She had almost reached the front door when her sister's voice rang out from the kitchen, stopping her in her tracks.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Rolling her eyes and steeling herself for a fight, Dawn called back in the most cheerful, cooperative tone she could muster, "To Janice's, Buffy. I told you."
"Um, no you didn't. And you're not going anywhere until you've done your homework." Buffy came into the living room, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
"I'm going to Janice's to do my homework."
Buffy snorted. "I look stupid to you?"
"You want me to answer that?"
"Dawn. Don't make this into a knock-down drag-out. You know I'll win. Just go upstairs, do your homework, pretend for once that we're a nice happy family."
"Buffy, come on. You told me I could go to Janice's, I told her I was coming over, and I'm not going to flake on her just because you were too busy thinking about riding your vampire to remember giving me permission."
"Riding my—Dawn!"
"She's right, you know," Spike said, giving Dawn a casual wink as he appeared in the doorway behind Buffy and placed his hands on her waist.
She shook him off irritably. "Not now, Spike. Dawn, this is not a debatable topic. Get upstairs and do your homework You can hang with Janice tomorrow, not on a school night."
Dawn glared at her sister with the heat of a thousand suns. "Don't pretend you're in charge around here just because you chose to remember that I exist this week." She reached down to grab the backpack that had fallen at her feet and turned her back on her sister and her former best friend. "I'll be at Janice's." She pulled the door open and flinched when it slammed in her face before she could set one foot outside. She spun around to see Spike towering above her, smelling of smoke and leather and familiarity (how many times had she cried in those arms, while Buffy was gone, and relished the scent that was so uniquely Spike), bracing himself with his hand resting on the door over her head.
"Skip the tantrum, Little Bit. You heard your sister," he said, and his blue eyes were soft as always when he looked at her but brooked no argument.
"But…so what, Spike, you're going to take her side all the time now?" Dawn couldn't keep the hurt, betrayed note out of her voice. "Just because she decided life sucks so much she can actually give you the time of day and not hate herself for it in the morning? You're going to choose this version of Buffy who's not much realer than the Bot over me?"
Spike shot a glance Buffy's way, then fixed his gaze on Dawn again. He tried to make his expression gentle even though her words were pushing him to the end of his patience, knowing full well that dealing with this one when she was in a state was tricky, volatile business, like defusing a bomb. If Buffy hadn't been there he might have taken a stronger approach, but he thought she didn't need to witness a fight between her little sis and her … whatever he was to her. "Dawn, listen to me, and stop being so very fifteen. I'm taking her side because she's in charge around here, and you need to start getting used to that arrangement. It'll be easier for everyone if you do."
"I don't have to do what she says."
Done with gentle, Spike's eyes hardened, and he took Dawn by the arm and began steering her toward the stairs. "Then you'll do as I say. Get your scrawny ass upstairs and do your homework. No funny business; I could hear your window opening from a mile away, if I was listening for it. And believe me, I'll be listening."
Dawn glared at her friend with tears shimmering in her eyes. "You never cared about me, did you? It was always about her. Now that she's back, you have no use for me anymore. I see how it works. I hate you. Both of you." With that, she flounced up the stairs in a fan of long, shiny brown hair; moments later, her bedroom door slammed so hard the windows rattled in their frames.
"She's got you beat in the ability to piss me off department, you know that? And that's no mean feat," Spike said dryly. "You're damn lucky I didn't just kill her while you were gone, as much teenage drama as I had to put up with. Protected her every second, I did; let her talk to me about sodding boys, didn't track down the ones she mentioned by name and rip their arms off. Could've, you know. And what thanks do I get? Bitchy looks and slamming doors. No respect. Kids today…"
"Spike?"
He stopped muttering and cocked an eyebrow at Buffy. She was smiling, a tight, thin-lipped smile, but a smile nonetheless. His heart melted a little at the sight. "What?"
"Parenthood agrees with you."
"Par—oh, bloody hell, Slayer, that's not funny! I'm as big and bad as ever, or didn't you notice? Just because I have a bit of a … weakness … for girls with the last name Summers doesn't mean for one second that I the word 'parent' belongs in the same vicinity. Just stop that."
Buffy came over and wrapped her arms around him, tilting her head back to look up into his face. "I think it's sweet, how much you care about my sister."
"S'not going to stop me from snapping her neck next time she gets all sassy, mark my words."
"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Big Bad. Truth is, that girl has you wrapped around her infuriating little finger, and you know it. She knows it too, though, so don't let her play you."
"You aren't bothered by the things she says? She digs deep, that one."
"She does. And it hurts, especially the true parts. But I guess she's entitled to some resentment. She'll get over it. The other day when we were actually getting along for a minute, she told me she's happy we're together … but she wanted to make sure I wasn't using you. I actually think she asked me what my intentions are." Buffy bit the corner of her lip against another smile. "Sweet, huh?"
Spike tried and failed to scowl darkly. "God, I've hit a new low when a little girl thinks she can protect me from heartbreak. My demon perishes the thought."
Buffy strained on her tiptoes to kiss him; he returned the gesture emphatically, and his hand slipped up under her shirt and began to explore … and suddenly she caught his wrist and pulled away. "Not now," she chided. "I've got to go talk to her. Maybe I did tell her she could go to Janice's. I really don't remember, and that 'riding my vampire' thing? Not altogether wrong."
"Can't change the rules now, Buffy. You've got to be firm, consistent. Don't let her think she's winning."
"Is that how you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Come on, Spike. You've got a way of making her do what you tell her to do. She argues, she spits fire, but she does it in the end. It's impressive."
"Don't ask me questions like I'm bloody Dr. Phil. I don't know why she listens; I guess she knows I could tear her to pieces if I'd a mind to."
"She knows you'd sooner tear yourself to pieces."
"Let's talk about something else, yeah? This is doing nothing for my image. I just want to—" Spike suddenly broke off and cocked his head, listening. "I'll be right back. Time to call her bluff." He took the stairs in long strides, three at a time, and opened Dawn's door without knocking. She was sitting by the open window, backpack in hand, but she didn't look surprised to see him there, which confirmed his suspicion that she'd just been testing him.
"Going somewhere, Bit?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
"Not anymore." She gave him a fleeting glance through wisps of her long hair and then looked at the floor. "Shouldn't you be downstairs ravaging my sister now that you got the pest out of the picture?"
Spike restrained a full-body eyeroll as he perched on the foot of her bed and regarded this damaged child who was fast growing into a damaged young woman. "Remember the fireflies?" he asked.
Dawn nodded. As if she could ever forget. Buffy was newly dead, and the rest of them were as good as. It was unbearable to witness the sickening speed of their collective unraveling, as if Buffy had been the seam. She'd found him in the cemetery, curled in a broken, black-leather-clad ball in a dark corner next to a giant headstone, taking huge gasping swigs from a near-empty bottle of something harsh. He'd looked up when her moon-shadow fell over him, bleary-eyed and radiating an unspeakable pain. Neither said a word. She sat down next to him, so close their shoulders were touching, and she breathed deeply of the comforting Spike-scent that would fast become her touchstone. They shared their agony, their silence, and Spike's liquor. Time grew ephemeral, impossible to measure, above all, insignificant. And then the fireflies. Swarms of them, appearing with such suddenness that they could have been swept into this world from a portal to a dimension where all was compsed of flickering little beads of light. The fireflies came and the stillness lifted. Dawn lay her head on Spike's shoulder, he drew her against him and whispered words he'd never acknowledge later, words of comfort, and promise, and love, and regret. The fireflies came and the griefspell was broken.
"We're linked, you and me," he said now, eyeing the girl as she concentrated on counting individual carpet fibers. "And you still question my devotion."
"It's hard not to. I'm always getting pushed aside. I've hardly seen you since she came back."
"We're building something, Niblet. It's shaky business. I'm trying to get a good hold on her before I give her time and space to think it to death. She will if we let her, you know that." When Dawn didn't answer, he went on. "It doesn't mean anything's changed between us. You're mine; you'll always be mine. If things work out the way I hope they will, that will be even more certain. We've got a chance here, Bit; don't you want to see it happen?"
"I want you and Buffy to be together. I don't want to be a third wheel for the rest of my life."
"Never. You know better. We'll be a family if I have my say. And either way, you're stuck with me. I'm sworn to you till the end of everything. Got it?"
Dawn considered at length, and at last a flicker of a smile played at the corners of her mouth. "Are you going to go to PTA meetings and stuff?"
"Bite your tongue."
"And, oh, God, if you and Buffy end up together, does that mean you're going to butt into my love life forever?"
"What love life? You're not dating till you're thirty, regardless of Buffy's and my relationship status."
"Because there's this guy in my science class who's been talking to me. He's a senior, and so cute! I think he might ask me to Prom."
Spike buried his face in his hands. "Kill me."
"You're already dead."
"Stake me, then."
Dawn finally let a grin break through. "Only if you keep treating me like a speed bump on the road to eternal bliss with Buffy."
"If the shoe fits," Spike said, standing up and drawing her to him for a hug. "And I might consider letting you go on a chaperoned outing with a boy who meets my approval and holds up under my extensive battery of tests … but only if you will cut Big Sis some slack and stop being such a miserable wench whenever she tries to exercise her authority. Deal?"
Dawn looked up at him with an expression of pure horror. "Spike. If any guy has to meet you before I can go out with him? I swear, I'm going to become a nun."
He shrugged nonchalantly. "That a threat? I like that plan. Just have to hide the crucifixes when I come to visit." He turned to go back downstairs.
"Love you, Spike."
He froze for a second, then fixed her with a look that aimed for stern but fell far short. "Do your homework, Bit."
