*

"Oh," Xander breathed.  "Oh, no." 

He lurched out the door, his hands outstretched.  He was already dressed for work; his yellow Timberland boots, a pair of worn jeans, a lumberjack shirt that had seen better days.  His hands, too, showed the wear and tear of manual labor.  Calloused, worn, scaled, with dirt clinging stubbornly onto nails cut to the quick.  And those hands, thick and grasping, are what caused Spike to dance backwards, Dawn still his arms.  How could Xander, so used to clutching steel and wood, know how fragile Dawn had become?

"No, Harris, wait…" Spike said quickly, still watching the other man warily.  And that was when recognition dawned on Xander's face, when the accented words of a dark-haired man suddenly caused his blood to run cold.

Xander's face leached of all color as he took in Spike, standing outside his house, with Dawn in his arms.  Dawn looked wan, with dark circles under her eyes, and she had apprehension on her face.  No wonder, thought Xander as his rage built.  Something was wrong with her arm, with her leg, and Spike was trying to hold her back, make a bargain.  He flushed in fury, but came to a standstill a few feet from the pair, eyes smoldering.

"Give her to me."  His voice was lower than Spike remembered, and the sheer control the boy was exerting was impressive.  It was obvious Harris longed to rip Dawn from his grasp, out of harm's way, and then tear Spike to pieces.  But that was exactly what Spike feared – someone would grab Dawn roughly, trying to save her, and kill her instead.

"Harris, she's fine," he said.  Calmly, he nudged Dawn in a subtle appeal for help.

"Yeah!  It's okay, Xander, he didn't hurt me," Dawn stammered.  She'd thought Xander would be at work by now, that Buffy would be the one to deal with.  But there was no sign of her sister, and Xander's sheer hatred of Spike would make any conversation difficult.  "Xander, I'm fine, really!"

"Put.  Her.  Down."  His tone hadn't changed.  His eyes flickered briefly to Dawn, but for the most part he focused on Spike.  Dawn had always had a soft spot for the piece of filth.  Xander stared at him with deadly intent.  Dawn's words had no effect on him.  She was biased, under Spike's influence, after all.

Watching the man ignore Dawn, seeing how he allowed baser emotions to prevail, Spike snapped.  "Focus, Harris!  I can't put her down, she can't bloody STAND, her ankle's shot!"  He spun Dawn around so that Xander would have to look at her wrapped leg. 

Xander allowed himself a glance, and his face softened briefly.  Not for long.

"Fine, I'll carry her," he stated flatly.  But as he reached out his arms again, demanding, and stepped towards them, Spike stepped back again.  Xander snarled, flashing Spike a look.  "What?  What the hell do you want, something in exchange?"

"Xander!"  Dawn shouted, pulling herself into a more upright position, clumsily maneuvering her arm.  "Stop it!  NOW!"

And he did, if only for the fact that she sounded so like Buffy for a moment.  He dropped his arms to his sides, breathing heavily.  Waiting.

"Look, he's only HERE because he didn't want to make me crawl to the front door, okay?"  Dawn was shivering with rage, small movements that reverberated up Spike's arms.  She knew that most of her anger was unwarranted, but she unleashed it on Xander gladly.  She was nervous, she was tired, and she'd just had some pretty intense conversations with Spike.  And the way Xander was acting towards her, after she'd been gone so long… Standing there, threatening Spike, like she didn't even exist?  Treating her like just another victim to be rescued?  Her emotions boiled over, and she made no effort to rein them in. 

Years of being treated as a child, built-up slights and being ignored, all of it came rushing out of her in a torrent.  She'd make him listen to her, this time.

"Jesus, Xander!  How fucking horrible can you be?  I got hurt, and he picked me up from the hospital, drove me CROSS-COUNTRY to bring me home, bought me food and a quilt and didn't sleep JUST so we could be here before the hospital called Buffy!  And he didn't WANT to come back, Xander!  He wanted to stay far, far away!"  She was sobbing now, ripping gasps that she had to force her words through.

"And now, I don't know why the hell we came home at all!  Because I HATE being talked over!  I HATE being 'taken care of' without someone asking my opinion!  And I HATE that YOU answered the door!"  She was losing control again, and her exhaustion suddenly caused the whole experience of her accident come rushing back.  Any defenses she'd built up crumbled away as she remembered the trouble she'd gone through to get to Sunnydale, and she felt her mind give way. 

"I want my SISTER!"

She began to shake even harder, so hard that Spike began to worry about her injuries. Ignoring Xander, he crouched on the front lawn, trying to give Dawn more support with his body.  He settled her in his lap, slipping one arm from under her legs and pulling her closer.

She turned to him, both arms clinging to him tight.  Completely lost, she burrowed her face into his neck, keening loudly, repeating the one phrase over and over again.  Spike tried to soothe her, gently brushing her hair back, rocking her, murmuring quietly, but she was beyond his reach. 

Panic began to build in him; he hadn't realized how hard the drive had been on Dawn, and the last thing he wanted Buffy to see was this image.  But he knew what his girl needed, and he wasted no time in demanding it for her.

"Get Buffy."

Xander glowered, but obeyed; Dawn's visible breakdown rattled him.  Without taking his eyes off of Dawn, he shouted back through the open door.  "Buff!  Get out here, and bring a stake."  He lowered his voice, his face blank.

"Spike, if you're trying to get back into her life…"  The threat was thinly veiled.  Unfortunately, Dawn was coherent enough to hear him, and she pulled away just long enough to hiss at him. Xander was taken aback for a moment.  Then he sneered.

"That your influence, Spike?"

Again, Spike decided to ignore him.  He was too busy with Dawn to bother with posturing.  "Did you hear, Dawn?  Buffy's coming, love.  She'll be here soon."  Dawn hiccupped against his shoulder, her hot, halting sobs warming his neck.  "Oh, love – it'll be all right, I'm here, she's coming.  Don't pay any mind to him, nibblet." 

Xander flushed and looked ready to insult Spike again, but a sleepy voice distracted him. 

"What?  Xander, I've got to get up in an hour, and I'm really…"  Spike looked up, and there she was.

She'd changed her hair, he thought.  Not that he found it surprising; he'd actually be more shocked if her hair had been the same.  A light chocolate brown, falling to her shoulders in waves.  The face was the same, the eyes, the mouth – he cut himself off before he could think further along that track.  What mattered now was that she was darting towards him, her bathrobe flapping around her, the tank-top-and-flannel pajamas mirroring her sister perfectly. 

"Oh, god, no!"  Buffy choked, crashing to her knees beside Dawn with little grace.  Her face was slack with shock, and Spike felt ill.  Oh no, this was not the picture he wanted to give her.

Dawn jolted upright at the sound of her sister's voice, her head connecting with Spike's jaw hard enough to make him see stars.  Buffy reached out instantly, and Dawn began to clamber over to her, awkwardly trying to work around her cast and splint.

"Love, careful!  Careful!"  Spike frantically tried to ease Dawn over to Buffy without twisting any of her limbs, but Dawn was making it difficult.  She had wrapped her arms around Buffy's neck and was mindlessly clinging to her, twisted oddly between Spike and her sister.  He deftly straightened her limbs, reoriented her body until she was properly curled up, a child in Buffy's embrace.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm just crying because I'm upset!" Dawn assured her sister hysterically, tears pouring down her face.  "I'm sorry I'm crying, I can't help it!  I'm not hurt, not really, and there isn't any trouble, you don't need a stake…" She was ranting, babbling now, and Buffy hushed her gently, pulling her closer and kissing her brow.  Dawn shuddered into her sister's arms, allowing herself to be calmed, rocked, soothed. 

Spike backed up a little, wary of intruding on the reunion any more than necessary. 

"You don't call her love," Xander grated behind him.  It took Spike a moment to realize what he was talking about.

"Piss off, I was talking to Dawn," Spike spat back.  But he could feel the man hovering behind him, watching.  Irritating.

Buffy either missed the vibe between Xander and the vampire, or she just ignored it. All of her attention was focused on the girl in her arms, crooning softly to her.

"Dawnie, it's fine, it's okay.  Oh, honey."  She tilted Dawn's chin, looking at her tear-streaked face.  "Where does it hurt?  And how?"

"M-my arm, and my ankle," she choked out. "But it wasn't Spike!  It was an accident!  He helped me, please don't hurt him!"  One of her arms flew out in an wildly protective gesture, as though she were trying to sweep Spike behind her.  The tips of her fingers brushed his jacket lapel and she clung, tightly.

Spike glanced up at Buffy, painfully aware of the awkwardness of the situation.  Buffy just shrugged helplessly.  Dawn was clearly marking her attachment to Spike, and in that one gesture, had grouped them into a unit.  With Dawn so unstable, Buffy wasn't willing to do anything to upset her. 

It was a strange picture.  Dawn had grown lankier in her year away, and was now taller than her sister; she draped over Buffy awkwardly, though the smaller woman supported her well.  With one hand clutching Spike, she had unconsciously formed a bridge between them.  Buffy and Spike avoided each others' eyes, devoted to the girl on the grass between them.  A tenuous link, but a link nonetheless. 

Xander noted all of this bitterly from his position a few feet away.  Something inside him realized that he could have been a part of that group, possibly could have even taken Spike's place in it.  But he'd missed the chance, if it had ever existed.  All that was left to him now was to stand on the outskirts, watching grimly, waiting for the sun to rise.

"She's delicate right now," breathed Spike, gently brushing Dawn's tear-drenched hair behind her ear.  He was very careful not to touch Buffy at all.  "I'm sure she'll tell you everything, but she was in an accident.  She's rebroken the arm Willow broke," he said, and Buffy's eyes hardened momentarily.  "But the ankle's only sprained, isn't it, petal?"

Dawn nodded tiredly, her head lolling on Buffy's shoulder.  "Yeah, the splint's all Spike; there's an aircast under there somewhere."  She looked at Spike plaintively.  "Cant' we talk about this later?  I mean, there isn't anything really important, is there?  I'm so tired…"  She was too wrung out to cry again; she just implored him with reddened eyes.

Spike relented.  "'Course, bit."  He smiled gently at her, and delicately unhooked her fingers from his lapel.  He glanced at Buffy. 

"You all right to carry her upstairs?" he asked.

Buffy snorted.  "Yeah – I know she'd bigger than me, but she's got nothing on some of the nastier demons I've come across.  She's light as a feather in comparison, it'll just look weird."  She began to gather Dawn together, until Spike held out a hand in warning.

"Careful," he stressed as Buffy looked at him warily.  "Ask the hospital when they call, but she's got some sort of brittle-bone condition.  She's got to be really careful with her movements; she might have hurt her ankle more on the way here, can't quite tell."  Spike grimaced.  "That's why we made the trip in the first place – weren't sure how the Key qualities would mix with a hospital investigation.  Figured you could have her checked out here.  You know, where you'd be close by, just in case things got a little hairy."

Buffy stared at him for a moment, expressionless, then nodded.  Carefully but effortlessly, she lifted Dawn up and headed back to the house.  After a moment Spike rose from the grass, brushed the dew from his jeans, and followed.

Xander had returned to the door, and he held it wide open so Buffy could get through without difficulty.  "I'm just going to tuck her in, she's wiped," Buffy muttered to him as they passed.  He nodded silently.  Dawn was already nodding off, he noticed.  Poor kid, completely knocked for a loop.

Outside, Spike stopped at the bottom of the stoop, watched Buffy carry Dawn up the stairs.  Buffy was right – it looked odd, but she carried Dawn's weight without a sign of discomfort or awkwardness. He smiled inwardly.  Apparently, the woman didn't have limits.  Either that or she just refused to recognize them, and they surrendered in the face of her stubbornness.

Xander waited until the last stair creaked before turning to Spike.  The vampire had a distant look on his face;  Xander reveled in the thought of his alienation.

"What," Xander crowed.  "You thought that she'd invite you in?  That you would all play house for a while; the slayer, the vampire and their mystical ward?  Dream on."  He leaned against the doorjamb casually.  An affectation.  Spike steeled himself, lips pressed together thinly.

"I'm not here for that," he muttered.  He didn't want to look at Harris, but the man was making an effort to be intrusive.  "I'm here for them."

Xander's eyes lit up.  "THEM?" he vented.  "So you admit to coming back for Buffy?  Oh, man.  You sick bastard."  His sneer, his eyes, were all caught up in a superior smirk; he enjoyed this chance to kick a downed man.  His voice became silky-smooth, and he leaned forward a little, enunciating clearly.

"After what you did to her, she'll never forgive you.  Don't you get that?"  His stare flashed cruelly.  "You may have sucked Dawn back in, Spike, but Buffy's not dumb.  She won't forget.  Ever."

Both men heard a door shutting upstairs, but Xander wasn't finished.  He lowered his voice; it lost none of its venom. 

"Maybe you helped Dawn; that means nothing.  She'll never love you, or trust you, and even better?"  He smiled harshly.  "She'll make sure Dawn doesn't see you again.  So you can consider that last scene your curtain call.  Hope you enjoyed it."  Footsteps coming down the stair silenced him again, but Xander smirked triumphantly.  He'd said all he needed to.

Buffy reappeared in the doorway, looking apprehensively at the two men. She was too confused to deal with the nasty vibes they were giving off right now.  "I've tucked her into my bed, I think she's okay, just emotional and exhausted."  She rubbed her hand over her eyes.  "I'm going to call the hospital now, get the full report.  Or the financial damage, whatever."  She sighed deeply.  It was not something she looked forward to.  "But at least Dawn's here, and safe."

Xander smiled at her broadly, slinging an arm around her shoulders.  Buffy let him, though she sensed more in it than a show of friendship.  She turned her glance to the bottom of the stoop, where Spike stood, head bowed. 

He looked… kind of broken, she realized.  She twitched uncomfortably, all too aware that Xander's good humor must have a source.  And with Spike standing below him, looking hurt, bereft – that could definitely brighten his day.  She sighed, gazing at the lone figure at her doorstep.  There were so many things that had to be said, that should be mentioned…

"Your hair is brown!" she blurted out.  Xander stiffened beside her, but his arm didn't move from her shoulders.  Below her, Spike squinted up, smiling ruefully.  He'd changed, she thought.  Maybe it was the absence of peroxide; he seemed gentler somehow. 

"Always was," he replied, self-consciously raising a hand to muss it.  He half-grinned.  "Yours too, I notice."  She didn't reply, still studying his appearance.  Spike stiffened.  This wasn't the time or place, or company, for small talk.  He ducked away again.

"Needed a change."  He shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a tenseness to him that made Buffy wary.  She reached out with her senses.  Nope, couldn't pick up on anything.  Except - suddenly, she blinked and peered up at the sky.

"Spike.  It's almost dawn… shouldn't you be somewhere dark?"  She said it with a measure of concern, he noted, and it made his heart a little lighter.  Truthfully, he was pushing the sun-limits even now; he could feel the hot, tight sensation on the surface of his skin that preceded daylight.  He guessed he only had a few more minutes before he began smoking.

"Yeah, I should."  He recognized a good exit line when he heard it, and began to back away.  "Be seeing you, then."

Buffy watched as he slouched away, a crease forming on her brow.  There was something about this entire setup she didn't like, she realized.  Spike had brought back Dawn, and Dawn was frantic to proclaim his chivalry, but now…

Now, she was watching him leave, without a word of thanks, standing with a gloating Xander in the doorway of their home.  And something wrenched inside her.  This was wrong, to leave it this way.  Xander overbalanced a little as she suddenly slipped out from under his arm, leaped down the steps, and crossed the lawn to Spike. 

He heard her coming.  At least, he thought her heard her coming, but it could be wishful thinking.  He thought he smelled her, all soap and sun.  But he refused to turn around, in case he'd imagined it all.  He wouldn't be that foolish, too look back only to find the door closed, Buffy gone.  Or worse, Harris glaring at him.  He refused to be that fool.

He just slowed his pace a little, even though the sun was rising, his skin was burning, and he knew he was on borrowed time.  It would be sweet though, he supposed.  Burning to ash with the bizarre conviction that she was just a few steps away from him, that she was just about to speak to him.  He could char happily with that delusion in his heart.

And so he was a little shocked when she said his name as he reached the door of the van, a voice from only feet away.  He turned and there she stood. Uncomfortably, he realized, but there wasn't much he could do about that.  Everyone was uncomfortable.  He shifted.

"Yeah?"

Buffy flushed.  Pretty. 

"Spike."  She tasted the word as she said it, still unsure of how it felt on her tongue.  She rushed on.  "I know you've got to take off, but thanks for helping Dawn."  She half-shrugged shyly.  "She likes you, and I'm sure it made everything a lot easier, having a friend with her."

Spike smiled hesitantly.  "No matter, she's worth it.  And, right.  You're welcome."  They both stared at the ground, stalled.  Talking had never been a strong point, especially in natural light.

Daylight.  The sunburnt feeling was getting worse, and Spike really needed to get out of the breaking morning.  He glanced at the van and suddenly noticed something he could use to break the silence.  Perfect. It was a moment's work to reach in and retrieve it.

"Here," he said, handing Buffy the mass of quilt.  "She likes thi – well, actually, she despises it, but I think she's gotten a little attached.  She's named it Fugly, by the way." 

Buffy laughed.  "Figures.  Way to circumvent the non-swearing rule once again."  She wrapped her arms around the bundle, swamped by its sheer size.  They looked at each other and smiled.

"Can Clem find you?" she asked abruptly. Her face was barely visible above the bedspread, and he couldn't quite see the shape of her mouth as she asked. 

"Uh, yeah – probably will look in on him, see what he's done with the old place."  He hadn't thought about it, really, but it seemed important right now.  He would see Clem, if she needed him to.

"Good."  Her voice had an air of determination.  "Then I'll tell him if I need to talk to you.  About Dawn."

He smiled, dazedly.  "Yeah, sure.  Glad to help."  He would definitely visit Clem.

"Good."  She nodded definitively, and stepped back from the van.  Spike took the hint.

"Right, then.  I'm off.  Tell the nibblet to get well soon." 

He hoisted himself into the van, businesslike.  Buffy began to head back to the house, trying to fold Fugly into a more manageable shape.  Neither of them looked back as they parted, each head whirling with conflicted thoughts.  Trapped in their own worlds, neither noticed as the sun rose on another morning in Sunnydale.

TBC