Spike was dreaming of blood, of freedom, of carnage. He was the Scourge of Europe again, and humans trembled before him. The mob surrounded him, pressing on him, and every nerve ending was alive with exultation as he punched, kicked, scratched, and--when he was lucky--bit his way through the crowd. He ducked into an alley, leaned against the wall, laughing as he tried to figure out his next move. He heard a swish of long skirts, glanced over to see a girl hurrying by, shielding her face from the bright light of the intermittent explosions. He grinned, grabbed her without thinking, sank his fangs deep into her neck. The blood flowed into him, filling his veins with warm, borrowed life, like electricity shooting all over his body…

"Spike." He looked up, growling, and saw Dawn standing in the alley in front of him, shock and betrayal in every line of her innocent face. She was staring at the still body of the girl in his arms. He looked down and suddenly recognized the slack face--Dawn's friend, from the night they had snuck out for a date with two teenage vamps. Blood trickled sluggishly from the holes in her neck. She was already dead. He looked desperately back at Dawn, saw the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Dawn, I didn't know, I couldn't--" he babbled desperately.

"Spike." She was just staring at him, eyes glassy. He wanted to run, to die, anything to make the pain stop. But he couldn't move. And he couldn't fix it for her.

"Spike." He felt a hand on his arm, and shot bolt upright in bed, stomach churning. Next to him, Dawn jumped back a little, eyes wide and hands held defensively in front of her. He tried to shake off the dream, get it together enough to calm her.

"Dawn," he managed.

"You-you're a heavy sleeper," she said, a little nervously. Even so, she hadn't moved more than a foot or so away from him. She trusts me, he thought, feeling sick again.

"Uh, Spike?" She looked uncomfortable, gestured vaguely at her face. "You're… kinda…" He realized he was in game face, a holdover from the dream.

"Sorry," he told her a little hoarsely, feeling his teeth retract.

"No big," she answered quickly. "Just wondered if you knew." She looked at him more closely. "Are you OK?" she asked, concern overriding fear.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Uh, yeah… just…" He noticed the rucksack dangling from her arm. "School out already?"

She looked away. "Uh… well… not in the sense that classes are, in the strictest definition, over, but…" she hedged.

He raised an eyebrow at her, glad to be back on somewhat familiar ground. "Then you're here and not there because…?"

"I wanted to see you. And I didn't think Buffy'd exactly be doing the Dance of Parental Consent about that one, so… I didn't have much choice. I think she'll sleep as long as she thinks I'm at school." She saw the look on his face, and rushed on, "I'm getting really good grades now, and I came at lunchtime so I'll only miss one class. If you give me a break now, you can save that valuable lecture for another time." She looked at him hopefully.

He relented. "All right. What's on your mind, Niblet?"

She shrugged, letting the rucksack slide to the ground. "Just wanted to see how you were doing."

Since he really didn't know how to answer that--well, I seem to have reawakened my inner demon, and I'm not sure if I should go with that or not, and it turns out that even after three months away, I'm still love's bitch, but thanks for asking and how are you?--he went with the stock response. "Been better, been worse. You? Been tearing up the town while I've been away?"

She giggled a little and rolled her eyes, sitting tentatively on the edge of the bed. "As if. Buffy's still in complete Overprotective Mode. No more Doublemeat Palace means more time to breathe down Dawn's neck. She's always, like, `Have you done your homework? How are your grades? You didn't talk to any boys, did you? Clean your room. Eat three more bites of vegetables before dessert.' It's like she's channeling Mom or something." Spike was pleased to see that there was only a slight shadow of grief on her face when she mentioned Joyce. "Anyway," Dawn continued, "I guess it's better that she ditched the fast food lifestyle. We're getting along much better now." She smiled at him. "So I guess I should thank you for that." Then the smile faded. "I would've thanked you before, but…"

He wasn't quite sure how to respond. After a short silence, Dawn asked, "Why'd you leave, anyway?" She tried to make it sound casual, but her fingers were unconsciously twisting the sheets into tiny knots.

Again, a bigger question than he really wanted to deal with right now. Still, he'd always prided himself on giving Dawn straight answers when he could. "I just had to get away, I s'pose. Clear my head." He smiled, a little wryly. "Literally."

There was that little crease between her eyebrows again. "Because of Buffy?"

That he hadn't been expecting. "Well… ah…" he stammered. "What do you know about me and Buffy?" he demanded finally, stalling for time.

"Please," she scoffed. "Like I'm blind or something. I live with her, remember? I see the way you guys look at each other. I watch TV, I know what sexual tension looks like."

He almost choked, and Dawn giggled again, obviously vastly amused at his shock. After a moment or two of wordless spluttering, he decided it would be safest to just admit it, and move on to a different topic. As quickly as possible. Not my job to teach her about the birds and the sodding bees, anyway. He cleared his throat. "All right. So there is… or there was… something between me and Buffy."

"And you guys had a fight?"

When are we not fighting? "Yeah, something like that. How'd you know?"

She shrugged. "When she came back after she went to tell you about the Council's letter, she was all mad, and she went into the training room and didn't come out for like three hours. They had to buy a new punching bag afterwards." She was quiet for a moment, as if she was debating something, then she went on, quietly. "When you didn't come by after a few days, she went to look for you. When she came back, I could tell she'd been crying. But I don't think she even knew it." She looked at him. "It was bad, for awhile there. She sort of shut down again. Kinda like when Angel and Riley left, only worse, 'cause she didn't want anyone to know what was bothering her. We… we missed you."

Great. He was now in the same elite group as the Souled One and Captain Cardboard. Just bloody wonderful. "Didn't mean to hurt you, pet," he muttered, feeling awkward.

"I know." She paused, then, "Do you feel different?"

"You mean without the chip?" She nodded. Never one for the easy questions, he remembered.. "Yeah."

She frowned. "You don't really seem different. Buffy says you are, though."

"Vampire/Slayer thing, I think."

"But… you wouldn't…" She watched him, a hint of wariness in her eyes. She couldn't finish the question. He remembered his dream, remembered the look on her face, remembered the way she'd defended him the day before. The answer was easy.

"Dawn. I'd sacrifice the world to save you." Or her, he added silently, but he wasn't ready to think about that yet.

She grinned hugely, and it made him think of how sunlight had felt, when he was human. "I knew it." She threw her arms around his neck, hugged tight. Something tore loose inside his chest. He wondered if this was what Buffy had been like, before the baggage, before the losses, before her Sacred Duty. No one had ever loved him like this--without pain, without demands.

It terrified him.

She trusted him. Even last night, she had trusted him, even when he'd been thinking about snacking on people she loved. Much as he hated to compare himself in any way to the Great Poof, he knew that he held her fragile world-view in his hands as surely as Angel had held Buffy's. Taking care of Dru had been one thing; this was entirely different. It was difficult enough just trying to keep her alive--now he was supposed to set an example for her, too? For a bloke who'd spent over a century trying to avoid responsibility whenever possible, it was a lot to swallow.

"I'm glad you're back," she whispered in his ear, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil.

He patted her back, trying to quell the panic. "Thanks," he mumbled.

Dawn sat back, folded her hands in a businesslike manner. "So. Buffy won't believe you're not going to murder us all in our beds."

The bluntness of it startled a laugh out of him. "S'pose that's about the size of it, yeah," he replied, grateful for the change of subject.

"Makes sense, I guess. She does have sort of a history with that kind of thing. You want my advice?"

Again, he had to laugh. "Dawn, I've been around for a hundred bloody years. Don't think I'll be taking romantic advice from a fifteen-year-old who can't tell the difference between a teenage boy and a vampire."

"OK, first of all, I didn't say it was romantic advice. Second of all, I am the Key, even if I don't open anything anymore, so I'm, like, way older than you. Third of all, you were with the same woman for all that time, so I don't think you have much more experience than I do."

"Hey!" There was only so much a man's ego could take.

"Well, it's true. Besides, I know my sister." She raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to disagree.

He sighed, rested his head back against the headboard, scrubbing a hand over his face. This had to be a new low. "All right, Doctor Dawn," he growled. "What's your expert advice?"

She paused, for dramatic effect. Then, solemnly, "Be patient. And don't kill anyone."

"That's your advice?" he exploded. "That's the wisdom of thousands of years?" She was laughing. He waved a hand at her. "Aren't you supposed to be off learning how to be a conformist little yes-woman?"

She reached for the rucksack, still laughing. "Yeah, I better go."

"Right, then. Bugger off and let me get some sleep."

She grinned at him. "I missed you."

He managed to grin back, despite the sudden uneasiness in his stomach. "Missed you, too, platelet. Now go on."

"I'll be back when I can," she told him.

He nodded, and watched her go, telling himself over and over that it had only been a dream.

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

It couldn't have been more than a couple of hours later when he was awakened again, this time by a voice calling down from the upper level.

"Spike?" It was Red, and she sounded nervous. Now this was an unexpected turn of events. I mention a welcome-home party, I get a bleeding parade. "Spike, are you here?"

"Didn't anyone ever tell you lot that vampires sleep during the day?" he grumbled, but it was more for show than anything else. "Come right in, make yourself at home," he hollered, with an edge of sarcasm.

"Uh…" He could hear her footsteps as she moved across the floor and back. "I think I'll stay up here, thanks."

Was she afraid of him? "Well, wouldn't want you to trouble yourself," he called up to her, but he was grinning. He rolled out of bed and made his way to the ladder. As his head cleared the floor, he could see her standing in the open doorway, surrounded by protective sunlight. He planted both feet on the floor, careful to stay out of range of the sun, and crossed his arms, smirking.

"Don't want to come into the vampire's lair, eh pet?"

"Not so much," she replied, watching him carefully. "I'm not big with the self-defense techniques these days."

His smirk widened. "'Bout time I got some respect around here. Well, what can I do for you, Sabrina?"

She jerked her head towards the chair that was set up in front of the telly. There was a small paper bag resting on the arm. "I… I stopped at the butcher's shop. Thought you might be hungry, so I brought you some blood, so you wouldn't, you know…"

"Be tempted to suck it out of anyone?"

"I wouldn't have put it that way, exactly, but… yeah." He could feel her eyes on him as he crossed to the bag, reached in and drew out the container. He pulled back the lid, took a sip.

"Thanks, Red. So, did you just drop by to deliver the O-Neg?"

"No." She took a deep breath. "I talked to Buffy a little bit this morning, after she got back."

"Ah. And did she tell you how I'd returned to my wicked ways? Once an evil, soulless thing, always an evil, soulless thing?"

"No. But she did mention that you were thinking about… hurting us last night."

He rolled his eyes. "She would."

"She also told me why you decided not to." She was looking at him intently.

He set down the blood, met her eyes squarely. "Yeah. So?"

"So… I think I might understand what you're dealing with."

He snorted. "You think a little dabbling in the black arts compares to being a vampire? Don't flatter yourself, Red."

He was a little surprised when she didn't back down, even a little bit. Girl'd picked up some spine since he'd last seen her. "I think you've got a real chance here, Spike. You get to make a choice no vampire has ever been able to make before. But if you're not interested in hearing me out, then…" She turned, started back out into the light.

Oh, fucking hell. "Wait." She turned, raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Already got some sage advice today. Might as well hear yours."

She smiled a little, pleased with herself. "OK. I'm not saying that getting addicted to magic is the same as becoming a vampire. But I did some thinking about it today, and it seems like we've actually got some stuff in common here." She ignored his eye-roll, barreling on. "I was a total geek in high school. I mean, you saw me then. I was nothing. Even when I met Buffy, and I finally felt like I was part of something important, I still couldn't do much--mostly, Xander and I just got into trouble that Buffy had to get us out of. I hated it. And when I started getting into the Wicca stuff, it was like I'd finally discovered a way I could… be somebody." She wasn't really looking at him anymore; it seemed like she'd almost forgotten he was there. He had to admit, the whole story sounded uncomfortably familiar. Though he'd rather have gone sunbathing than tell her that. She was still talking, oblivious. "Then I met Tara, and she thought I was all Miss Big Power Girl, and I was the only one who could get to Glory, and then I brought Buffy back… It was like a big spiral, and before I knew it I felt like I could do anything. God, I even threatened Giles. I just… totally lost perspective." Her eyes snapped back into focus, fixed on him. "I wasn't really addicted to the magic. Magic is neutral--I'm sure you know that. I was addicted to the power."

For once, he couldn't come up with a clever rejoinder. "And you think that's my problem?"

She shrugged. "I don't know you as well as Buffy does." She thinks Buffy knows me? he wondered silently, feeling a strange twist in his gut. "But I think you like being a vampire because it made you something. It gave you power. The chip took it away again, for a while. And now that it's gone, you're tempted again. You want to go back to being the Big Bad. You want to be strong." Her eyes seemed to be boring into him. "You want to be the big tough guy, Spike? Fight it. You did it for three years--if it was something that just took over and controlled you, you would've just kept on feeding, no matter how much it hurt, until the chip killed you. You've got a choice. In fact, you're lucky compared to me. I had to give up magic altogether, to go back to just being plain old Willow Rosenberg. You get to keep the power. You just have to learn to… make it go somewhere else."

He cocked his head at her. She'd gotten to him, in spite of himself. "Why are you doing this?"

"'Cause you helped us all summer, even though Buffy was gone. I don't like the thought of staking someone who's saved my patootie more than once." He smiled before he could stop himself. She smiled back. "And because of Dawn, and because I think you and Buffy could be a good team, if you could stop pushing each other's buttons for ten seconds and actually work together." Then she wrinkled her nose a little, grinning, and for a second she was the adorable, cheerful innocent again, the one who'd told him they could "try again later" after he'd discovered he couldn't bite her. "Besides, I kinda like you."

He couldn't help laughing a little. Only in Sunnydale… "Still don't trust me, though." He gestured at the distance between them. She blushed a little, smiled.

"Gotta be a little more careful these days. Besides, I thought you took it as a compliment."

He nodded, still grinning as he looked at the floor. There was an awkward silence. "Well," he said finally, "you've done your good deed for the day. Better trundle on home before the Slayer finds out you're consorting with the enemy."

She wouldn't be put off that easily. "You'll think about what I said?"

He couldn't meet her eyes. "Yeah, I'll think on it."

"OK. I can bring you more blood, if you need it."

"Keep me from the path of temptation?"

She lifted a shoulder. "Can't hurt." She turned to go.

"Will."

"Yeah?" She turned around again, squinting in the sunlight.

"Thanks for stopping by." Then, "You're a tough bird. Wicca tricks or no."

She grinned. "Thanks," she replied, and closed the door behind her.

TBC