Spoilers: Season 5. This story takes place directly after "Crush"
Rating: PG
Content: Spike/Buffy
Disclaimer: They are Joss's! All Joss's! I'm just *cough* borrowing them for a bit.
Feedback: Your words are literally keeping me writing on this one. I need all the help I can get! Thanks!

Oh, PS! It gets a little silly (can't be gloom and doom *all* the time ;-) so bear with me, eh? :-)



Chapter Three


Joyce stood silently before the mirror, her eyes tracing over the golden curves which caressed the edges of the polished silver. It was a beautiful, if useful, piece, that Joyce had lugged around with her everywhere since the time she had inherited it from her grandmother when she was 28.

She straightened the mirror, smiling slightly as she looked at her reflection. It was a difficult task to find mirrors made out of polished silver nowadays, for the common glass/aluminium mixture was a lot easier to upkeep and much cheaper. But there was something about this silver and gold treasure that went beyond mere reflections and hit her very soul. She loved this piece, she always had.

Almost shyly, she touched the gold filagree with the tip of a finger. This mirror had seen so very much in its centuries of existence. In fact, it even had a place in the family legends.

Chuckling as she remembered the fantastic tale, she sat down in the beige executive chair in her office. One day soon, she should really tell Buffy and Dawn the tale. It had always hurt her feelings that the girls had long considered the mirror a hunk of junk, but perhaps the tale may change their minds. After all, her children's lives seemed to be one incredible legend after another.

Joyce frowned, her eyes darting to her bitten fingernails. The nailbiting was a new habit she had recently acquired when she found out her beloved youngest was supposedly nothing more than a mystical key. She trusted Buffy's judgement implicitly, but a part of her was convinced her daughter was mistaken. She must be. Dawn was her *daughter* and nothing could change it. Not her, not Buffy, and certainly not this Glory woman who currently insisted on making life a living hell.

No, Dawn was as her daughter, just like Buffy. And time would prove me right, Joyce told herself firmly as she picked up the typed inventory from her desk. Time will prove me right.



Upending the bottle of bourbon high into the air, Spike's mouth gaped open as a rush of pale liquid poured directly to his throat. Alcohol splattered all over his face, only to collect in small streams which trickled down the pronounced angles of his cheekbones.

Dawn stood in the shadows, the door shut tightly behind her as she watched the vampire slowly fall to the chair beneath him. He leaned his head back dully, his hand holding the bottle in a deathgrip. A brown eyebrow shot up as she realised the vampire was purring. Loudly.

"You sing it, chum," he mumbled nearly incoherently as he attempted to raise the bottle to the blaring radio.

She bit her lip hard to keep the rising giggle from escaping as she watched Spike open his own mouth to sing.

"You can't hurry love. No, you'll just have to bloody wait," his voice echoed in the crypt, his words slurred and tone offbeat. "Love don't come easy, it's a game of give and take. How long must I wait? How much bloody more must I take, Buffy?"

Dawn rolled her eyes to the heavens. He's a vampire and all, but still. He needs a life. Big time, she thought as she took a step further in.

"...before bleeding loneliness causes my h-h-heart to break!" he finished triumphantly, the bottle of alcohol raised high into the air as though he were a perverse Statue of Liberty.

Statue of Drunkenity, Dawn corrected herself with a snort.

"Oh, it's my little Nibblet," Spike gave her a huge grin as he turned to face the girl. The look almost made her heart leap out of her chest. "Ya still m'little Nibblet, aren't ya, Nibblet?" he asked as his head fell back seemingly of its own choice.

"Wow, Spike. Dead drunk. So why am I like *not* surprised," she shot off, her arms folded across her chest as she gave him her most defiant look.

"Prolly 'cause I'm dead," he muttered slowly, raising the bottle to his lips. "Getting drunk is a feat, though."

Dawn raised an eyebrow as she perched nonchalantly on the armrest of the maroon recliner. "You seem to accomplish it easily enough."

"Talent, my little Nibblet. Nooooo circ...curu...no bleedin' heartbeat, remember? Takes a lot of this beau'foo' stuff to affect..."

"Such a lovely thing to brag about," Dawn mocked him, barely hiding the blush as he gave her a winning smile.

"Bloody right. I knew I liked ya, Nibblet."

She coughed suddenly, wishing he meant it.

"Big Sister know you're here?" he asked suddenly, not sounding quite as drunk as he did moments before.

"Big Sister," Dawn snapped the words off with as much venom as she could, "is too busy wih her own dumb life to care."

"Well, that's a no," he chuckled. "She's not gonna like you hanging out with the Big Bad."

Dawn shrugged her shoulders. "Only if she finds out."

Spike grinned ferally as he pushed himself up in the chair to look straight into the teenager's eyes. "Why, aren't you the Bitty Bad."

She couldn't help but return the grin. Those smiles of his were infectious. "Bigger than you."

"Ambitious lil bit, aren't you?"

"Is there any way else to be?"

"Nothing as interesting, Nibblet," Spike admitted as he took another swig of the alcohol. "So, Bitty Bad, you gonna keep me company?"

She tossed her head haughtily as she appraised the vampire with a narrowed eye. "Oh, I have nothing better to do than watch some kitteny dead guy get drunk off his ass," she huffed sarcastically, carefully watching his reaction to her words.

Spike coughed into his hand as he shot an amused look towards the girl. "I didn't realise you made a habit of watching us kitteny dead guys..." he coughed again as he met her eyes, "...get drunk off of our bums."

Dawn flicked her hair over her shoulder cockily as she took a step closer to the vampire. Her hand hardly trembled at all as she reached for the bottle of bourbon.

"You sure, Nibblet?" he asked, a brown eyebrow cocked high as he regarded her.

"Just. Give. Me. The. Bloody. Thing." she demanded, her lower lip thrust out into a pout as she watched him think about it. He wouldn't hesitate if it were Buffy asking, she grumbled to herself.

He laughed suddenly, thrusting the bottle into her hands. "If Joyce asks, you did *not* get it from me."

Dawn flashed him her most flirtatious smile as she crossed mental fingers. "Now, why would Mom ask me when I'm going to be staying here with you?"

"Yeah. 'Zactly" he agreed amiably as he settled back in his chair. A moment passed before he shot straight up, his eyes focused on her. "Waitaminute. Run that by me again?"



Samson frowned as he lowered his ear to the lower portion of the door. Not a single coherent word dare breech the prison of stone, although he could hear mumblings just beyond. He closed his eyes as he concentrated on seperating the flowing noises into distinct words.

Grunting, he tugged at the hem of his duster. It just wouldn't come to him. He couldn't understand what he was doing wrong. With a fatalistic sigh, Samson leaned heavily against the crypt door as he gave up.

"No! Absolutely NOT!" the demon beyond the door shouted suddenly.

Samson started as the words echoed clearly in his ears. With a grin, he turned his ear back to the door only to find that he had pushed it open an inch when he had leaned his head against the cool mass. He squinted as he peered into the darkened room. The demon stood over the girl, his face twisted and disfigured by his inherent evil.

The girl looked positively unconcerned by the demon's outburst, almost as if it were an everyday thing. Samson frowned as he watched the scene, his heart pounding as the little girl rolled her eyes to the heavens.

"It'd be fun," she smiled, a distinctly mischievous look coming into her eyes. "What? Is wittle little Big Bad scared?"

"Am not!" the vampire answered quickly, his face suddenly returning to human form.

"Are too."

"I am not!"

"I don't know. You could have fooled me, Spike," she shot out cockily, not looking threatened one bit as the vampire stood above her. A small grin pulled at her lips as she muttered "Wuss."

"Oh, please! I can't believe I'm being badgered by the Slayer's little bite of a sister! What did I ever do to deserve this?" the blond demon complained, throwing himself into the recliner as he grabbed for a bottle of alcohol. Samson wrinkled his brow in thought. He had never see a vampire act quite like this before.

"You're evil. What *didn't* you do to deserve it?" the girl asked nonchalantly, the brown straggles of hair framing her pretty face as she looked at the vampire triumphantly.

"Doesn't mean you gotta make a bloke's life a living hell, ducks," the vampire muttered as he wiped his lips free of alcohol with the back of his hand. He grunted as he banged his head against the stone repeatedly. "Your sister is going to kill me."

"She was planning to anyway," the girl smiled sweetly. "Especially after that little Drusilla thing. Little hint, Spike... you usually get further with a girl when you don't threaten to let the ex eat her."

Spike sighed fatalistically as he mumbled against the coffin lid. "Now you tell me," he growled sarcastically.

The girl laughed, evidentally enjoying the demon's discomfort. Samson pursed his lips as he considered the confusing scene before him. He wasn't sure who was more evil: the human girl or the vampire. Tough call.

"What were you thinking, by the way? I mean, of all the dumb things I've ever heard..."

"Yeah, yeah. Rub it in, Nibblet."

She smirked haughtily. "I was planning to."

The vampire leaned against his fists, frowning ferociously. "I don't know what I was thinking, really. Just that I was so tired of it. I just wanted the games to stop. That's all."

"Brilliant move, Einstein."

"I'm only human, born to make mistakes," the vampire sung suddenly, his voice low and depressed.

"Oh, no. You aren't going to sing again, are you?" the girl asked as she hopped up on a small coffin.

The vampire looked clearly disgruntled. "What's wrong with that?"

"Puh-leeese. You can't sing, Spike. Give it up!"

Spike snorted as he glared at the girl. "I can too."

"Can not!"

"Can too!"

Samson sighed wearily as he rested his head against the door. Something told him this was going to be a very, very long night.