"Buffy?" Dawn whispered, maneuvering her carryon so she could lean into her ear. "Um... who the hell is that?"

At the edge of the small crowd at the terminal gate, a pretty, petite redhead was holding up a large posterboard sign that read "WELCOME HOME, BUFFY DAWN & GUYLES!"

"Dear Lord," Giles muttered. "I go away for three years, and they forget how to spell my name?"

"It's a joke!" the girl cried happily, moving towards them. "Guy-les. Get it? Because Warren did not program me to pronounce your name properly! My programming has since been corrected, Giles. See? Welcome home, Giles. It's nice to see you again, Giles. I made the sign myself. It's in Emmascript. That's my favorite font."

"You're... you're the Bot," Giles stammered.

"Yes, I am! You do not recognize me because Fred altered my facial structure so I would no longer resemble Buffy. I have brown eyes now and a modified nose and Angelina Jolie championship dick-sucking lips."

Giles blinked. "How very nice for you."

"Oh, they're not for me. They're for Clem. He's my boyfriend now. I no longer have sex with Spike, although I have offered many times."

"You're quite certain you were programmed by Fred and not Anya?"

"Anya's computer expertise is generally limited to financial and accounting software and looking up internet pornography, although many people have mistaken us for sisters due to our similar speech patterns and general lack of tact." The Bot tilted her head to one side, regarding Giles. "97.4 of the time, Spike finds it very amusing when I speak with my tact filter off. Wesley finds it amusing 54.3 of the time. You are also British, but you are not laughing; would you prefer I put my filter on?"

"Please," Giles begged.

"How lovely to see you three again," the Bot said prettily. "I am looking forward to spending more time with all of you. May I take anyone's bag? I can carry many things."

"Nobody else came?" Buffy said, looking around the terminal. "They just sent... you?"

"Oh, no. Xander and Spike are also here. The screen said that your flight was going to be arriving late, so they went away in order that Xander could get a corndog and Spike could smoke a cigarette. They should be back at any moment. The reason there are only three of us is because we had three cars to use and we thought you would have a great deal of luggage. Xander, Spike and I are the strongest and most capable luggage-carriers besides Angel, who couldn't come because Connor swallowed a K'northlar scale and they have to wait for it to come back out. The others didn't come to leave room for the luggage and are going to meet us at the Magic Box. Everyone is very fond of you and their absence in no way reflects on their emotional attachment." The Bot smiled. "Have I successfully answered all the nuances of your question?"

"Um, yeah..." Buffy's eyes flicked over to Giles, "I think that... pretty much covers it..."

"Let's make small talk! The weather is very nice today. Buffy, I like the changes you have made to your hair's color and length. Giles, that sweater is a lovely color on you. And Dawn, you have grown impressively in both height and cup size since I saw you last."

"Perhaps we could... forego the small talk?" Giles asked politely.

"Would you like me to permanently delete it as an option from my conversation with Giles menu?"

"Er... that would be fine, yes."

"They're coming towards us," Dawn whispered, a secret little smile growing on her lips.

--------------------------------------------------

"They've landed," Spike said suddenly, punching Xander lightly in the arm. "C'mon, let's go."

"Hang on a sec," Xander protested, maneuvering his corndog under the mustard pump. "You can seriously tell that she's landed? I thought it wasn't that specific."

"Well, she was thattaway," Spike pointed to the ceiling, "And now she's thattaway." He lowered his arm. "Either the plane landed or she bloody well fell out of it, I'm rather hopin' it's the former."

"God, I bet they have so much luggage," Xander groaned, carefully making tidy yellow swirls. "Buffy in Paris for three years on Giles' dime? There's gonna be seven bags for shoes. Especially since the non-slayage means her clothing has a higher survival rate. Back's hurting just thinking about it."

"Harris, it's a soddin' condiment, squirt it on the bloody thing and let's go."

"Ease up, Evil Dead," Xander laughed. "Buffy will still be around to reject you in a minute. I like an even mustard coverage."

"It's all gonna mix together in your mouth anyway."

"Yeah," Xander said firmly. "Evenly."

"Wanker," Spike swore, grabbing Xander firmly by the lapel of his jacket and hauling him bodily away from the hot dog stand, a stream of mustard flying in their wake.

"Hey!" Xander cried, struggling to get his feet back under himself. "You made a mess on the floor."

"Gonna be your brains if you don't bloody hurry up," Spike pushed Xander ahead of him.

"Whatever, Chips Ahoy. Besides, they've gotta get off the plane and all that stuff." Xander bit into his corndog, talking around a mouthful. "This would be so much better if you'd let me get the mustard right."

"Be better if you came with a soddin' mute button."

"Goes both ways, pal. Goes both ways." Xander swallowed. "So what's the freakin' rush?"

"I just wanna see..." Spike paused awkwardly. "... them."

"Spike, I'm gonna say a phrase, okay? 'Out of sight, out of mind'. She's been gone for three years. This obsession of yours left 'pathetic' in the dust sixteen exits ago, okay? You've been livin' la vida monk-a and Buffy's probably engaged to some guy named Pierre."

"That'd be bloody funny," Spike mused. "Think the Slayer ever learned to speak French? Wonder how you translate 'unmixy' an' 'wiggins'?"

"Maybe you just say 'em all snooty-like. 'Allo, I am Booffee, zees ting and me, vee arrr tehrriblee unmixzee, no? Sooch a wiggeenz eet geeves me, mon dieu!'"

"Never go to France, Harris, you'd be burned alive by an angry mob minute you landed." Spike drawled, then perked up. "On second thought, go to France."

"Hey, I went to France. I just didn't have to be ripped away from it screaming by the long arm of the Council."

"Kinda gives you that warm fuzzy feelin', donnit? Knowin' she had to be basically court-martialed before she'd come for a visit?"

"Hey, speak for yourself, Dead Boy... whoa!" Xander stopped in his tracks, eyes on the very appealing backside of a brunette walking to the bathroom. "Daddy like."

"Will you hurry it..." Spike froze next to Xander, and the brunette turned around.

"Oh God," Xander cried in horror, choking on his corn dog. "Oh God. Oh. Oh! No! 'Daddy'... no, I wasn't... when I was looking, I wasn't... oh, God!"

"Bloody hell... Nibblet," Spike breathed in shock.

"She's uh, she's, um, changed, um, some, uh... grown. Taller." Xander stammered. "Not that I, uh, noticed, because uh... personality! Great personality... help?"

Dawn's eyes widened in recognition. "Spike? Xander?"

Xander let out a feeble little finger-wave.

"Ohmigod!" Dawn flew across the terminal, pouncing on them both at once, an arm around each of their necks. "Ohmigod, it is so good to see you guys!"

"Nice to hear the patented shriek has lost none of it's glass-shatterin' potency, Nibblet," Spike drawled.

"Shut up. You're happy to see me, you just won't admit it."

"I'll admit it," Spike laughed. "C'mere, pidge."

She disentangled her left arm from Xander's neck and wrapped both around Spike, hugging him fiercely. "I missed you! I missed this stupid coat and your silly hair and... hey! No gel! You're all curlified!"

"Same to you," he grinned, pulling on a lock of her hair.

"Eh, I've got plane-head. There's probably a big dent in the back from where that kid wouldn't quit kicking my seat. You look nice, though." She regarded him solemnly. "Curlified is definitely of the good."

Xander cleared his throat pointedly, and Dawn turned to hug him, squeezing tight. "Mmm, huggy like a bear."

"That's a nice way of saying I've gotten fat, right?" Xander ran his hand over Dawn's hair, and Spike tried to keep the muscle in his jaw from twitching.

"Not fat. Fluffy. And flannel shirt, mmm. I could so sleep on you."

Spike's eyes narrowed as Xander's flew wide in embarrassed horror. Dawn didn't seem to notice, springing back from Xander to bounce on the toes of her feet. "I'm gonna go get Buffy. She's gonna be so excited...! I'll be right back!"

"My God," Xander moaned as soon as she left earshot. "She has no idea, none, what she looks like now, does she?"

"Wanna help me kill anything that notices?" Spike growled.

Xander stuck his hand out, and Spike shook it.

"Buffy... look who I found!" Dawn exclaimed happily, dragging Buffy over by the hand with Giles and the Bot following after.

"Hey, Xander. Hey, Spike," Buffy said quietly, clutching her bag.

"Slayer," Spike nodded politely.

"Hey, Buffster, I don't expect the full-on, Dawn-style sonic attack, but you could give the Xan-Man a hug," Xander opened his arms, and Buffy stepped into them, setting her bag down at his feet.

"Hi, Xander." She squeezed him gently. "Sorry I'm not a squealapalooza. Really long flight."

"A long flight which, unlike Dawn, we did not spend consuming caffienated sugar water as fast as the stewardesses could provide it," Giles smiled, extending his hand for Xander to shake. "It is good to see you again, Xander."

"Watcher," Spike nodded.

"Spike," Giles nodded right back.

"Can we go to the Magic Box now?" Dawn asked. "I want to see everybody, and... oh, God! Pizza! Can we order a pizza? Oh -- and donuts? Donuts. And oh, hamburger... can we get a hamburger pizza? Spike, can you still make those onion things? Would you make one of those onion things? I would love you forever..."

"Bloody well better do that anyway."

"Yeah, but I'd love you forever and I'd..." Dawn's face lit up in a sly smile. "I will make you Dawn Surprise... yooou loooove Dawn Surprise..."

"Been too long since I had Dawn Surprise," Spike grinned. "You've got a deal."

"Shall we go see if our bags have come off the carousel?" Giles suggested, leading Buffy and Dawn towards baggage claim.

Xander leaned over to whisper in Spike's ear. "What the hell is 'Dawn Surprise'?"

"Whatever leftovers she finds in the refrigerator, all mixed together with ketchup and sprinkles of every bloody spice on Joyce's rack," Spike grinned in fond memory. "Pretty tasty."

"You're a sick, sick, sick, sick man."

"Less talking, boys," Buffy smiled, shoving the first of many suitcases into Xander's arms. "More carrying."

"Merciful Zeus," Xander moaned. "What the hell is in here, Buffy? Bricks?"

"What can I say?" Buffy grinned impishly over her shoulder. "They were on sale."

--------------------------------------------------

"Well, considering this is my car, I rather suppose my selection is made," Giles settled the suitcase he carried into the back of the convertible.

"I have been taking very good care of it," the Bot said. "I downloaded the entire manual and the contents of several automotive websites. She runs like a dream."

Pain seared across Giles' face as he turned to Spike. "You let... a robot... drive my car?"

"She looked like Buffy," Spike drawled. "She didn't drive like her."

"Well," Giles sighed. "That is a rather enormous relief."

"Hey!" Buffy cried indignantly.

"I think you'd better be with me, Buff," Xander said, eyeing the pile of suitcases. "I've got the SUV of rugged manliness and massive storage."

Spike turned his eye on the pile with a groan. "How many of those yours, Nibblet?"

"Um... that green one. That red one. And the little black one with the star on the front."

Spike shot Xander a nastily triumphant look. "Knew I liked you for a reason, Bit."

"All the rest of these are yours, Buffy?"

Spike managed to wedge the black one underneath his arm, getting the others in each hand and shooting an innocent smile at Xander. "Right. Well, that's all we've got... see you at the shop..."

"Nuh-uh-uh, Evil Dead. You don't weasel out of..."

"But Xander," Dawn protested, puppy-dog eyes boring into Xander's soul. "We've gotta pick up the pizza... and the donuts..."

Xander turned to Spike with a glare. "Words cannot express my loathing for you. Go."

Spike blew him a kiss and popped the DeSoto's trunk.

--------------------------------------------------

"You're welcome," Dawn said cheerfully as Spike shut the driver's side door.

"How come your sis owns twenty times more crap than you, Bit? She n' the Watcher been keepin' you locked in an attic n' feedin' you arsenic donuts?"

"I can't believe you read those crap books."

"Says the girl who caught the ref right off."

"No, see... I have a beautiful system. We have the basic Dawn essentials, to minimize on Dawn-related laundry duties. In case of dire outfit need, we move to Buffy closet theft. Plus, she gets pissed off when I wear her stuff 'cause my legs are longer. Bonus."

Oh, bloody hell, why had she said that... now he'd had to go and look. Distract, distract...

"Big Sis seemed kinda subdued, pet. Everything all right there?"

Dawn's enthusiasm slid a notch. "She really didn't want to come back. No offense or anything against you guys. She just... kinda got a taste of what it would be like to not be the Slayer, y'know? I think she liked it."

"Imagine she would," Spike lit a cigarette.

"Do you know where we're staying tonight?"

"Imagine Rupert'll probably take the couch at his old flat. Doubt Anya'll mind. Think Harris has a closet he calls an extra bedroom, I've got a spare room, Bot n' Clem might put someone up..."

"You have a spare room?"

"Harris helped me put one in," Spike said, eyes darkening. "Glinda gets in a real bad way, the whole... swirly Key whatever makes her feel better... don't bloody well know why, but there you go. Red brings her down an' we have ourselves a little slumber party."

"Do you paint your fingernails and talk about boys?"

"Now how'd you guess, love? Do so fancy that boy from N'Sync."

Dawn narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion. "Oh yeah? Which one?"

"One that sings like a bint and prances around grabbin' himself."

"That so does not narrow it down."

Spike's head whipped around. "Oh, Nibblet. Don't tell me the boy-band phase is over...?"

"I went to see Tool in London," Dawn grinned.

Spike heaved a sigh of relief. "I could bloody kiss you."

A moment of awkward silence filled the DeSoto, and Spike made a production out of ashing his cigarette. "No more synchronized wankers squealin' 'girl' over n' over like it'd make any of 'em quit bein' one? Might just be the best bloody day of my life."

"The last CD I bought was by the Dead Kennedys."

Spike sighed in bliss.

"So..." Dawn said carefully, twisting her hands around in her lap, "I guess you want Buffy to stay with you, huh? Now that you're all confirmed with the White Hat, time to make your big play, right...?"

Spike shot her an unreadable look. "That what you want me to do?"

"Well... sure, yeah! I mean... you've been all up some Buffy for like, four years now."

"Suppose I have at that." he ashed out the window. "Was thinkin' of askin' her if you could stay, though. Stocked up on junky crap you like, but... doubt she'd let you anyway."

"Oooh, what kind of junky crap?"

"Got those stripey Little Debbies, an' those puddin' packets, little pizza bite things... some of that powdered crap you stick the sugar stick into..."

"Oh my God. You got Lik-em-aid? I totally didn't think they even made it anymore."

"That's what they call it?"

"I know, sounds dirty, doesn't it?"

Spike froze, and Dawn laughed. "Spike... I'm eighteen, hello? You don't have to do the thing where you brain-freeze before something comes out of your mouth that could sully my tender ears... and while I'm on the topic? You don't have to ask Buffy if I can come over and play anymore, either."

"This mean you don't want to braid each other's hair and watch Teletubbies?"

"You don't have enough hair to braid, stupid." Dawn eyed his hair critically. "I could give you really, really, really small dreads..."

"Only if I get to give you a mullet."

"Over your dead body."

"Others have found that a rather pleasant experience, love." Spike curled his tongue behind his teeth, then retracted it in horror. "Oh hell, Nibblet, I'm sorry."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Don't be lame. I just told you, I'm eighteen. Take the filter off already."

"Filter comes off 'round anythin' with double exes an' it's not a pretty sight, pet."

"Oh, God!" Dawn cried in mock-horror, curling up her hands Scream Queen style. "Spike might play-flirt with me, like he does with Willow and Tara and Anya and every other female on the planet! How will I ever cope?"

"S'different," Spike pouted.

"Dork. You never treated me like a kid when I was one, why start now?"

He shot her a look. "Aww, come off it. You didn't really think I rescued some little girl from a coal bin, did you?"

"No, I thought you ate her. Not stupid! You sanitized that story for Buffy's protection, not mine. You were totally gonna tell me the scary version until she came in."

"Was not."

"Was too. And I bet you were gonna make it extra gory, like with intestines bursting everywhere, just to watch me squirm, right?"

"Well, yeah, most like," Spike confessed with a grin.

Dawn leaned back, letting her fingers trail along the edge of the window. "Y'know... it's weird. What you were saying, about not really knowing how to treat me like I'm eighteen? It's like... now that I'm here... I don't really know how to act eighteen, y'know? It's like... it's not who I am here. I saw you and Xander and it was like... all of a sudden I needed to be wearing sneakers and babysat wherever I went again and rescued a lot."

"You'll figure it out, love. After all, Sunnyhell's the place where I come to kill your Sis an' make with the Big Evil, an' I seem to have mostly gotten over that."

Dawn turned to him, and he noted in shock that her head was tilted, her tongue curled playfully behind her teeth. "Only mostly?"

"Stealin' my moves now, love? Got a duster I should know about?"

"Sorry," she grinned. "Force of habit."

His eyes narrowed.

"Well... it always worked for you. I... may have added it to my toolbox."

She laughed at the low growl from his throat, then bit her lip. "Spike? Do you still have it?"

He didn't have to ask. "Permanent scar, pet. Only other girl's ever had that honor was that Chinese Slayer with the blessed sword. Now that? Stung like a sonofabitch."

"Eyebrow?"

"Yeah." He tossed his cigarette out the window.

"Can I see it? Not the eyebrow, the..." Dawn smiled nervously. "The other. Y'know."

"It's on the window side, pidge. Show it to you when we get out for the donuts, all right?"

"Aw, c'mon, I've seen you drive and smoke and drink blood and eat a cheeseburger and fold a map at the same time, I know you can..."

Dawn reached across the top of the bench seat, trying to get him to turn and face her; her fingers slipped through the silky white hair at the nape of his neck, her fingertips brushing over the broken oval of the scar...

And Spike arched against the seat, inhaling with a hiss as his jaw clenched, knuckles whitening on the steering wheel as his eyes slammed closed... a moment before he managed to wrench them back open.

Dawn jerked her hand back, blinking in amazement.

"Bloody hell, Nibblet! Do... not... do that when I'm tryin' to drive! Coulda killed us both!"

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I... I didn't know it was going to... I'm sorry..."

"Not... mad at you, Sweet Bit, just... not... safe n' all..."

"You okay? You're breathing really weird..."

"Don't need... to breathe, not gonna... hurt me..."

"Has it... has it ever done that before?"

Spike shook his head, still rattled; the hand that reached for his cigarettes shook, and Dawn gently removed the pack from his hand.

"That's not what happens when someone touches mine," Dawn said quietly, pulling a cigarette from Spike's pack and placing it between her lips. "It's not all... violent like that, it just feels... wrong."

She lit the cigarette, passing it to him. "Really, really wrong."

He nodded thanks and inhaled. "Same here, love. Angel touched it last week, nearly bloody punched his lights out."

"This guy... in Britain. Buffy set me up with him, Buffy's always after me to date... blah blah blah, you know how she can get, and he..."

"Touched it. I know." Spike raised his cigarette to his lips. "Felt it, actually."

"You... felt it? No way. Seriously? All the way over..."

"Bot said I vamped out and started growlin'."

"Um... Spike? Do you think that... that if you touched mine, it would... do the same thing?"

His smile was tight and strained. "Probably better if we don't go 'round playin' with those."

Dawn smiled a little. "Not safe cartime toys?"

"Not safe anytime toys." He still wouldn't look at her.

"But... I can stay with you? That's... that's okay? I think I'd be more comfortable, and I... I mean, how am I supposed to resist the sinister attraction of Zebra Cakes?"

"'Course you can stay with me, Nibblet. Bloody well yours until the end o' the world, right?"

She took his hand. "Right."