Spike sat in the cemetery thinking about what Dawn had said. "Why do you even bother…" he said to himself, quietly. He took a drag on his cigarette and looked up at the tombstone he sat in front of. "You know, she's just like you. Stubborn as hell and convinced she's always right." He took another drag and blew the smoke out, respectfully away from the stone. "Only this time she's right. I…I guess I've been…"

He stood up and started pacing in front of the headstone, his voice slowly rising. "Bloody hell, I don't know. I'm a vampire, for Christ's sakes. I'm not supposed to care about pushing her away. I'm not supposed to care about her hurt little feelings. I'm not supposed to care about any of them. Or anything!" He paused for a full minute, looking at the stone again. "Then why does it hurt so bloody much?" The bleached vampire sat down again, facing the marble, defeated. He hadn't cried for Buffy, not since that first night. And when he felt the tears welling up again, he pushed them back. He refused to cry again.

Spike hadn't heard anyone approach, and certainly hadn't seen them, as they stood behind him, listening. But as he took a deep breath, preparing to say goodbye for the night, a scent caught his attention, and he turned and stood in one fluid movement. The first punch took him off guard, and he landed back on his butt, staring up at a very angry young lady.

A very angry Buffy.

Spike was too stunned to do anything but sit on her grave and stare, slack jawed.

"What the hell are you doing here, Spike?" She had her hands on her hips, her eyes bright and narrowed with anger. "Are you here to gloat? To rejoice in your 'one good day'?"

The blonde vampire was awestruck, unable to speak. Of all of the ways he had imagined it would be if she came back, this was not one of them. And not for the first time, he was struck by how beautiful she was when she was angry. Her skin seemed to glow and her lips were pressed together tightly, as if she was struggling not to smile. Or struggling not to yell. And here she stood; in all her furious glory, and all Spike could do was stare.

"Answer me, you bleached idiot!" Her voice cracked almost imperceptibly and the shocked man on the ground noticed and stood, finally.

"Is it you?" He walked over to her, feeling like a dolt at the question, but didn't dare say anything else.

"Yes, its me. Who did you expect? Mona Lisa?" Her sarcasm was a little too insistent, as though she were trying hard to cover something up.

"How are you…why are you back?" There had to be a reason, he had to know.

For a moment, Buffy stared back at him, a mirror of his shock when she first made herself known. "I come back from the beyond and that is all you can say? WHY?"

This time Spike was prepared for the fist that was aimed at his chin. He caught her wrist and turned her, pulling her back against him. He felt the first tremor of her sobs and held her tighter, whispering in her ear. "Shhh, love, what's this really about?"

She waited a moment, trying to gather herself Spike assumed, before she spoke. "I…don't know. I wake up here, in the cemetery, I saw my grave…I heard you coming, and I hid." She took a deep breath, continuing. "I heard you. Talking to me…and I didn't know what to think, what to feel. So I got angry." She pulled out of Spike's grasp and turned to look at him. "Angry is so much easier."

Spike reached up and caressed her cheek lightly. "I know." He smiled at her lightly, "You look beautiful for being dead."

"Look who's talking," Buffy smiled for the first time since she'd punched him and the bleached vampire couldn't suppress his own grin. He leaned in and rested his forehead against hers, studying her eyes. He closed his eyes and went to plant a firm kiss on her now grinning lips, but a voice broke the moment.

"Hey, Evil Dead, what are you doing here?" It was Xander.

"Bloody hell." Spike opened his eyes, but it wasn't Buffy's forehead he was leaning against. It was her headstone. His eyes widened momentarily as he realized it had been another dream. "Bloody fucking hell."

"Uh, what's wrong, Spike?" Xander actually sounded a little nervous, which was ever so slightly appropriate, considering he just woke up a pissed off vampire from what looked like a pretty good dream. "Sorry I woke you, it just looked like you were uncomfortable."

Spike finally looked up at the boy, who really did look sorry. "S'alright, Xander. I can't believe I fell asleep here anyway." He got up off the grave and took one long look at the Slayer's grave, before turning to leave.

Taking notice of the bleached vamp's sullen attitude, Xander blurted out, before he could stop himself, "I know what you're feeling." He cursed himself silently for speaking at all, but figured he might as well continue, since his target was now looking at him like he'd grown a third arm. "I mean; I loved her too, once. If you need to talk to someone…" He let the invitation fade out, figuring if he actually said the words, it made them too close to being friends.

Spike was surprised at the boy's words, and was silent for a moment. When he did speak, he upheld Xander's law of the unspoken truth, and said simply, "Right then," and nodded in understanding. He then turned and walked away, leaving the boy to his own mourning.

When Spike finally made it back to his crypt, he lay awake thinking for hours, until he saw the sun peeking through the curtains. He decided that he had to find Dawn first thing tomorrow night and apologize. Because she was right. He was pushing her away; she deserved to know what he was going through.

With that thought, he slipped into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

***

Willow and Tara walked into the Magic shop at about two thirty the next afternoon, after Giles had called a Scooby meeting. Everyone else was already there and sitting around the table, expectantly.

"The fun can begin, we're here," she said, smiling. "So, what Big Bad are we dealing with today?"

Giles, having removed his glasses, was cleaning them as he spoke, "The old one, I'm afraid." Earning confused glances from everyone present, he continued. "It has come to my attention that our newest ally is still unable to move on, since Buffy's…passing."

Everyone thought about that for a second, all knowing whom he meant, and all had examples when they spoke next.

"He was so morose last night at the Bronze. I thought he was going to either start killing people or burst into tears." Willow contributed.

"Last week, when we were researching the Gital demon, I saw him reread the same page four times, and then he stared off into space for like ten minutes." Anya supplied.

"He just seems so sad, so not like himself." Tara had noticed a few things, as well, but they were all to do with aura and she didn't want to sound silly.

Everyone looked at Xander to see if he had noticed anything. "Well, last night, I went for a walk…" He didn't want to share that he had been on his way to Buffy's grave himself, but there weren't a whole lot of options if he was going to tell what he saw. "Well, I guess I was trying to patrol - " Cries of 'Xander, alone?' and 'That's not safe!' could be heard before he was allowed to continue. "Anyway, when I got around to Buffy's grave, Spike was there, asleep, leaning his forehead against the stone. He looked like he was dreaming, and I woke him up so the sun wouldn't get him." Had he been honest, he would have said it was because he wanted to mourn in peace. He was fine, not moping like Spike, but it still hurt sometimes, and last night he had wanted to visit his first love's grave, alone. "And he seemed surprised, almost disappointed that whatever he was dreaming wasn't real. I'd bet everything I own that it was about Buffy."

Everyone sat silent, thinking the same thing, but none wanting to say it. This was Spike, after all, who had been their enemy until just a few months ago. He had threatened each and every one of them with their lives, and had caused them all pain in one way or another.

And here they sat, worrying about his welfare.

"Its worse than I thought," Giles stated simply. "Someone needs to talk to him, to try to help him get past this. He's no help to us if he's this distracted."

Every pair of eyes turned to Xander, but he didn't want that job. "No way, uh-uh. I don't do heart to hearts with vamps. I'm sorry, guys, someone else gets the short straw this time."

"I'll do it," Willow's voice seemed meek, but everyone heard her anyway, and turned. "We've done the talking thing before, I'm sure I can help. I'll go tomorrow afternoon."

"What's tomorrow afternoon?" Dawn's chipper voice could be heard as she made her way into the Shop. "You guys plannin' something?"

They all looked at each other, wondering how much to tell Dawn. Giles had called the meeting in the early afternoon so that she wouldn't be around. He didn't want to worry the girl. "Nothing important, Dawn. How was school?"

Dawn looked at them suspiciously, knowing something was up, but decided to let it go. They'd tell her when they were ready. They always did. "Same ole, same ole. Unfortunately its still there."

Willow smiled at her as she sat down to the table with her geometry book in hand. She was so much like Buffy was, just five years ago. She wondered briefly how life would change Dawn, if she would turn into as brave a girl as her sister, if she would be as noble, or as loving. Willow still felt the pain, too, and always would, she imagined, at the loss of her best friend, but now her worry was aimed at Dawn and Spike. Dawn, because she was so much like Buffy, and Spike because even if he needed help, he wouldn't ask for it. Which was why she had decided to go to him.

***

When Giles and Dawn got home that evening after closing the shop, Spike sat on the front step waiting for them. As soon as the girl noticed the vampire, her demeanor turned cold, and Giles instantly took notice, but he left them on the porch to talk. Instead, he stood just inside the door, listening. Dawn tried to stomp past Spike on the porch, but he would have none of it.

"Come on, Nibblet, we need to talk." Spike really needed for her not to hate him, and he knew he could get her to forgive him if she would just talk to him.

"Whether we need to talk or not, you won't."

"I'm here, aren't I? I'm sorry about last night. I know I haven't been exactly share-guy, but…" he trailed off, unsure of how to continue. He didn't know how to make her understand what his heart and his brain were doing to him with the dreams.

Dawn saw his loss of words and immediately forgave him. All she wanted was for him to acknowledge that he'd been bottling things up. She sat down on the other side of the steps, facing him. "I know, Spike, its just not healthy. You gotta talk about what's going on with you."

The bleached vampire laughed a little. "You know, pet, its funny. I've always had a hard time expressing my emotions." He was thinking about his human life, and his 'bloody awful' poetry. "Even when I wanted to."

"So tell me now. What the problem was last night."

He sighed deeply and tried to think of what to tell her. "It's these dreams I keep havin'. More like nightmares, but not really. Buffy keeps coming back in them." He saw an expression float across the girl's features: understanding. She'd had them, too. "She comes back, and its great, just like I've pictured a thousand times, and when I wake up and she's not really there…" He let his words die, feeling as though tears would follow if he continued. After a moment, he met Dawn's eyes. "They're just…so real."

Dawn could see the unshed tears shining in her friend's eyes, but she could find no words to soothe him. She had had similar dreams, but they were all so obviously dreams and she never thought twice about them, once they were over. Unsure of what to say, she simply rose and walked over to where the vampire sat, throwing her arms around him in a short but meaningful hug.

Spike was a little uncomfortable at the display, but hugged her back, appreciating the concern behind it. He pulled away quickly, and changed the subject. "If you've finished all your homework, how about we have a night, pet? On me. We'll do whatever you like, and I'll pay."

The girl sitting next to him smiled broadly, and it struck him how much her smile was like Buffy's. He was shaking his head to expel the thought, when she spoke. "I've got the BEST idea!"

***

Three hours and one very bad horror movie later, Dawn was ready to drop, and Spike was just leaving. "I can't believe I let you rent that rot," he said, playfully. "Next time, I pick the movie, maybe I'll make you watch the original. The prom scene at the end, with all the pig's blood is enough to make my mouth water." He winked at her as she scrunched up her nose.

"Ewww, Spike! Enough imagery! Besides, there's no way some 1970's horror flick by some guy I've never heard of - "

"Stephen King! Horror legend and genius!"

" - could ever be better than Jason London, anyway." She finished her sentence and started up the stairs. "Night, Spike."

He watched her go up the stairs and turn into her bedroom. "Night, Nibblet." He walked out of his second home, and headed toward the cemetery for a round of patrol before bed. His thoughts turned back to the dreams as his feet led him down the walk and to the left.

From a window upstairs, Giles watched the vampire's brow furrow, suggesting he was still preoccupied with the dreams he had overheard them discussing earlier, despite his assertions that he had 'talked it all out' with Dawn. The Watcher shook his head slightly, feeling the vampire's pain, and made a mental note to mention the dreams to Willow before she went to talk to him the next day.