CAPS= Thoughts.
It was a warm September night. In the Summer's house, Spike sat on the couch watching old Passions reruns and eating Pringles. He had his arm around Dawn, keeping her close to him. He felt her warmth against his cold, dead body as she slept. He looked down at her innocent face and thought of her decease sister, who had kept him warm once too. He went over the night she died in his head, just as he did a million times before. He imagined himself saving her, being her hero... taking her home and... AND NOTHING, he thought. I LET HER DOWN. He sighed and went back to mindlessly glaring at the t.v.
Later that night, around 3:00, Spike jerked up his head, unarmed his Little Bit and watched the door, as he heard the lock being opened. He knew who was there, but he felt the need to be extra protective of who entered the house anyway. He wasn't gonna take any chances when it came to Dawn's safety. He could never let anything happen to her- it was the one promise he'd made to Buffy and he had every intention of not ever breaking it. After a few seconds, Holding hands, Willow and Tara walked in, looking slightly drowsy.
"Hey." Willow said as she flashed him a quick smile.
"'ello, love." Spike stood up, not caring that his chip crumbs fell to the floor.
The two witches observed the scene, happy that Dawn was sleeping.
"Thanks for looking after her." Tara thanked Spike. He nodded as he walked passed her and headed out the door.
Spike stood outside the Summer's house for a few minutes and smoked a cigarette, just like he always did when the witches came home after a night of patrolling with the rest of the scoobies. Through the window, he watched the light go on in Joyce's old room, now inhabited by Willow and Tara. He wondered if they were going to be making passionate love tonight or if they would just go to sleep. His attention was then drawn to Buffy's old room. He could've sworn he saw it lit up for a second in the corner of his eye. He kept starring at her window, hoping to see the light go on again. He kept asking himself who'd be going in there, especially at this time of night. He took his last cigarette pull. BUGGER THIS. MIND'S PLAYIN' TRICKS IS ALL, he thought as he threw his filter to the ground and walked off towards his crypt.
It was a warm September night. In the Summer's house, Spike sat on the couch watching old Passions reruns and eating Pringles. He had his arm around Dawn, keeping her close to him. He felt her warmth against his cold, dead body as she slept. He looked down at her innocent face and thought of her decease sister, who had kept him warm once too. He went over the night she died in his head, just as he did a million times before. He imagined himself saving her, being her hero... taking her home and... AND NOTHING, he thought. I LET HER DOWN. He sighed and went back to mindlessly glaring at the t.v.
Later that night, around 3:00, Spike jerked up his head, unarmed his Little Bit and watched the door, as he heard the lock being opened. He knew who was there, but he felt the need to be extra protective of who entered the house anyway. He wasn't gonna take any chances when it came to Dawn's safety. He could never let anything happen to her- it was the one promise he'd made to Buffy and he had every intention of not ever breaking it. After a few seconds, Holding hands, Willow and Tara walked in, looking slightly drowsy.
"Hey." Willow said as she flashed him a quick smile.
"'ello, love." Spike stood up, not caring that his chip crumbs fell to the floor.
The two witches observed the scene, happy that Dawn was sleeping.
"Thanks for looking after her." Tara thanked Spike. He nodded as he walked passed her and headed out the door.
Spike stood outside the Summer's house for a few minutes and smoked a cigarette, just like he always did when the witches came home after a night of patrolling with the rest of the scoobies. Through the window, he watched the light go on in Joyce's old room, now inhabited by Willow and Tara. He wondered if they were going to be making passionate love tonight or if they would just go to sleep. His attention was then drawn to Buffy's old room. He could've sworn he saw it lit up for a second in the corner of his eye. He kept starring at her window, hoping to see the light go on again. He kept asking himself who'd be going in there, especially at this time of night. He took his last cigarette pull. BUGGER THIS. MIND'S PLAYIN' TRICKS IS ALL, he thought as he threw his filter to the ground and walked off towards his crypt.