"Come to stake me again, Lil' Bit?"
Dawn held up her empty hands.
"Well?"
"Spike, did you by any chance leave your black leather coat behind?"
"Haven't seen it since I left. Searched the place, but no luck. Clem probably destroyed it and didn't want me to know. Like it bleeding matters."
"But wasn't it like a trophy from one of the Slayer's you killed?"
"I fancied it a bit. The girl had style."
"You were always wearing it. I thought it would be something you missed."
"I liked the thing. We've been through a lot."
"Hmm."
"What's with the sudden interest in my former articles of clothing? You seem more attached to it than I was."
"No," she forced a laugh. "I thought I saw one like it the other day and was wondering if it could be the same."
He shrugged.
"Well, okay then. Thanks. Bye"
"Dawn, is something the matter?"
"Matter? Nope, nothing the matter here," she smiled, backing toward the door.
"Something's wrong with your sister, isn't there?"
~*~
How could she deny it? She might as well come clean.
"Wrong? With Buffy? Hah-ha. What gives you that idea?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe the whole junior detective act and the whole 'must leave now because he's onto me' thing you're doing right now. You don't play poker much, do you?"
"With kittens?"
Spike rolled his eyes.
"It's probably nothing."
"Yeah, and I have no right. But you're here anyway. So what's up, Platelet?"
"Buffy doesn't sleep, at least that we know of. She's always on the go, even when she's not working or slaying. It's almost like she's afraid to be alone with herself. And Anya thinks there's something that Buffy's afraid to face. We're all at a loss.
Still seeking ol' Spike out as a last resort, some things never changed.
He had an idea or two what might be bothering the Slayer. And he'd tried time and time again to get her to face it. The sheer frustration of her stubbornness drove him to distraction. First Anya, then the bathroom. Both inexcuseable. Talk about a cock up. But the Anya incident had shown him that there were feelings there. Carefully locked away. He had hurt her with what he had done. Then he turned around and hurt her again, even worse. He didn't need a soul to have a conscience. That's what Buffy had given him and what he'd wanted to get rid of in the desert. The chip was just a convenient excuse. Be careful what you wish for indeed. It had taken every bit of restraint he had to not start writing poetry again. Then he was doomed.
"Spike, are you okay?" There were so many emotions playing across his face, but mainly anguish.
"I didn't need a bleeding soul, I already had one."
"Spike?"
He looked up toward the door. "Your sister's here."
"Here here?"
"Don't look so terrified, Lil' Bit. She's out prowling in the yard."
Dawn looked at him.
He ignored it. "If you know what's best, take the sewers back. I wouldn't think Big Sis would be too pleased to find you here."
"What about you?"
"I can hold my own as always."
"But she'll—"
"Remember—big evil vamp, staking good for me."
"Spike, maybe you should—"
"Go!"
Dawn held up her empty hands.
"Well?"
"Spike, did you by any chance leave your black leather coat behind?"
"Haven't seen it since I left. Searched the place, but no luck. Clem probably destroyed it and didn't want me to know. Like it bleeding matters."
"But wasn't it like a trophy from one of the Slayer's you killed?"
"I fancied it a bit. The girl had style."
"You were always wearing it. I thought it would be something you missed."
"I liked the thing. We've been through a lot."
"Hmm."
"What's with the sudden interest in my former articles of clothing? You seem more attached to it than I was."
"No," she forced a laugh. "I thought I saw one like it the other day and was wondering if it could be the same."
He shrugged.
"Well, okay then. Thanks. Bye"
"Dawn, is something the matter?"
"Matter? Nope, nothing the matter here," she smiled, backing toward the door.
"Something's wrong with your sister, isn't there?"
~*~
How could she deny it? She might as well come clean.
"Wrong? With Buffy? Hah-ha. What gives you that idea?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe the whole junior detective act and the whole 'must leave now because he's onto me' thing you're doing right now. You don't play poker much, do you?"
"With kittens?"
Spike rolled his eyes.
"It's probably nothing."
"Yeah, and I have no right. But you're here anyway. So what's up, Platelet?"
"Buffy doesn't sleep, at least that we know of. She's always on the go, even when she's not working or slaying. It's almost like she's afraid to be alone with herself. And Anya thinks there's something that Buffy's afraid to face. We're all at a loss.
Still seeking ol' Spike out as a last resort, some things never changed.
He had an idea or two what might be bothering the Slayer. And he'd tried time and time again to get her to face it. The sheer frustration of her stubbornness drove him to distraction. First Anya, then the bathroom. Both inexcuseable. Talk about a cock up. But the Anya incident had shown him that there were feelings there. Carefully locked away. He had hurt her with what he had done. Then he turned around and hurt her again, even worse. He didn't need a soul to have a conscience. That's what Buffy had given him and what he'd wanted to get rid of in the desert. The chip was just a convenient excuse. Be careful what you wish for indeed. It had taken every bit of restraint he had to not start writing poetry again. Then he was doomed.
"Spike, are you okay?" There were so many emotions playing across his face, but mainly anguish.
"I didn't need a bleeding soul, I already had one."
"Spike?"
He looked up toward the door. "Your sister's here."
"Here here?"
"Don't look so terrified, Lil' Bit. She's out prowling in the yard."
Dawn looked at him.
He ignored it. "If you know what's best, take the sewers back. I wouldn't think Big Sis would be too pleased to find you here."
"What about you?"
"I can hold my own as always."
"But she'll—"
"Remember—big evil vamp, staking good for me."
"Spike, maybe you should—"
"Go!"
