Chapter Three – Old Enough to Know Better…

Dawn stormed down the street in a fit of temper; she couldn't believe that Buffy had got Willow to fight her battles for her. What was the problem with her seeing Spike anyway? She knew that Spike was a vampire but with the chip in place and his feelings towards the Summers' family then surely it was obvious that Spike would never hurt her. She didn't understand why Buffy was so upset about it all, unless Buffy was jealous of the time she was spending with Spike. But was that because she was losing time with Spike or losing time with Dawn? She didn't care anymore, enough was enough, Buffy had treated her like a kid for too long. She was going to Spike's and she wasn't going home.

Dawn knocked once on the stone crypt doors before creaking them open and slipping inside, Spike was sitting in his chair watching television. He hadn't even lit the candles yet so the entire room was illuminated by the blue tinged glow of the TV screen. Dawn closed the doors behind her; Spike hadn't even looked up yet. Dawn wondered if he knew she was even in the room.

"Have you seen this episode? I've seen it a million times but I still don't understand it,"

"Jack's gay, Spike. That's why he won't get it on with Jen," smiled Dawn, Spike was a secret Dawson's Creek addict but only she knew it.

"Yeah but… Ah, forget it," he growled and pressed the red button on his remote. The room was plunged into black, Dawn's eyes adjusted quickly enough to see Spike fumbling around in his pockets for his lighter. "When did it get this dark?"

"About an hour ago, it got dark pretty early tonight. Good for ghosts and ghouls," laughed Dawn, Spike lit the first candle and the small orange glow on his ethereally pale skin made him look wicked for the first time in a long time. Dawn smiled to herself and grabbed a box of matches from the top of the fridge and began lighted the other candles.

"So, Nibblet, how did you get out of the house? Thought the Slayer would've had you locked in the tower after last night's performance," said Spike as he finished lighting the last candle and sat down in his chair again. Dawn jumped up and sat on the kitchen table facing him and sighed.

"I walked out," she said. "She got Willow to start on at me about coming here. It really pissed me off so I left, told her I was going for a walk,"

"Does she know you've come here?"

"Well, she's not stupid. God, I am so angry with her, I don't understand why it's such a big deal being here. It's not like you can hurt me anyway, like you would!" she said, her voice revealing just how annoyed she was. Spike had never heard her talk like that, that low rasp underneath her breath giving away just how livid she really was.

"No, but you are the littlest Summers, she just wants you kept safe,"

"Not you too. C'mon Spike, you're supposed to be the Big Bad. How about helping me with my teenage rebellion rather than taking her side?"

"Fair enough, pet. Whatever you want tonight, I am all yours. Except no breaking and entering, I think we caused enough trouble with that last time,"

"Okay," said Dawn looking around the room. "So, what is a teenage rebel supposed to do when she runs away from home for the night?"

Spike laughed quietly to himself, Dawn was no more a rebel than he was an upstanding member of the community. She had left in a fit of anger, nothing more. She hadn't planned on staying out all night and she certainly hadn't planned much further ahead than getting to Spike's but while she was here, he would humour her.

"Okay, we could go play 'knock door run',"

"Spike, I'm not ten years old! We need to do something really bad, what can we do?"

"Er… do you want a drink?" offered Spike, getting up and walking over to the fridge. Dawn jumped down from the table and stuck her hands in her pockets.

"What have you got?"

"Well, blood obviously, bit of vodka left, whisky, bourbon, I've got some lemonade. We could start you off slowly," he grinned mischievously.

"Okay, but not too much lemonade," sighed Dawn. Her hand was trembling slightly as she accepted a glass of whisky and lemonade from Spike, he had poured himself a large measure of neat bourbon and he gently touched his glass against hers before downing it all in one. "Should I do that?"

"Up to you," smiled Spike, watching her as she swirled the golden liquid around the glass and emptied it down her throat. She grimaced slightly before letting out a small cough and smiling.

"That wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be,"

"Good, another one for the lady then," laughed Spike and poured her another. Dawn downed it a lot faster this time and she relished the warm buzz it was sending down her throat and all through her blood stream; it was as if she could feel it working its way around her body. Spike grabbed the three bottles of alcohol and the nearly empty bottle of lemonade and sat them on the top of the tomb. He jumped up one side of them and Dawn the other, sitting opposite each other they began to slowly drink the lot.

"Y'know, if Buffy could see what you were doing to me now, she'd stake you on the spot," laughed Dawn, throwing the empty lemonade bottle across the room.

"She couldn't do anything about it anyway. How's it going down without lemonade, pet?" he asked, a twinge of concern in his voice.

"Good, I like it," she said. Spike was amazed at the fact that she hadn't thrown up yet. It was her first time drinking ever and she was holding it well, she was obviously a born drinker, a born bad girl. Spike laughed to himself. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, Nibblet. I was just thinking about how bad you are, I think you were born to be a bad girl and piss big sis off,"

"Thanks Spike, that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about me," she giggled, she felt drunk. Not falling over in a pool of vomit drunk but just the right side of tipsy, the light from the candles was easy on her eyes and gave the room a ghostly glow. Dawn didn't think she'd ever had this much fun, until her cell-phone started to ring. She picked it up immediately. "Hello... Hey, Buffy… no, I think I'm staying out tonight… no, I'll stay at Debbie's house… she lives across town… I'll get Spike to take me, stop worrying… I promise, yes… okay, see you tomorrow, bye,"

"Who's Debbie?" asked Spike as Dawn slipped the phone back into her jeans pocket.

"I don't know," laughed Dawn and Spike couldn't help but join her. "I think Buffy's letting me do whatever I want at the moment in case I never come back or something,"

"Sounds about right. Sounds like Willow advice but sounds about right," mumbled Spike. Dawn was fidgeting on top of the tomb, she couldn't get comfortable now. She picked up another glass of whisky and downed it before she jumped down to the floor; she landed on her feet but wobbled slightly as she fought to stay upright.

"That was close!" she laughed as she looked back up at Spike. "What now?"

"I don't know, what do you feel like?" asked Spike, drinking from the bottle and keeping an eye on Dawn. She collapsed into his TV chair and started to laugh quietly.

"I don't know, I feel a bit drunk. I think maybe I should just chill out for a bit, I'm a bit sleepy. Is that normal?"

"Yeah, it is. Especially for someone your age,"

"My age?" asked Dawn indignantly. "My age? That is it; I am not going to sleep. We have to do something else to keep me awake. I am not submitting to the stereotype of "my age" tonight," Spike smiled at her tenacity, she was obviously on a mission of proving something if not to Buffy then to herself.

"Okay, Little Bit. Let's put some music on, do you like punk?" asked Spike, Dawn shrugged as the opening beats of The Clash kicked in and livened up the dead man's party.