"Hey there, little bit," said Spike.
"Hey," said Dawn, sitting down beside him. They sat in his dusty crypt for a few silent moments.
"How's your big sis?" asked Spike, finally.
"You always ask me that," said Dawn, a little miffed.
"So?"
"Why don't you ever ask how *I* am?"
"Because I know how you are," Spike said smoothly.
"You do?" asked Dawn, surprised. "How am I, then?"
"Magnificent," said Spike.
"Was that a compliment?" asked Dawn.
"Sort of."
"So you don't really know?"
"Exactly." Spike lit a cigarette and took a drag.
"You shouldn't be smoking those around me," said Dawn. "Secondhand smoke, you know. I could get sick."
"Oh." Spike put the cigarette out with his foot. "Right."
Dawn looked at him. "I didn't think you'd actually listen."
"Why wouldn't I?" asked Spike, looking slightly offended. "You're Buffy's little sis."
"Right. Buffy's little sis." Dawn sighed heavily. "That's all, right? Nothing else?"
"What d'you mean?" Spike looked confused.
"I'm just Buffy's little sister, Spike! Right? That's it," said Dawn angrily.
"What are you talking about, Dawnie?"
"That's all you see me as. Heck, that's all anybody sees me as," said Dawn. "Just Buffy's little sister. I hate it."
"You're not *just* anything, Dawnie," Spike said. "You're you. Isn't that enough?"
"No," snapped Dawn. "Tell me the truth, Spike, okay? Do I mean anything to you?"
"'Course you do," said Spike.
"What?"
Spike crossed the room.
"I don't know," Spike said. "I can't say."
"Can't say what?" Dawn is about to ask when the door swings open and Buffy stalks in.