Dawn and Nicky were sweating their asses off while preparing to close the bar and serving a million customers at the same time. Nicky kept yelling at Dawn to not leave bottles and what-not out, Dawn ignored him and even tried making a mess of things. It was only 15 minutes until close and Dawn wanted to stall for as long as possible. She just didn't feel she was quite ready to be alone with Spike. Or anyone for that matter.

Dawn had poured her last drink. 3:01 am. She was late. Good, more stalling time. Dawn had thought too soon. Bobby came up to Dawn and said,

"Hey, Dawn. Some guy named Spike is waiting for you. Do you want me to get rid of him?" Impatient little brit.

"No. I told him to meet me out there." Nicky had overheard and chimed in,

"You can go ahead, Dawn. There's not much left to do anyways."

"Umm, are you sure? I don't mind staying."

"No, go on ahead." Dammit!

"Oh…okay then." Dawn walked slowly to her jacket. Then she went into the bathroom. Of course, it wasn't because she had to go. She looked into the mirror. Her eye makeup was a little smudged. She grabbed some toilet paper and wiped most of it off. Now I don't look like such a whore. Then she started getting extremely nervous and started to sweat even more then she already had. She grabbed more toilet paper and wiped her face, her neck, her chest, under her arms…basically everywhere that wasn't covered with clothing. She could hear her blood pumping through her head. The butterflies in her stomach were hyper, and she couldn't stop shaking.

Dawn looked at her watch. 3:06. Okay, I just need to go out there and get it over with. Dawn put on her jacket and strolled out of the club. She spotted Spike standing underneath a streetlight, surprisingly enough, smoking a cigarette. The light was glaring off his leather duster. He reminded Dawn of one of those villains in old black and white detective movies. God he looks sex—er, scary. Oh God. I was not going to say sexy. I was not going to say sexy. Spike looked over to the door to see his Little Bit standing and staring at him. Jesus, I never realized what a somber look she had on her face. Spike threw down his cigarette and walked over to her. He held out his arm and Dawn grabbed onto it. They started walking. Dawn wasn't feeling so anxious anymore. Maybe it was just the fact that she had something to hold on to.

"So, pet, where are we going?"

"My apartment. It's about a mile and a half that way, give or take." Spike just nodded his head, desperately trying to think of something to say.

"So, how long have you been working at The Blue Room?" Nice, Spike. Next, why don't you just talk about how lovely the weather is.

"I've been working there about 4 years. It's a good job. I usually make a lot of tips."

"Oh yeah? Was your tattoo a requirement?" Dawn looked up at Spike and cocked her eyebrow.

"Are you making fun of me, Spike?" Spike shook his head.

"Nah, Bit. You have the courage to get one. I myself am too chicken to get one. On the other hand, I would have live for an eternity with one, so it kind of puts it in a different perspective." Dawn lightly smiled. Not much was said after that. The two walked to Dawn's apartment in silence. Okay, so I'm walking home, arm in arm, with a notorious killer vampire who tried to rape my sister. Oh yeah, I feel a lot safer on these streets of New York.

Spike and Dawn made their way to her apartment building. Before Dawn took out her keys, a man wearing all black ran up to the two with a gun pointing at them.

"Okay, give me your wallets! Now!" Spike laughed, punched the guy in the face, took his gun, hit him over the head with it, and pushed him to the ground. The man shook his head and looked up to Spike. Spike and Dawn looked at each other, looked at the man, and started laughing as they made their way into the building and up the stairs. Spike was glowing.

"God, I love muggers! I love the look on their stupid faces after an ass kickin!"

"Well, I'm glad you enjoy it."

"Oh, come one, you weren't in any real danger."

"I wasn't talking about just now." Spike was suddenly concerned.

"What? You were mugged before?" Dawn didn't say anything. She stopped walking and lifted her tank top to reveal a deep scar on the right side of her ribs.

"Bloody hell, who did that to you?"

"Last year, walking home from work. I gave him my money and the bastard stabbed me anyway." Spike placed his fingers over Dawn's scar and realized that Dawn looked skinny—really skinny. Her ribs were too visible and her waste was too small. As soon as Spike touched her, Dawn pulled down her shirt and started walking down the hallway. Her face grew red and she felt just as nervous as when she left the club. Oh Jesus, here we go again. Dawn came to her door and fiddled with her keys. She dropped them.

"Damn." She picked them up…and then she dropped them again.

"Dammit," Spike gave her a funny look, "I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm all out of sorts tonight."

"Is that so? Because you were fine just a minute ago." Spike walked up to Dawn, now towering over her as she found her door key.

"Y-yeah, well, I, uh, well—" Dawn finally opened her door, "Oh, look, it's my place." Dawn speed-walked over to her fridge, suddenly craving some alcohol. She opened it up and grabbed a beer. She looked over to Spike, who was still standing at her doorway.

"Spike? What are you doing?" Spike smiled at her.

"Um, I kind you need your permission, Bit."

"I don't get—Oh! Right. Vampire. Come on in, Spike." He slowly glided in and threw his duster onto Dawn's couch. Even after 8 years, Spike still had a nice and fit form. Spike still has the bod. Dawn took a big gulp of her beer and threw her jacket along with Spike's.

"You want something to drink?" Dawn looked at Spike, who had a big grin on his face.

"What? What's worthy of your grinning?" Spike pointed to her beer.

"Last time I saw you, it was chocolate milkshakes over beer."

"Yeah, well, that was a long time ago. I've changed." Spike walked to Dawn's fridge and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

"Well, I could see that, Bit."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Spike found himself a glass and poured away.

"First of all, I cannot get over the fact that little Summers got a tattoo. Especially of a naked woman."

"Fairy."
"Huh?"

"It's a naked fairy." Spike drank out of his glass.

"Whatever. Also, seeing you working it at a bar. Smoking cigarettes. All of the makeup…You're a lot smaller too." Dawn sat on the couch, moving the jackets to the floor.

"Smaller?" Spike walked over and sat next to her.

"Yeah, I mean, do you eat? Ever?" Dawn gave a little laugh.

"When I have the chance," Spike cocked his head, "I just work so much. I'm always working and sleeping, working and sleeping. Well, sleeping isn't the word I'm looking for. More like lying in bed at night, staring at my ceiling, wishing I could fall asleep." A brief pause. Spike rested his hand on her back. Dawn shot up from the couch.

"Wow, I, uh, need a cigarette," She grabbed one from her purse. She threw the pack to Spike, "You want?" Spike pulled one out and stuck it in his mouth.

"Thanks, pet." Dawn sat in the rocking chair sitting across from the couch. She decided it would be best to sit further away from Spike. For the next two hours, they sat there talking about what had been going on for the past 8 years. Dawn told him the story behind her tattoo, her crappy job at McDonald's, her various boyfriends and girlfriends. She left out the sex part though. She wasn't quite ready to be that open with Spike. Spike had been traveling around the country. He also told her about an organization who trained people to be slayers. He helped them with the training. He told Dawn about how sick he was of the girls swooning over him, whispering about how dreamy he was and how sexy his accent was. Dawn laughed at that.

"What's so funny?" Dawn shook her head and lit up another cigarette.

"Nothing…It's just that I was that age once and I thought the very same thing. Were you ever sick of me?"

"Never, pet. I loved being with you."

"Yeah, because you loved Buffy." Spike rolled his eyes and got up to get another drink, "Spike?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you still love her?" Spike thought to himself for a minute and sat back down, his head lowered.

"I guess so. I always will, in a way."

"But not like you used to?"

"No. I was…a bit messed up about it back then."

"So, if given the opportunity, you wouldn't, like, have sex with her, right? Or at least try to?" Spike's head shot up and glared at her.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"What the hell do you think that means, Spike?" There was a long silence. Finally, Dawn stood up.

"I'm going to bed. You should probably get some sleep too. The sun will be—" Spike grabbed her arm, his eyes narrowing at her. Dawn stopped. She didn't look at him and then began to shake. Spike stood up, never letting go of her arm.

"Why are you so damn afraid of me?"

"What makes you think I'm afraid of—"

"I can smell it! I've been smelling it ever since we met up outside. Why, pet?" Tears started to well up in Dawn's eyes.

"Because…because of what you did to Buffy." Spike relaxed his face. A tear rolled down Dawn's cheek.

"Because of…of what Derek did to me. Because of what eventually all men to do women." There were more tears now. Dawn was trembling. Her knees buckled. Spike caught her before she had the chance to fall and set her on the couch. Spike had his hands on her shoulders now.

"Dawn, do you think that Derek and I are…the same?" Dawn shrugged her shoulders.

"Maybe…I don't know…" Dawn rested her head in her hand, "Ever since you showed, I've been really nervous and scared and confused and…and…Spike, I'm so tired. Can I just go to sleep now?" Spike looked at her for a while and then gazed at Dawn's wall.

"Yeah, go get some sleep, Dawn. I should probably get some shut eye, too." Dawn was sniffling now.

"Okay," Dawn some-what put herself together and went over to the hall closet, "There's blankets and stuff in here. Just help yourself to how many you want. I'll, uh, see you later."

"G'night, Pet."

"Good night, Spike." When Spike heard the bedroom door shut, he went over and got himself some blankets. He contemplated sleeping in his regular sleeping attire—nothing, but he figured with the situation, it was probably not a good idea. Spike hated sleeping in his regular clothes. He wished he didn't leave all of his clothes in Maine. At least I could've put on a different shirt or something. Meanwhile, Dawn was in bed, wondering what the hell just happened in her living room. Don't turn into a basket case. Not now. I just wish I could go to sleep. As if someone had granted her wish, Dawn had fallen into a deep sleep, a kind of sleep that she hadn't experienced in a very long time.