SUMMARY: Gee, that’s a tough one… Hehe. Okay, so it’s Dawn’s Prom, and she hasn’t got a date. What’s a Slayer to do to appease her irritated sister?

The Slayer was in the kitchen making herself a very well-earned sandwich when it happened. Her Spidey-sense went completely wacky - not in the vampire-nearby-and-closing way, but in a more generalised, panicky way. She’d felt this before, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember when, exactly, it had been. It was worse than the average demon, so… what?

Her question was answered suddenly by the sound of the front door slamming, very deliberately, and the television becoming switched on at full volume. It could mean only one thing… It was the night before the senior Prom, and Dawn had failed to get a date. Buffy sighed. This was not going to be very pretty. She picked up her sandwich, and cautiously approached the almost visibly seething ball of stress that was her little sister.

Dawn was paying very little attention to the television, seeming more content to fume quietly and plot revenge against the universe, or whatever hell-god had decided to invent Prom night. Buffy considered her options for a moment. She could either be careful and tactful and avoid the subject completely, or she could tease Dawn mercilessly at the risk of a teen tantrum. She settled for apparently pleasant midpoint, as she sat a safe distance away from her.

“How was school Dawn?”

The brunette merely huffed, then said, “Oh. You know. Same old, same old.”

“Care to… elaborate on that? Cos it’s been a while since I did the whole school thing.”

“Nothing’s changed,” she said. “Trust me. Homework’s still hard, math still sucks, and the lunch break continues to get shorter every semester. And did I mention the fact that all guys are jerks?”

Buffy could resist it no longer, trying and failing utterly miserably to suppress her amused smirk as she asked, “So… lookin’ forward to the Prom?”

“Don’t talk to me about the Prom. The Prom is the evil of all evil things.” Well, she did at least seem to be taking it well.

“Didn’t get a date, huh?”

“Ugh,” she responded, which in itself said enough. “Would you believe even the class geek has a date? I mean, this guy’s like the entire ex-Nerd Herd combined in one huge geek-o-rama, and he has a date. Does Dawn have a date? No.” She resumed her sulking, her explanation apparently over.

Buffy looked thoughtful. “Well… just go with your friend Janice and have lotsa girly fun.”

She scoffed. “Yuh-huh, and watch her suck face with her icky jock boyfriend? I don’t think so. I’m staying home.” She folded her arms with an air of determination that wasn’t to be questioned.

“Oh, Dawny, you can’t do that!” exclaimed Buffy, appalled. “It’s your Prom! You don’t get to do that again. I should know, what with mine being a complete literal disaster.” Then, she realised something. “Oh! See, there’s a plus. No Mayor-snake-thingy at yours. It’ll be a good, normal, non-apocalyptic Prom.”

That raised an amused smile, at least. “Thanks for trying, Buff, but… I thought we could stay home and have a girls’ night in. Watch trashy movies, get sick on popcorn…” Her suggestion trailed off into obsoleteness as her sister’s expression became increasingly guilty. “What…?”

The Slayer actually looked nervous. “I… um… kinda won’t be here…”

“Huh? Why not?” Buffy didn’t need to answer. Dawn guessed straight away. “You’re going to the Prom? I thought you said you didn’t get to do that again…”

“Well,” she explained, “I’m, uh, staff now, and… and they needed an extra, y’know, adult, and, cos I’m the counsellor, they said… uh… that I should be there.” She offered a weak smile to the very annoyed teenager. “Don’t want anyone pulling a ‘Carrie’ on us, do we?”

Dawn conceded defeat, rather too easily. “Okay, I’ll go. Just don’t expect me to sit with you all night, because that’ll make me even more of a Dateless Wonder and oh my God you have a date, don’t you…?” This last part of Dawn’s realisation ended with a barely audible groan.

Buffy backtracked, wondering exactly how she’d gotten herself into this. Oh, yeah. By asking. Note to self: never ask questions. “It’s not a date, exactly… I mean, geez, it’s only Spike, it’s not-“

“Spike?” asked Dawn, incredulous. “You’re bringing Spike to the Prom?”

“Yeah. No big deal, Dawn. Just Spike…”

“Just Spike? Oh, great. So, I’m like Little Miss Cant-Get-A-Guy, sitting with my school-staff sister and her drop-dead-gorgeous undead boyfriend…”

“Ah-ah!” scolded Buffy. “He’s not my boyfriend. Although I will agree with you on that first part…”

Dawn raised a decidedly sceptical eyebrow and saw a wonderful opportunity to torment her elder sister. “Not your boyfriend, huh? Well, if that’s what you do to guys who aren’t your boyfriend, I don’t think I wanna know what you do-“

“You finish that thought and you’ll find out what I do to gutter-minded little sisters.”

Dawn backed off, semi-triumphant. “Seriously, though. If he’s not, then… what? I mean, I thought you two were-“

“We are,” she said, “but… I don’t know. I think we’re kinda beyond that, y’know? It’s like… it’s not just him and me any more. It’s… it’s us.”

“Aw,” said Dawn. “That’s so cute.” She grinned, then: “But I still don’t have a date.”

There followed an awkward silence. They both half-watched the television, and Buffy fought her conscience. And lost. “All right,” she said, with a sigh, “I’ll wilfully give him up for an evening.”

Dawn’s eyes gleamed, but she feigned curiosity. “Huh?”

“I will try and convince Spike to be your date…”

“Really?” Her grin threatened to split her face in half. “Seriously?”

Buffy squirmed, now realising there was no way she was getting out of this. “Y…yeah. But only if he agrees. If he doesn’t, don’t expect me to beg…”

“C’mon, Spike, please?!”

“Why me?” he asked, although after ten minutes arguing it, his heart wasn’t much in it. “Ask the soddin’ Whelp for a change.”

“Because I promised her you would…” Buffy used her puppy-dog pout to full effect in her argument, and, as anticipated, it worked. “And because it’s her Prom, and she doesn’t have a date… and she doesn’t want to go with Xander, she wants to go with you…”

He sighed a very heavy and unnecessary sigh. “I thought I was your date.”

“Well, technically,” she pointed out, “you were going to follow me there and skulk in the corner so you wouldn’t have to meet my colleagues.”

“Was not!” he argued. Pause. “Well, all right, I was, but-“

“So go with Dawn! Then you’ll only have to meet her friend Janice…” She was answered by a raised eyebrow.

“Is this the same friend who accidentally introduced her to a vamp?”

“Um… maybe…” Meaning yes, Spike knew.

“You want me to meet Janice? Exactly how much of her would you like me to leave intact?”

Buffy swatted him on the arm just hard enough to make her point. “Oh, stop it. Look, the bottom line is, Dawn doesn’t have a date, and if she doesn’t get one both of our lives will be a living Hell for… well… ever.”

Spike sighed heavily. He wasn’t entirely sure about this. He’d only suggested he go with Buffy in case she got bored, and now, suddenly, he was being emotionally blackmailed into taking her sister instead. Which didn’t necessarily mean Buffy wasn’t going, he realised… and if it was the precursor to an easy unlife… It seemed he had very little choice in the matter.

When he still hadn’t said anything, Buffy finished with: “It’ll make her year…”

He cursed himself for what felt like the hundredth time for being completely unable to refuse the Summers women anything, and said, “Okay, fine, I’ll take Dawn to the Prom. But I’m not wearing a bloody tux.”

“Yes, you bloody are…” She blinked. “I did not just say that.”

Amazingly, considering the time restraints, everything was going remarkably swimmingly. Spike grudgingly promised to find a tux from somewhere, and neither Buffy nor Dawn decided to question him on exactly where he was going to ‘find’ one from. Dawn was fitted out nicely in her dress, which they’d trawled through the shops for a fortnight ago because she’d refused to wear Buffy’s old one, and Buffy had picked out something appropriately dressy from her closet. With ten minutes to go until Spike appeared, the two sisters were sitting completely patiently in the younger’s room, while she had the finishing touches added to her hair…

“When’s he gonna get here?” asked Dawn, for the fifteenth time.

Buffy made a show of checking her watch. “Soon. Calm down, Dawn.”

“But what if he stands me up?”

“He won’t. He knows he won’t live to see tomorrow if he does.” She made one final curl in her sister’s hair and then put down the tongs, reaching for a grip to hold it up.

There was a brief silence. “What if he’s late? He’ll be late, I know it…”

At which point, as if to prove her wrong, there was a knock at the door. Buffy performed a final adjustment to the creation of curls and spirals on Dawn’s head, then stood back to admire her handiwork. “See?” she said. “He’s early. I’ll go let him in, you stay here and finish making yourself look gorgeous.” She paused in the doorway and turned back. “Okay, I know he’s not officially my date any more… uh… not that he ever was, of course…” She stopped trying to explain herself and just launched in, a sheepish expression on her face. “How do I look?”

Dawn looked her over, and smiled. “Spike’s gonna hate you.”

Buffy’s face fell. “Why?”

“Because you got all dressed up just the way he likes it, and it’s me he’s gotta look at all night…”

“Oh.” She smiled. “Well, he’ll live. Unlive… uh…”

“You gonna let him in?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. Right.”

With that, Buffy left Dawn shaking her head in exasperation, and headed downstairs. She straightened her dress self-consciously and then opened the door with a smile. The smile soon disappeared and her mouth fell open in surprise. Not only had Spike kept his word and ‘found’ a tux (possibly, ‘bought’ would have been an overstatement), but he looked good in it. And that was an extreme understatement. He looked all the more adorable for the fact that he seemed so utterly uncomfortable in it, and she knew he was only going through the torture for her and Dawn’s sake.

He smiled nervously for some reason, and Buffy showed him in, examining his overall appearance once he was in the light. He’d been hiding a small bouquet of flowers behind his back, she noticed, and there was a corsage in his pocket. She was suddenly very jealous, but this was Dawn’s night and Buffy herself had suggested it, and had no right to want to steal her date back…

Then, she noticed it. He was wearing his boots. Suddenly, she wanted to hit him a lot. And then, she spotted his incredibly bad attempt at a bow tie, and starting giggling. He stopped gazing absently around the room and focussed on her.

“What’s so funny?”

She stopped giggling enough to talk. “You, uh, never really thought through the whole not-having-a-reflection deal, did you?”

“Well, after a century, you kinda stop noticing…”

“I gathered.” She rolled her eyes, since he clearly still hadn’t twigged what she was on about, and set about straightening the offending tie. She’d gotten better since her attempt to help Xander at his wedding-that-never-was. Satisfied that the tie was presentable, she stood back to admire her efforts, which gave Spike a chance to actually look her over for the first time that night.

Buffy had picked out a tasteful, bias-cut, lilac-coloured dress that ran all the way down to her feet, with a straight neckline and wide-ish spaghetti straps, which was formal, but not too dressy. She was, after all, technically only there in a chaperone capacity. She wasn’t required to dress up, but had done so anyway. The whole point of being the school counsellor was to be approachable; at least, by looking like she was going to a Prom, she’d be continuing her role. Plus, she was always willing to find an excuse to dress up.

If Spike’s reaction was anything to go by, she’d made the right choice. She’d somehow succeeded in stunning him speechless. Well, that would never do. He needed to be able to talk.

“I don’t suppose the flowers are for me, are they?” she asked, mock-hopefully.

Spike snapped out of it and looked at the bunch in his hand as though he didn’t have a clue where it’d come from. “What? Oh. Sorry, love, but no. Could hardly turn up on the doorstep with nothing for my date, could I?”

“I guess not.”

“Talking of, where is the Nibblet?”

“Upstairs. She’ll be down soon.” While they waited, she decided to torment him a little longer. “Y’know, I would’ve been your date before… don’t I get anything?”

She set the pout to ‘kill’. Spike succumbed, as usual, and gave her a small smile. “There is… something. Figured if I gave it to Dawn I’d get staked…”

“What’s that?”

He said nothing, just smiled knowingly, and approached her slowly. Remaining silent, he leant down and kissed her very softly, which she then decided was far better than flowers. Suddenly, Prom night was becoming a lot more enjoyable.

Their moment was cut abruptly short by a familiar voice. “Buffy, get your lips off my date!”

They broke apart and looked to the top of the stairs, where Dawn was attempting to make her entrance. Buffy stood back out of the way, and Spike straightened himself up. When she was satisfied that she had their undivided attention, Dawn began her decidedly regal descent.

Spike watched her, impressed, wondering when his Little Bit had grown up. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, he bowed mock-courteously and presented her with the flowers and the corsage. Dawn beamed.

“Wow. Spike, you didn’t have to go this far.”

“I wanted to.”

Dawn sniffed the flowers and handed them to Buffy, who quickly retrieved a vase from the kitchen to put them in. She came back and placed them in the middle of the table, and she and her sister admired them. Dawn beamed even wider. “Thanks. They’re beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you, Bit,” he said, causing the accused and her sister to smile.

“Aw. But… could you not call me that in front of my friends?” She gave him a hopeful look, wondering if she might be asking too much. It was second nature to everyone that she was ‘his Bit’ or ‘the Nibblet’, and it had been a long time since he’d actually used her name. In fact, he’d stopped using her real name around about the same time he’d stopped calling Buffy ‘Slayer’, in some bizarre coincidence. Clearly, with the lack of one pet name, he’d had to resort to overuse of the other. Usually, Dawn didn’t complain, but, since this was her special night, he’d abide by her request.

“Of course… Dawn…” She smiled again. There was a brief pause, and then he held out his arm. “We’d best be off, I suppose.” Looking over his shoulder at Buffy as Dawn took his arm, he said, “Ladies, your carriage awaits.”

Buffy suddenly had a stab of panic. Carriage… oh, please… anything but that… He wouldn’t take them to the Prom in the de Soto… surely not… would he? Well, if he did, she’d just make him park it a fair few blocks away and they could walk the rest of the distance. As Spike opened the front door and led Dawn out, Buffy following, she braced herself…

What she saw parked at the end of the driveway made her gasp in surprise. It was a car, yes… but it was a far cry from the de Soto. He’d somehow managed to acquire a limo - she wasn’t even going to think about questioning how - and a driver, who was, for the moment, shrouded in the blackness of the interior. Spike opened the back door and helped Dawn inside, and waited for Buffy to get in, looking puzzled when she merely stood on the pavement.

“Buffy? You getting in?”

She apparently ignored the question. “Spike, this is…”

“Too much? Yeah, I know, but…” He shrugged.

“I was going to say ‘perfect’, actually. How did you…?” She let the question trail off. Then, a familiar voice came from the driver’s seat.

“He told me he’d buy me a year’s supply of fried chicken if I helped out.”

Buffy looked towards the front of the car, where Clem’s floppy-eared head was sticking out of the window. He was wearing his usual friendly smile, and had gotten all dressed up in a chauffeur’s uniform for the occasion. She suppressed an ‘aw’ and turned back to Spike.

“You can’t even afford a week’s supply of chicken…” she whispered.

“Sh…” He shot her a look to imply that what Clem didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. “Now, get in, or you’ll make Dawn late.”

The Slayer conceded defeat and got into the car, followed by Spike. The three of them got comfortable in the back and waited for Clem to start the car. Nothing happened. Then, the demon’s voice filtered through from the front of the limo. “Uh… any of you know the way to the High School?”

Eventually, with Buffy directing, they got to the Prom on time. Buffy went in ahead of her sister and sought out the staff’s table at the back, while Dawn gave Spike orders on what not to say or do. He nodded in all the appropriate places, but wasn’t really listening, since he felt oddly nervous. He’d never met any of Dawn’s school friends, because in the main, her friends were also Buffy’s. They’d taken a while to like him, with the exception of Willow, who seemed to be generally accepting of most people unless they gave her a reason not to. He wondered if he’d get the same sort of cold reception from Dawn’s.

He realised she was tugging lightly on his arm and snapped himself out of it, fixing a smile on his face. “You ready, then?” She nodded, and they headed into the gymnasium arm in arm.

They entered the large room and Spike scanned the assembled teenagers, wondering for approximately the fifth time exactly what he’d let himself in for. They stopped in the middle of the throng while Dawn looked for Janice in the crowd, and Spike sought out Buffy. He spotted her at a largish table near the back wall of the room, chatting with an older woman. She caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye and shot him a brief, warm smile before returning to her conversation.

Dawn tugged on his arm again and whispered frantically. “Janice is over there. Come on. And remember what I said-“

“Yeah, I know,” he interrupted. “Don’t call you ‘Nibblet’ or ‘Li’l Bit’.” Dawn nodded gratefully and started leading him over towards one of the tables.

Spike became acutely aware of his own presence in the room, and of almost every pair of eyes on him as he followed the brunette through the crowd. He didn’t attempt to meet anybody’s gaze as he walked, save for Buffy’s. She was watching him, amusement obvious on her face. He was making quite an impression, and Dawn was probably going to be answering questions for a month after the Prom was over.

Finally, Spike caught sight of someone vaguely familiar and assumed it was Janice. The girl was approximately Dawn’s height, with shoulder-length hair the same colour as Dawn’s. She spotted Dawn and gesticulated frantically to catch her attention; the two girls met and hugged, and set about complimenting each other’s dresses. Spike stood behind Dawn and attempted to look inconspicuous. It didn’t work.

“Who’s this?” asked Janice, raising an appreciative eyebrow.

Dawn grinned very widely. “My date,” she said. “Janice, meet…” Spike shot her a briefly warning glance. “Bill.”

He was about to say something, but didn’t get a chance to because he found himself shaking hands with Janice. “Hi. Nice to meet you, Bill.”

“Uh… yeah… ‘S a pleasure…” He glared at Dawn when Janice looked away briefly; the ex-Key shot him an incredibly apologetic look that implied it was the first thing she’d thought of. Then he returned his attention to Janice, who was eyeing him curiously.

“You’re really familiar… Have I seen you before?”

Well, he figured, she had, but he was kicking vampire butt at the time. But he couldn’t exactly tell her that. “I get around.”

“Ooh, you’re British? Cool.” She turned to Dawn. “Where’d you find him? And isn’t he a little old for you? Geez, if I was dating a college guy, mom’d ground me for a month.”

Janice was asking too many questions, so Dawn changed the subject. “So… ha… Janice, where’s your date?”

“Huh? Oh, he’s… around. Back any minute now.”

Their conversations and small talk continued in much the same manner for the next hour as they sat at the table, with Spike contributing whenever he had to. Janice’s date turned out to be incredibly irritating, constantly making idiotic jokes that only Janice seemed to find funny. The vampire would cast his gaze occasionally towards Buffy, who looked alternately deeply amused, sympathetic, or thankful that he was going through with it. He checked the large clock that was situated high on a wall. It was only nine o’clock. He was in for a few more hours of this, at the very least.

All he could do was grin and bear it and pray that a distraction came along very soon before he ate Janice’s annoying boyfriend. Chip, or no chip. He could deal with a little migraine, just to stop the god-awful jokes. At one point, he briefly considered excusing himself so he could go out and find something defenceless to kill, or perhaps talk to Buffy. Then he spotted Dawn’s desperate attempt to look interested, and realised he was utterly stuck.

He checked the clock again. Nine-fifteen. That was when he started praying.

During the next hour, Spike had perfected a new skill of not-listening-but-looking-interested, and had honed it down to a fine art. He hadn’t got a single clue what the conversation at Dawn’s table was about, but he was managing to nod in all the right places and make all the appropriate facial expressions. It was only when Dawn shot him a knowing glance across the table that he realised he was doing it at all, and from that point on, he decided it was probably a good idea to actually start listening.

The jokes, he noted with some dismay, were not only still happening, but had actually gotten worse.

Then, his saviour made itself known, as the reasonably unobtrusive background music got louder and indicated to all the assembled teens that it was officially time to dance. Spike, on the whole, was as averse to dancing as he was to the annoyingly thumpy music which was now assaulting his ears. But if it meant Janice’s boyfriend was leaving the table, he could live with it. Maybe he could escape for a few minutes once they’d all got up to dance, perhaps go and keep Buffy company for a while…

Oh, no. No, no, no… Dawn was standing up, holding out a hand in anticipation, one eyebrow raised to suggest that if he didn’t dance with her, he wouldn’t like the result. He resisted the urge to bash his forehead repeatedly into the confetti-sprinkled tabletop and smiled wearily, getting up. Dawn realised his reluctance with some amusement.

“Just one dance, okay? Just one. Then you can go talk to Buffy, I promise.”

Was he really that transparent? He nodded. “All right, Ni… Dawn. Just one…” He gave her a serious look that made this fact very clear, and then, grinning, she dragged him towards the very middle of the dance floor. He groaned. He should have known he couldn’t trust her to dance somewhere inconspicuous. And, to top that off, everyone was looking at them, so he couldn’t even pretend to be dancing. Out of habit now, he looked over towards the staff table, and, just to make his predicament all the worse, his beloved Slayer was desperately trying not to laugh at him as she caught his gaze. He frowned, and then did the most mature thing he could in response: he stuck his tongue out.

Buffy briefly lost her battle against the giggles, which made it slightly better. He didn’t get much time to enjoy the scene as she attempted to explain her outburst to one of her work colleagues, because Dawn suddenly kicked him in the shin discretely.

“Oi!”

“Sorry,” she said, although she clearly wasn’t.

“What was that for?”

“You’re not dancing. You’re also staring at my sister. My date, remember?”

He tore his gaze from Buffy and looked apologetically at Dawn. “Sorry.”

After many shoves in the right direction, she managed to get him to move with something resembling rhythm, and, although he’d never admit it to anyone, he was actually starting to enjoy it. And Dawn was having a great time, which more than made up for his embarrassment.

This, he realised sadly, was probably going to be one of the last moments of quality time he’d spend with her. After the Prom came summer break, and after that, college - and Dawn was planning to go anywhere but Sunnydale University, after the various Hellmouth fiascos her sister and Willow had been through. In only a few weeks, she’d be moving out of the house and starting another life somewhere else, without Buffy, and without him. Suddenly, the little girl he’d sworn to protect ‘until the end of the world’ had grown up. She didn’t need him any more. He should have been glad to have the burden removed… but instead he felt slightly hurt.

Here she was, all dressed up in her pale blue ball dress, just turned eighteen and ready to face the world alone. He had to let her go at some point, he knew. And, despite his initial reluctance, he was proud to be the reason she was at her Prom.

The first song ended, and, true to her word, Dawn let him stop dancing. “All right?” he asked. She nodded and gave him a hug.

“Yeah. Thank you.” With that, she found Janice and her other friends and joined their little dancing group as the next song started, leaving Spike to finally escape the dance floor. Instead, however, he abandoned that plan and followed her through the crowd, tapping her lightly on the shoulder when he got close enough.

She spun around, obviously not anticipating him in the least. “Oh. Hey again.”

He wasn’t quite sure how to go about this without possibly embarrassing her. “Uh… was just… wonderin’. Do you… uh… know how to waltz?”

She and Janice were simultaneously hit by an attack of the teen giggles as they exchanged a glance, but it didn’t appear to be directed at him. Dawn recovered and looked at him. “No… why?” she asked, suspiciously and slightly expectantly.

He scratched the back of his head. “Thought maybe I could… um… teach you. If you want. Seeing as it’s your Prom an’ all.”

She grinned and put all his fears of making an idiot of himself to rest. “I’d love that.”

Janice giggled again and frowned, semi-annoyed, at her boyfriend, watching as Dawn eagerly followed Spike to an empty space on the floor. Why couldn’t she have had an interesting date like Bill?

Buffy watched out of the corner of her eye as she discussed her counselling approach with the head of the maths department, wondering what Spike and Dawn were doing. It looked like… yes… Spike was teaching Dawn to dance. She shook the disbelief from her features and excused herself from the table, getting up and moving to the small punch bar, where she had a better view. Yes. He was definitely teaching her to dance. And she seemed to be letting him. Well, weirder things have happened, she figured, pouring herself a glass of the strange, fruity concoction and settling down to watch them.

Dawn stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth, concentrating, watching Spike’s feet. This waltzing thing was proving trickier than she’d thought. Eventually, though, she got the hang of it to enough of a degree that she could follow him without tripping over, and she looked up to face him. “So,” she said, “how come you know how to do this?”

He kept his voice low in case anyone overheard. He didn’t want the entire of Dawn’s year to know he was over a century old. “Did you forget who I used to be? When I lived? Everyone had to learn to do this when I was a boy.”

“Cool,” she decided. “And you remember it?”

He nodded. “Mm. Kinda like ridin’ a bike, I suppose. Somethin’ you never forget.”

“Oh.” She giggled to herself. “I bet you never learnt to music like this, though, huh?”

“No, thankfully,” he admitted. “Back in the day we had things known as ‘tunes’.”

Dawn swatted him on the arm in mock indignation. “Hey, it’s not that bad…” Their conversation stopped briefly, as Dawn resumed concentrating on the moves he’d taught her. She let her thoughts wander somewhat randomly, her gaze scanning the crowd absently. Her eyes fell on her sister, who was still watching with a small smile on her face. “Spike?” she asked.

“Yeah?”

“Do you…” She trailed off, deciding to leave her question unsaid.

“Do I what?” he prompted.

She sighed. “Do you regret coming here tonight? With me, I mean. I know you were gonna go with Buffy before, so…”

Spike thought about it for a few seconds and then looked at her seriously. “No, Dawn. I don’t.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cos you can go dance with her, if you want.”

“Been dancin’ with her for the past seven years. ‘Bout time I danced with you, don’t you think?” That raised a smile from her, but there was obviously still something troubling her. “What is it?”

“Oh… nothing… just thinking…”

“What about?”

“Life. In general. Mine.”

“Getting pre-college nerves already?” he asked, teasing her.

“Kinda…” She thought how best to phrase it. “It’s like… I wanna move on… but I don’t. I’m just gonna miss everyone so much… especially you.”

Spike stopped moving for a moment and looked at her. “You know, if you need anything, just to call home and let someone know-“

“I know that, Spike,” she reassured him. “If I need anyone scaring, you’ll be the first one I ask for.” She grinned. “Besides, I bet you ‘n’ Buffy’ll be glad to get me out of the way.”

“Nibblet, you were never in the way,” he told her, momentarily forgetting her rule on no pet names. Dawn smiled widely, and neither of them said anything else for a long time…