Jhexel waited nervously at the foot of the stairs, staring up as though trying to force Spike to appear by sheer will, occasionally darting uncomfortable glances at the five ranged out around the living room. Xander and Tara were sitting on the couch, their heads together as they spoke quietly, pain evident in their voices. Xander's hand went out to clasp hers, fingers twisting together tightly against their loss. Dawn was pacing nervously along the length of the coffee table, her eyes restless as her gaze bounced between her feet and the landing above, sneaking one or two looks at the handsome boy in the hall. Her cheeks were pink – it didn't seem right to be crushing on him when her sister was upstairs in some kind of waking coma. But she just couldn't bear to sit with the quiet blonde witch that she had found such a friend in, not when she and Xander talked of Willow instead of Buffy, Willow, who had so endangered her sister with her wanton and careless magic.

"Dawn."

The teen's head jerked up, drawn by Anya's low voice. The ex-demon was sitting alone in a chair, watching the boy closely. She gesture Dawn over, speaking quietly without taking her eyes from the boy. "You should invite him in here," she said. "He won't intrude without permission. Ask his name. It will show him he's welcome, give him leave to talk to you."

Dawn's eyebrows lowered, surprised by Anya's helpfulness. Usually she was just blunt and kind of annoying, but this, this was her actually doing something nice. Dawn thought perhaps she was just doing it out of solidarity, connecting with the guy because he was a demon, but she guessed that it didn't really matter. She was grateful for the advice. Giving her a smile of thanks, she moved slowly into the entry-way.

The boy took a nervous step back towards the wall when he saw her coming, ducking his head low and looking down at the floor. Dawn stopped a few paces away, rubbing one arm nervously. She'd only spoken a handful of words to this guy, but there was just something about him... Another pang hit her somewhere in the vicinity of her heart – how unfair that she would choose now to get a crush, now, when things could be going so well but were going so badly. Remembering her decision to take up some responsibility, to be the grown up that she was, she pushed her urge to giggle girlishly and steeled her shoulders.

"Um, you can come in and sit with us… if you want," she said. She was disappointed when he didn't look up, didn't move, didn't react to her at all. Then she remembered what Anya had said. "What's your name?" she asked.

That seemed to do the trick. His head jerked up and he stared at her for a minute, his eyes dark - almost black. "My name is Jhexel miss," he said, his voice low and rumbly like Spike's was when he was mad.

"Jhexel? Cool," she smiled. "Kinda like pretzel, only with a J. Or… chex-el. Or…"

"Miss?"

Dawn blushed furiously. "Sorry. Um… I, I'm just worried about my sister, you know?"

"The Slayer," he said softly.

Dawn nodded, a tear slipping free. "She… she's not doing so good? And… and you know I just got her back and…"

It was clear that she was making him very uncomfortable from the way he was leaning back on his heels, getting as far away from her as he could without backing up again, looking nervously between the upper stairwell and her trembling lower lip, his hands fisting and relaxing at his sides, until she sucked it up and swiped away her tears, shaking her head.

"Sorry," she laughed nervously, a note of hysteria in her voice. "I'm Dawn."

"That's a nice name," he said politely.

"Thanks," she replied. "I like yours too. Listen…" she watched with concern as the boy went back to staring up at the landing, "Why don't you come sit down? It might be a little while."

"Yes miss."

"You can call me Dawn," she said, turning to head towards the kitchen, walking slowly to make sure that he followed. "Really, it's fine." Anya sent her a smile as she passed by her chair, and it reassured her. Leading Jhexel into the kitchen, she indicated one of the stools at the island, waiting for him to sit before she went to the pantry and started to rummage around. "So, you're Spike's friend?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Um… I don't know. I, I'm not sure."

"Yeah," Dawn sympathized, "He can be like that. Are you hungry?" She shook a crinkly bag at him, pulling a bowl down from the cabinet.

"What are they?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at the bag.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry," she said, one hand going to her mouth. "I mean, you can eat people food right?"

"I can, yes."

"Sorry, I didn't even think…" Dawn shook her head at her carelessness, opening the bag and filling up the bowl before setting it on the counter in front of him. "These are the pretzels I was talking about; the ones that sounded like your name? I guess I got so used to Spike eating people food, I didn't even think that maybe you didn't like it."

"But you like them?" he asked, picking one out of the bowl and twirling it between slim fingers, a black stone ring flashing on his thumb.

"Yeah, they're pretty good," she answered, taking a handful for herself. "Crunchy, salty…"

"Like scorpions?"

Dawn looked up with a quirked half-smile, almost laughing. "I guess," she chuckled.

And Jhexel grinned. Because just for a second, he had made this pretty girl with her sorrowful eyes smile.

Six blocks away, Willow finally broke.

Dropping to her knees on the curb, she let out a heart-rending scream and began to sob like a child. Her entire body was wracked with pain, her chest heaving with the effort of drawing breath between her cries. Her world was in ruins, utter desolation, and she had never felt so lost. Everything was gone; her best friends, her home, the girl she loved.

On some small level, she knew. Knew that it was her fault. Knew that she had caused herself this devastating pain. But there was a part of her too that was angry. If she had made a mistake it was in good faith, with the best of intentions. Who were they to berate her for that choice? It had brought Buffy back to them after all.

Suddenly she became aware of a hand on her shoulder; Amy, standing close at her side. For some reason she was repulsed by the other witch's touch and shrugged her off roughly, climbing to her feet and knuckling her eyes, scrubbing dirty tracks from her cheeks. Taking a shaky breath, she looked around the deserted street, trying to get her bearings. Finding herself alone, a hysterical little laugh bubbled out between her lips.

"Nowhere to go," she giggled frantically.

There was a moment of utter silence, and then Amy spoke.

"I know a place."

"Oh God," Spike whispered, cupping Buffy's face between his hands and brushing his thumbs over her cheekbones. "No sweetheart. No, you're here. You're right here, with me. We're right here." Desperate to dispel her fears, to relieve the vicious, slicing pain that laced its way through his chest, he pressed his lips to her forehead in a chaste and gentle kiss before pulling back, looking her straight in the eye. "You're not in hell baby. You're right here. Right here with me."

With a speed that surprised him after so many moments of deathly stillness, Buffy launched herself at him, burrowing into his chest and burying her face in his t-shirt, weeping quietly. Spike took her into his lap without hesitation, his arms banding tight around her small, shaking form, rocking her gently as she cried, murmuring nonsense in a low, quiet voice.

"Please," Buffy gasped, "Please Will'em. Don't let me go. Don't let me go back there."

"Never luv," he promised, his nose in her hair. "Never gonna let you go again."

It took an eternity, a lifetime for her to fall still in his arms, for her shaking to stop and her tears to slow, but he cherished every moment. Such violent, painful emotion was real, was true and living and bloody, and it was beautiful. To see her awake, aware, alive…

Spike smoothed her hair back from her temple, smiling down at her as she slowly began to pull herself together. She pushed herself upright and he let her break from him, though he wanted nothing more in that moment than to pull her closer. She seemed suddenly unsure of herself, suddenly shy, her eyes glued to the coverlet beneath her, unwilling to look at him. It might have cut him, if it hadn't been for the last twenty minutes of holding her.

But that didn't mean he knew what to do know.

For a minute they both sat side by side, staring down at their hands in their laps. Twice he started to speak but couldn't bring himself to break the silence. And then he couldn't bear it another second.

"Guess I should go let the Scoobies know you're awake," he said quietly. She didn't reply, so he pushed reluctantly from the bed, getting less than two steps away when a hand flashed out and caught his, holding him fast.

"Don't," Buffy pleaded, looking up at him with wide, fearful eyes. "Don't leave."

"Got to pet," he said apologetically. "Dawn at least deserves to know." He squeezed her fingers gently. "She's scared for you."

"Please Will'em," she begged him in a small, scared voice. "Please don't leave me."

"Not gonna leave you pet. I promise, yeah? Not gonna let you go till you say so. But we gotta tell your sister." He tugged gently for the release of his hand, but she only clung tighter. "Hey," he murmured, crouching down in front of her and cupping her cheek. "We'll go together yeah?"

Buffy stared up at him, eyes burning, and nodded her head, rising silently to her feet. Spike smiled softly and chucked her gently on the chin, then guided her towards the door, pleased when she followed compliantly behind him. Stepping out of the darkness of the tight little bedroom and into the brightly lit hallway, they descended the stairs hand in hand.