do with present circumstances. It…bothered her, for some reason. It was then that she realized just who she was looking at.

Dawn’s eyes widened with surprise. “Oh my God…Janice?"


*****


"Buffy!" The ground was trembling. "Buffy!" Her name reverberated loudly in her ears causing the slayer to open her eyes.

Spike was next to her, his hand on her arms, shaking her awake. His blue eyes were large and timorous. She collected her surroundings with quick darted glances around their night-cloaked room as Spike released his grip on her, wiping his palms on the sheet. "You were having a nightmare." He informed her as if apologetic for shaking her. "Screaming and what not..." He trailed off, pausing for a moment before pressing her gently. "Do you remember it?"

The colors and pain still flashed vividly in her mind and Buffy nodded meekly, tears of fear and exhaustion falling from her green eyes. "It was in their faces. God, I can't go back. I can't. I can't. I can't..." She repeated as she cried, burying her head into Spike's shoulder.

And Spike with the tenderness of the ages held her, his thumb drawing lazy circles across her back. "It's alright, luv. It'll all be alright." Buffy held on to him, she didn't believe in transcending wounds. It was a lie told to a child, a fairytale to make the dark less black and the night less scary. He had forgotten they both knew the truth.


*****


"Oops." Dawn grimaced at her mistake as she knelt beside her former friend and classmate. "Janice?" She asked anxiously, trying to survey the damage.

Janice lay across the pavement, her skin ghastly pale and Dawn for a moment was sure she had killed her. Then she rolled to the side, hacking and coughing. "God, Summers." She groaned weakly opening her painted eyelids to look at her attacker. "High strung much?"

"Sorry." Dawn apologized as she helped Janice to her feet.

Janice stood with a defiant air about even though she had just been slammed to the ground. "If you do that again I will be forced to kick your ass." She rubbed her back, her bare midriff showing and small scars from the pavement bleeding. "I kicked Crystal Ginley's ass and I can surely kick yours."

"I was out sick that day, but I heard about it." Dawn bobbed her head, picking up her bag, reminiscing about the big sixth grade gossip.

Janice nodded in approval. "Got suspended for a week but it was worth it." She ran her eyes up and down Dawn, taking her measure. "You got taller."

"Yep, that's me, tall girl. Buffy is always griping about how unfair it is because you know she's so short and she can never reach the shelves and things..." Dawn rambled unnecessarily; Janice's direct appraising look was making her feel unsettled. Or maybe Janice herself was making her feel unsettled. Two years could definitely change a person, gone were the pink bubble gum tops and glitter belts. Instead replaced by a high-cut black midriff baring tee, hugging tightly across her chest and low-rise jeans so low that Dawn was sure they would slip off if Janice ever sat down.

"Well." Janice threw up her arms and smiled broadly. "It's so good to see you!" She squealed, hugging Dawn. And as Dawn half-heartedly returned the embrace her fingers became wet and sticky.

"Umm..." She spoke up as she pulled back her blood stained fingers and showed them to Janice. "I think you're bleeding."

Janice turned and twisted, checking her back. "Damn, Dawn! I just got these jeans. Oh no big. We can stop at my place and throw on one-, "she looked at her back again, grimacing.”Or a few bandages on and then go out and cruise the strand." She started to walk but then stopped. "Wait, I forgot. Are you guys staying around her? Do you need to run and tell big sis Buffy? Don't want her to wig. That is one chick I never want mad at me. She can kick some major ass!”

"Ummm..." Dawn faltered, unsure how much to confide in her old friend. "Should we call your mom first? Give her the heads up? No one likes unexpected company..." Janice smiled and chuckled.

"What?"

"You ran away!" Janice laughed.

"I did not! Buffy is at..."

"Oh please! ’No one likes unexpected company'? Could you come up with a lamer stall tactic?" Seeing Dawn's face fall, she rushed to comfort her. "Oh don't feel bad. I split from my mom over a year ago. That woman was nuts! Do you need a place to stay? It's not much but..."

Dawn could have kissed her, she was so grateful for a place to rest and the possibility of some food. She was exhausted mentally and physically and walked happily next to Janice. "Thank you."

"No big." Janice took Dawn's bag and hoisted on her shoulder. "First we'll stop at my place and drop your shit off and fix my back and then we will get a bite to eat. But stay close, you wouldn't believe the freaks out at night."

Dawn almost laughed. "Oh, you'd be surprised."


*****


Buffy was panicking. She knew it, and she knew Spike knew it. She couldn’t stop trembling, couldn’t stop her heart’s frantic pace. She clung to Spike like a life-line, a rock in the middle of a stormy sea. She whimpered, afraid. "I'm so scared." She admitted voice shaking, hands tightening her grip on his hard body.

Fear was something she lived in almost constantly; her life had always seemed to revolve around it long before being called. There was always something out there threatening her world; her parent's fighting, being the new girl at school, Lisa, her arch-nemesis back in her ice skating days, there was always someone, something, to dethrone her and steal the life she had so carefully crafted. Fear was what pushed her, harder, faster, to be better because if she wasn't... it would all fall apart. And she would have to just be her. Slaying only cemented further in her mind how fragile her world was, how it hung on a perilously thin string, but it was her job not to show that, her job to stand on the tight-walk and play normal. Slayers didn't show fear, she was sure it was in the handbook, and the thought of Spike of all people seeing her so weak made her feel ashamed. Because now he could see her, not the Slayer, but just her, and that made her even more afraid. "It's not gonna be alright, Spike. It's not. It's not." She shook her head slightly, her brown short hair brushing against his shoulder.

“Buffy, shh, it’s alright, luv. I’m here. It was just a dream.” Spike said soothingly. He was relishing having her in his arms. He hated the tears streaming down her face but the fact she had turned to him, that she was letting him in... Just for the briefest moment, meant more than the world.

She had, for the moment anyways, forgotten he was naked, and that she was clinging to him. But Spike was only too aware of her current position, and how she smelled fresh, like soap, and how soft her hair was on his shoulder like a kitten's fur. The only thing separating their bodies was the thin shirt she wore. His shirt, he reminded himself proudly.

Buffy sniffled, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Spike…” She whispered, looking up into his eyes. “I just…I don’t know. I don't think I can do this. I don't think I can go back." As soon as the words left her mouth she wished she could stuff them back in her mouth and swallow them.

Spike pulled back just the slightest amount and titled his head to the side, examining her, really looking at her. Though the room was dark Buffy could feel his eyes burning into her and she quickly closed the space between them, settling herself back into his arms and burrowing her head into his shoulder.

"What are you afraid of?" He asked quietly, having gathered all of his courage to do so.

She wanted to blurt out the whole thing, how she didn't know anymore what it felt like not to be afraid, that more than anything she wanted to feel safe, to feel her world was secure and would not topple at the tiniest wind. She wanted to babble about how they were in her dream, her friends, and they stabbed her in the back, literally. And how part of her thought that might be fair, that might be just after running out on them. She wanted to explain how Spike scared her because everyday he made her life just a tiny bit easier and she didn't know what she what do when he left. Because that's what guys did, they left. They left her. But she couldn't say all that, she just couldn't, so instead she lied. "Glory."

Spike had to strain to hear her, even with his enhanced senses. Her voice had become so soft, hating the falsehood that spilled from her lips. “It’s okay now, pet. I’ll keep you…safe.” He added the last word on, not wanting her to know he thought of her as his.

And there it was, a vow that she almost believed. That she would believe if only she let herself. She lifted her head, their faces a mere breath apart. She breathed him in; he smelled of tobacco, whiskey, and leather, scents that always clung to him no matter how long he was away from drink or went without a smoke. Buffy liked that; there was comfort in constancy. "Promise?"

He cocked his head to the side, and brought a trembling hand to her face. If it was shaking because of how close she was or if it was shaking because he hadn't fed, he couldn't say. He stared at his hand for a moment, finding it foreign and oddly shaped as it caressed her cheek, fingers with chipped black nail polish gliding softly against her satin skin. She let the weight of her headrest in his palm with the slightest dip of her head. Her eyes shown emerald against her dark hair and he for a moment forgot what he knew. He let it slip from his mind that she was a slayer above all else, and that she didn't love him, couldn't love him. He let himself hope. "Forever, I swear to you, Buffy."

It was her name that did it, her most valued possession lost in fleeing Sunnydale. He didn't call her Summers, didn't call her Slayer, or Goldielocks, or a host of other nicknames. He called her Buffy. The world crashed in hard. What was she doing? Buffy pulled herself from his arms and up out of the bed, quickly creating distance. She moved to the dresser and clicked on the light, darkness falling away but the nightmare still lingering. Her mind raced around in circles repeatedly asking 'what the hell did she almost do?'

“We need to go shopping. My hair…I need clothes to match my hair. And, uh…food!! We need more food!!” She walked about the room frantically, gathering her clothes. She needed to get away, to think. Being so close to Spike turned her brain to mush, and she couldn’t think of anything but wrapping her hand around his massive length, and guiding him inside her. She shuddered, picturing him thrusting into her, while she wrapped her legs around his waist…God, what was wrong with her?! She didn't love him, scolded herself. Yet she couldn't just chalk up what had happened to carnal lust, there was always that side of them, dangerous heat. But what had happened was more than that... there was a connection. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go!” Buffy said a mite too cheerily. She looked at him expectantly. “Shouldn't you be getting dressed?"

Spike was staring at Buffy, his mouth hanging open. Didn’t she realize what she just did? She had jumped out of the bed suddenly, talking about shopping and what-not, then had preceded to get dressed…right in front of him! Off had come the shirt, her fingers nimbly working the buttons, slowly revealing tone and tanned flesh, leaving her in a pair of panties. He stared at her, taking in that beautiful body. High breasts, a flat stomach, and a hint of a shadow at the apex of her thighs…

“You…you’re dressed.” He said, by way of explanation and his mind went hazy. "I'm not here, am I?"

“What?” She asked annoyed, scrunching up her nose, his logic was jagged and hard to follow. She glanced around and catching sight of his shirt on the floor, understood. She had undressed in front of Spike. In her blind panic to put a clamp on those emotions that had started to bubble she had inadvertently given him a free peep show. Her ears flamed red and she could feel the fingers of a blush crawling up her neck. Fingers still wrapped tightly around his blue discarded shirt she let out a groan. "Oh, god." Her legs turned to jello as she sat slowly on the edge of the bed, replaying her hasty actions. "Oh, god." She repeated dumbly.

“Buffy…” Spike said, his voice filled with lust.

“I didn’t mean to…” Buffy trailed off, unable to meet his eyes. "Oh god!" She buried her head in her lap, the blue shirt cushioning her face.

Spike stood, towering over her, eyes fixing on her shoulder length brown locks that covered her face, at a loss for what to say. "It's not a big deal." He lied. The sheet was draped around his waist covering up what it could. "I mean here." He dropped the sheet, letting it fall away, revealing his delicious body. He didn't exactly relish Buffy being able to gawk at his hard on but he had to do something..."You can watch and then we're even."

Her eyes had jerked open as the sheet landed on her feet, it was just for a split second before she clamped them shut again, holding his shirt even tighter across her face, a girlish blush crawling up her ears and neck. "Oh my god, Spike! Would you stop that? Just go get dressed!"

"Not gonna take a gander?" Spike smirked at her reaction, noticing the pink tint to her ears. "Nothing to be ashamed of love, the body is a beautiful thing."

"Just get dressed!" Buffy commanded, eyes clamped shut, mind refusing to let go of the image of Spike naked.

Spike rolled his eyes and gathered his pants from where they lay across a chair. "Tell me more about this outing then." He shoved his second leg in, and the world lurched. Grabbing the chair back he gathered himself grateful that Buffy was still playing the blushing virgin and had missed his let slip.

"Outing?" She questioned, the sound muffled in his shirt.

"Yeah." He spoke as he walked towards her, zipping his fly and securing the top button. "You wanted to get clothes and food, something about matching your hair." He stopped in front of her. "Gonna need my shirt."

Opening her eyes slowly she kept her gaze low in case Spike was still in a 'I show you mine you show me yours' mood but seeing the familiar faded black denim she finally glanced upward and handed him his shirt. "Here."

Spike took it, his fingers accidentally brushing the back of her hand causing Buffy to shiver slightly. "So you're planning on going out. Why did I have to get dressed?"

"Huh? Wait. Aren't you coming?"

"Gonna be getting light out soon." He gestured with a nod of his head to the tightly closed drapes. "I can smell it."

"Okay. I'll take the car. You can rest." Buffy grabbed up the keys from where they rested on the dresser. "You look like hell anyway."

"Shouldn't point fingers, Summers."

Buffy glanced down out her outfit, dirty and wrinkled from wearing it for the past three days, she had to admit Spike had a point. "Well, I wouldn't have if you had let me stop at the apartment and pack! But oh no. We must leave right away. But it’s okay to pay for two nights here?!"

"Hey, if I remember right you weren't exactly clamoring to stop at home. Too freaked about bit run away. She gets that from you, I'll have you know." Spike pointed a finger in Buffy's direction

"Me? Are you even trying to make some coherent sense?"

"Well let’s look at your track record shall we?" Spike ticked off the numbers on his fingers. "First you split when you had to send Angel to hell, and next time could you try to make the hell trip a tad more permanent? Then again when after Joyce-"

"Hello? You were there too. And you thought it was a good idea! " Buffy's voice rose and her gripped tightened around the keys leaving imprints in her flesh. "I mean should I have just sat around and waited for Glory to have figured it out? Is that what you're saying? That I should have just stayed in Sunnydale and went along living my life and not care what might happen to Dawn?"

"Course not." Spike replied, sorry he had even brought it up.

"Cuz that would have been a lot simpler!" Buffy rambled on. "I mean, from my point of view I could already be back in school and Xander could come over for a vidfest and besides the usual end of the world thing I would have been happy!"

Spike wanted to jump on her for that happy comment, to ask her if she was happy with him... Well, not with him, but with Dawn and him, if she was happy with their little family but he knew better. So he stood waiting for her breathing to even before speaking. "Done?"

Taking a few more deep breaths Buffy calmed down. "Yeah."

"Good."

Jingling the keys she gave it one last shot. "Sure you don't want to come?"

"Dust really isn't my look."

"Okay. If you're sure... " She picked up and electric key and his wallet and slipped it into her purse. "We have insurance on the car right?"

Spike rolled his eyes with a groan. Buffy and cars didn't mix. "Alright. I'll come but you better not complain when your new clothes have to be dragged through the sewer."

Buffy smiled as she handed him the keys, the last thing she wanted to be was alone right now. "I won't say a word." She promised as she followed him into the hall.

"Somehow I think that is bloody unlikely. Okay." He stepped back. "Lead the way."


 

Next