"Dawnie, come on, Sweetie, you've gotta get up for school," Tara insisted, gently shaking the girl's shoulder. She was ready to leave for work, and wanted to be sure Dawn was up before she left.

"I'm not going," Dawn immediately replied, her voice dull and expressionless, but clear, unclouded by sleep. She had been awake already, then. Tara wondered if she had slept at all.

Her heart sank at the girl's words. She felt responsible for her – she had no one else now – and knew she needed to be in school. But it had only been two days since her sister had beaten her, tried to kill her best friend, and disappeared completely, all in the space of less than forty-eight hours. If Dawn wasn't quite up to facing algebra and vapid high school gossip, Tara couldn't blame her.

Still, she felt the need to try. "Dawnie, honey, I know…"

"I said I'm not going," Dawn interrupted in that same awful, dead tone.

Tara paused. "Ok, Dawnie," she caved, her voice soft. "I'm leaving for work now. I'll see you about six, okay?"

No response. Tara knew it wasn't personal, and tried not to take it that way, but could not help but feel a twinge of guilt at Dawn's demeanor. After all, in a way, she felt responsible for Buffy's disappearance. If Buffy had been conscious when Reyem was defeated, the situation could have been explained to her before she panicked and bolted. Tara knew in her heart that she had had no other choice than the one she had taken, but it really didn't help much with her sense of responsibility for what Dawn was going through.

Once Tara had left, Dawn released a heavy sigh, and the tears she had been holding back. She had never felt so bereft – so lost and alone. Tara was trying, hard, to be what she needed, but what she needed was her sister back – her pre-possession, normal, loving sister – and Tara could not give her that no matter how badly she might want to. Dawn was trying to be strong and mature, but deep down she knew, she still needed someone to take care of her.

She sat up suddenly in her bed. She had someone to take care of her. And she needed him.

She got out of bed and padded down the hallway to her mother's old room, the one Tara had shared with Willow, and now shared with Spike. Slipping through the door, she stood there for a moment in the dim light of early morning, refracted through the tightly closed blinds, just looking at the still figure in the bed.

"Spike?" she whispered.

He jumped and rolled quickly over onto his back, his eyes wide and fearful, until he saw her and visibly relaxed. "Hey, Niblet. Why aren't you in bed?"

"Couldn't sleep," she whispered.

Her own eyes were wide, wild, and frightened, and he could see that she was trembling.

"C'mere, Bit," he said softly, patting the bed beside him.

She immediately obeyed, and sat down beside him, leaning lightly against him, not looking at him.

"It's gonna be all right, Bit," he softly soothed her, reaching out to take her hand in his.

To his surprise, she lay down on the bed, her back to him, nestling closer to him as she pulled his arm around her. She craved this closeness, but did not want him to have the chance to read what was in her eyes.

My poor little Bit, he thought sadly. It's right tragic when all she's got left for comfort is me!

"She'll come back, and everything'll be like it was," he reassured her, and himself.

"Will it?" she challenged the words, and he did not reply. Dawn always saw through the platitudes and false comfort others held out to her. He should have known better.

After a brief pause, she added in a soft, halting voice, "Would it – would I be – a terrible person – if a part of me wishes she wouldn't?" The last words came out in a rush, as if she was trying to get them out before she could stop herself from saying them.

His heart ached for them both at her words, because he felt the truth of them, too. His lips brushed across her dark, silky hair as he tried for a soft laugh and replied, "Well, maybe, cause there's a really big part of me that wishes that, Bit – and we both know that I'm a terrible person!"

The weak joke nevertheless brought a smile to her lip, and she clasped his hand in hers, snuggling closer to him.

"More'n likely she just needs to sort all this out for herself before she makes her appearance, Bit. When she gets back, she'll get back to being herself again," he assured her. "But it's natural to feel a bit of doubt about it, love…after all that's happened." He swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure as he remembered once again in vivid detail the events of the past few months. Now was not the time to break down. He knew that Tara would be there if -- when -- he needed to vent, but he had to stay strong for Dawn. She needed him like he needed Tara.

So he fought back his own tears, so close to the surface all the time these days, and hugged her closer, whispering into her ear, "It's all right, Bit. Everything's gonna be all right."

The sun had set, leaving only a few faint pink streaks in the evening sky, and Spike and Dawn sat on the living room sofa, watching a movie, though neither of them was paying much attention to it. Dawn was snuggled up in the crook of his arm; he felt warm and comfortable with her there. He did not know how he would have survived the past few weeks without Dawn and Tara. Actually, he knew that he would not have survived it without them.

The doorbell rang, pulling him out of his reverie. He nudged Dawn with his arm behind her. She gave him a wide-eyes, adorably pouty look. When he just smiled and nudged her again, indicating for her to answer the door, she threw her hand over her eyes and said in a faint, breathy voice, "Too…weak…must…have…rest!"

Barking a short laugh, he pushed her off of him and got up to answer the door. "And you say I'm over-dramatic!" he muttered in good-natured annoyance. "Bit thinks I'm her bloody servant just cause she…" His words broke off suddenly as the door opened, and he lost the breath to speak. He stared at her in silence for a long moment, scarcely able to believe his eye.

Buffy.

The almost automatic sick feeling of fear that rose from his stomach up his throat lasted only a few moments. Whatever horrors had passed between them, it was obvious with one look at her that this was not the same girl who had been responsible for them. Her eyes welled with tears at the sight of him. She was shivering with the cold, and the expression on her face was heartbreakingly desolate, the look of one who desperately longs for but does not ever expect forgiveness.

So she remembered, then. As Tara had said. As for the other question that plagued his mind – the answer remained to be seen.

But she needed to come in and get warm, and she was just standing there, staring at him with those wide, stricken eyes, transfixed.

"Well, don't just stand there, love, come in here," he said softly, moving aside for her to enter. "Dawn," he called slowly, cautiously. "Come in here, Bit."

She could tell by the tone of his voice that something was up, but he could not have prepared her for what she felt at the sight of her big sister, standing in the doorway, shoulders slumped in dejection, eyes overflowing with miserable tears.

"Oh, Dawnie," she whimpered, her face crumpling as she broke down at the sight of her, kind of half-stepping, as if she wanted to go to her but didn't dare.

Her instinctive fears dissipating at the sight of her sister's pain and uncertainty, Dawn went to her, wordlessly enfolding her older but smaller sister in her arms.

"Oh, Dawnie, I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" Buffy sobbed, as the younger girl held her, rubbing her back and gently shushing her.

Spike stood awkwardly to the side, overwhelmed by his intense emotional reaction to seeing her again, feeling the need to say something, but not wanting to intrude. He was just about to turn and leave the room when Buffy pulled away from Dawn and turned toward him, reaching out a hand to touch his arm.

In spite of the gentle sorrow in her eyes, he could not help but flinch away from her touch. Pulling her hand back, as she turned fully toward him, her mouth falling open slightly in hurt, she took a slow step toward him.

"Spike – please…" she whispered.

It was already more than he could bear. Shaking his head, he walked past the girls into the living room, where he sank down on the edge of he sofa with his head in his hands, trying for all he was worth not to break down.

Dawn immediately left Buffy and went to his side, sitting down beside him in silence and putting her arm around him. Buffy watched them for a moment, Dawn comforting and soothing with her mere presence, Spike fighting back his tears. Slowly she approached them, her hands held slightly out, beseeching, until she was only a few feet away. Tears streaming from her eyes, she fell on her knees beside him, reaching strong but gentle hands up to take his own hands from over his eyes.

"Please – please look at me!" she begged him, sobbing now.

He did not pull his hands out of hers, but did not look at her either.

"Oh, God!" Buffy sobbed, gasping for breath, holding his hands tightly, desperately. "Spike, I'm so so sorry! I know it doesn't change anything, I know I've hurt you so much, but I'm sorry, I can't tell you how sorry I am for what I've done to you!"

His tears fell at those words, his mouth working silently, struggling for control of his emotions. He had longed to hear those words for so long, but now that they were actually reality, he didn't know how to feel about it.

Buffy continued, crying softly, "Please! Please forgive me! Oh, God, Spike, forgive me!"

He just sat there for a moment, never looking at her, before slowly unentangling his hands from hers and standing up; she remained kneeling on the floor, looking up at him through her desperate, tearful eyes.

"I can't, Buffy," he whispered in a voice thick with tears. "Not…yet…I'm not saying not…not ever, but…but it's just too soon. I can't." And with that said he left the room quickly, going to his and Tara's room and shutting the door behind him.

Buffy stared after him in shock and disbelief, trembling. Dawn rose slowly and put her arms around her. "It's ok, Buffy," she whispered, scarcely believing she was able to say the words herself. "He needs time. Do you – you remember…?"

Buffy nodded slowly, still staring after Spike, trembling as the sobs took her over again.

Dawn nodded too, looking into her sister's eyes. "Time. Just give him time," she repeated. Then she made herself smile for her sister's sake and hugged her again, whispering in her ear, "Welcome home, Buffy."