Hey guys - I'm so sorry for all the delay but it's been a long while since I've seen Spike in anything and I haven't had much inspiration. But I'm all back in my Spike phase again, so here goes. To my lovely reviewers: Thank you so much! I will continue this story as long as you keep reviewing (do I smell a bribe?) . As for a spike/dawn shipper, I'm working on their relationship right now, and what it will evolve to, I'm not quite sure yet. My mind works in mysterious ways, but if you REALLY want a shipper, I can absolutely make it happen in due time, I love spike/dawn as well. Review!

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my over-active imagination. *grins*

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Spike lay awake for the rest of the night. The long hours until daybreak went by in a world wind of confusion and thought. He was very troubled over the girl tucked into his chest. She was not the same Dawn that he once knew. She wasn't the untouchable, innocent yet strong child he had formed a friendship with so long ago. But, he thought, she was still strong, wasn't she? She was still alive, living by herself, and on the bloody mouth of hell of all places. All her near and dear had died, all except for him.

But then again, what he had done was even worse than dying, which was uncontrollable. He had willingly left her to her own defenses, with her mother and sister dead, and father out of the picture. Bloody ponce! What did he expect? To come back and find her prancing in a field of posy's blowing kisses at him? Her hair all agleam, eyes shining only for him. They had always shined for him. Only for him. Had he expected her to hide her rosy face with her hands and giggle at the fact that her life was torn to pieces and he had left with a significant chunk of it? What had he expected?

Not this. Never this. Torn by grief and pain, Spike didn't know exactly what he had been thinking when he abandoned her. He knew he had thought it right, but the reasoning he installed into his mind was unclear as he glazed down at her.

* * * * (One year ago, Spike's P.O.V.)

The pansy, Harris, he'll keep a brotherly protection over her. Captain Library is more a father figure than I ever could be for her, and Red and Tara will keep a watchful eye on her. I need to leave her with them; the closest to a normal life could get for her. She didn't need to spend the rest of her adolescence with a vampire, it just wasn't right. He wouldn't be selfish, and feed off her pain and weakness anymore. What would happen when the Nibblet stopped grieving and moved on with her life? She bloody hell wouldn't want him anymore; she would wake up and smell the bloodshed. Realization of what I truly am would hit her full on in that pretty little face of hers. Her childhood's naïve nature would evaporate and she would see me for what I really am. Evil, a dirty evil thing, a murderer.

William.

The Bloody.

Spike crawled out of the sleeping Dawn's window. He scaled the trellis, and leaped gracefully to the unkempt lawn. Giving one last glance up at her window, Spike ground his cigarette into the grass and stalked away into the night.

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(Present)

He knew he had thought it right, but the reasoning he installed into his mind was unclear as he glazed down at her.

No, she most certainly wasn't the same Dawn that he had left. She was not a little girl anymore. He studied the body pressed up against him, tiny hands clutching the thin blanket on his chest. Her face was somehow much older looking, not the same cherubic glimmer of childhood. He was for the first time made aware of how beautifully long her eyelashes were. Wet tears from earlier that evening clung lovingly to each lash, and glimmered in the small amount of sunlight that was starting to seep through the cracks in the crypt door. Her hair was darker, and had fallen across her chin, neck and shoulders. He pushed it back, and traced his fingers gently along her neck and resting on her collarbone.

Gleaming white skin met his fingertips, and he studied her neck with trained eyes. Not a scar visible. It struck him how untouched and innocent she still remained. A small part of her was still his Dawn. She was still the young weakling he had loved for so long. Only now, she wasn't so young, or so weak. He finally tore his eyes away from her throat and down to her body. The blanket clung tightly to her as she stretched out a little more over him. He observed her as if he had never seen her before. She had evidently grown into her long, slender legs. Her fresh curves were visible under the thin cotton of the quilt.

Bloody hell. How had he not noticed any of this before? His mind was racing a thousand miles per minute. He reeled with a mixture of shock and protectiveness. How hard had life been for her when she was going through the death of her loved ones, and all this at the same time? He vaguely remembered growing up back in England, and knew it wasn't an easy thing to try and figure out on one's lonesome. His body became rigid as another thought struck him. Dawn was coming of age, this most certainly meant boys. He scowled and unknowingly slipped into game face, fangs sliding over his bottom lip.

If anyone, living or not had so much as touched a hair on her head, he would go back to the sort of recreation that had given him his nickname. Spike. He grinned for a moment, thinking of the horrified look on some greasy, spotty adolescent boy as he ran, screaming bloody murder. Which is exactly what the outcome would be in the end. He almost chuckled, but stopped as he felt a pair of eyes on him.

He looked down into Dawn's big, blue eyes. She stared right back at his, without blinking or looking away. "So?" She said expectantly, a hint of resentment in her voice. His unbeating heart sank at the bitterness of the tone, but he didn't miss the hopeful and loving sound either.

"What?" He said, a little confused.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" She said, a world of emotions peaking through her small voice. Anger, love, fear, resentment, hope.

"Nibblet, what are you on about?" Spike looked down at her, honestly confused at her implying manner, as if he had started a sentence and not finished it.

"We've rested, and you really weren't just a voice, you haven't left me. . ." She paused. ". . . yet," She paused once more, then gave him a harder look. "Again." He cringed, and laced his fingers with hers. He was surprised when she didn't pull her hand away, but simply looked down at their interlaced fingers with a blank expression. She then looked back into his eyes.

"And it's like you said isn't it? We have a lot of catching up to do, you and I."

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