Author's Notes: I'm really sorry I didn't update this sooner. I meant to update it every week, but work has just been so crazy lately, I haven't had the time I'd like to write properly. I'm aiming to update it fortnightly, just to be on the safe side J

Thank you for all the reviews, I really do appreciate them. I know the story's a bit confusing now, but hopefully as it will be less confusing with the coming chapters.

In particular to vanillagigglez: I never bought into the whole Spuffy thing. There may be a few Spike/Buffy moments (there's one in this chapter that would probably be considered a bit Spuffy), but nothing really romantic or anything like that. I don't believe Buffy & Spike were ever 'meant to be,' and I think they knew that as well.

Anyhow, I think that's it. Enough of my ramblings and on with the story. Hope you enjoy!

Cold.

It's the first thing that made its way through the fog of her sleep muddled mind. She snuggled beneath the blankets of her bed, wrapping the covers more securely around her as she nuzzled her face even closer between the sheets and the pillows.

Yet still, she shivered faintly, and she opened her eyes in annoyance. It was never this cold in Sunnydale. The thought sent a pang through her as she remembered her old home.

How times had changed from the days she'd argued with sister over clothes and rolled her eyes every time her mother told her to put on a sweater.

Stopping herself before her thought turned too maudlin of days long gone, she jumped out of bed and stepped lightly and swiftly across the cool wooden floor towards the wardrobes. Picking the first thing that came to hand; she quickly dressed and opened the curtains.

It was a grey morning, the clouds were still heavy and purple grey in colour. The fields that blanketed the land around the house seemed darker, and even the pair of horses Giles kept appeared panicky and coiled, as if ready to race as soon as any danger headed their way.

Frowning, she turned away and tied up her long brown hair. Her thoughts immediately sprang to their unexpected visitors the previous night.

They had all assumed Spike was dead. It was a natural assumption really, considering what was happening in the States at the moment.

She had been so excited when Giles had opened the door and there he'd stood. Panting, and dripping wet from the rain, but alive. Very much alive. If only her sister could have been as excited.

Determined not to fall into the depressing Buffy thoughts for the moment she sprang down the stairs and into the kitchen where she found their platinum vampire.

"Hey," she smiled sliding into the seat beside him and relieving him of a slice of toast.

He greeted her with a grunt and a glare.

"So," she began conversationally, "how did you get here?"

He snorted, not looking up from his breakfast, "no small talk, then?"

Dawn shrugged and waited for him to continue speaking.

"Well, it wasn't easy, love, that's for sure."

"We thought you were dead."

"You weren't the only one," he muttered darkly.

"There's no contact with the States anymore, and all borders are supposed to be sealed off."

"Tell me about it. You have any idea how long it took me to get to the Canadian border? Yeah, that's right, Canada with their bloody huskies and those damnable Mounties. No point even attempting to get across the Mexican boarder, it's like Fort Knox."

Dawn rolled her eyes, and looked towards his companion from the previous night whose eyes were bright and was scribbling madly on sheets of paper strewn around her like designer tiles, "what's her story?"

"Fred?" he lifted his eyes to the physicist, who looked back at him at the sound of her name for the briefest of seconds before continuing with her writings.

"Tell you the truth, pet, I'm not entirely sure. Last I heard they had her, don't see her for months, assumed she was dead. Next thing I know, she's shouting after me down the street, babbling about knights and evil lords, God knows what else."

Dawn's eyes widened, "she- she was taken by them a-and she escaped?" her gaze travelled to the former scientist, who was still intensely focused on the pages before her.

"Look what it did to her though. Mad as a bleeding hatter. Still, sometimes…" his voice trailed off and Dawn turned to him questioningly.

"What?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "sometimes I think she's trying to tell me something. Like she knows something important, she just can't quite say it."

"You think?" she asked eagerly, her eyes widened in wonder and the possibilities flashing before her mind.

"Dunno. Maybe I'm imagining things."

"I-if there's a chance Fred could be useful, that she could somehow help us-"

"Hold your horses there, Calamity. Never said she could help us turn the tide."

"No, but it's a start," her eyes shone brightly, "I mean, if i you're /i still alive, then maybe…maybe Angel's st-"

"Angel's dead, Dawn."

Dawn twisted in her chair to see her sister enter the room, her face as cool as marble, her eyes like ice.

She walked towards the sink, staring out of the window at nothing in particular.

"Your sister's right, li'l bit," Spike added, "the Eternal Misery is no more. Least we don't have to listen to his whinging any more."

"B-but if Spike and Fred can-"

Buffy whirled around, the cool face of a moment ago, lost in eyes that burned like fire.

"I said, Angel is dead, Dawn. Deal with it," she enunciated each word so precisely, and with such heat, even Fred stopped her scribblings for a few seconds to look at her, with just a hint of fear in her face.

Dawn sprang up from her seat and raced through the door, Spike looking after her. He turned and frowned at Buffy's now turned back.

"Was that really necessary?"

"She needs to learn."

The chair scrapped along the tiled floor as Spike got up and walked towards her, "learn what exactly?"

"That we're not always going to have a happy ending. She," she shook her head gathering her thoughts again, "she keeps expecting some magical solution to all of this. Like someone's just going to show up with the answer to end everything that's happened, something that can make the world into the perfect place. Giles only encourages her."

She rubbed her forehead vigorously, and started when she felt his hand rest on her shoulder, "there's nothing wrong with having hope, Buffy."

She looked at him and started laughing, almost hysterically, " i hope /i ? Spike, you should know better than anyone that we're beyond that. You've seen what's happened in the States, it's practically overrun with demons and vampires. It's i illegal /i to have any dealings with anyone in America. You can be arrested for making a phone call to someone within US boarders."

"It's America, pet, it's not the entire world. There are still billions of people out there that need you, you can't give up."

Buffy walked away from him to the other side of the room, her arms crossed, gripping her sides tightly.

Fred didn't even spare them another glance, lost as she was in a world of her own making.

"When we used the scythe in Sunnydale," Buffy began, then hesitated for a moment, and looked anywhere but at him, "we gave the power of the slayer to every potential throughout the world."

"I know that, slayer. I was there, remember?"

She shot him a withering look, "it may have worked for the battle in Sunnydale, but we didn't think beyond that. We never even considered what could happen to them. There's slayer's out there, mere girls, who are targets now for every low life demon that comes along!"

Spike watched her intently, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach.

"There's no Watcher's Council anymore, Spike," she continued quietly. "There's nobody to look out for them. And, funnily enough, all the vampires and demons aren't saying, 'Hey, they're only children, let's wait a while until they grow up a bit and can defend themselves a bit better.' That's not how they work, Spike. We both know that."

Her eyes were bright, and she angrily brushed at them with the sleeve of her shirt.

"Buffy," his voice was like a caress as he stepped closer and cupped her cheek, using the pad of his thumb to brush away a stray tear that had escaped.

"They used to send them to me," she told him, her voice returning to the hardness that had become her natural tone of voice.

"What?" he asked confused.

"Their bodies," she wetted her lips briefly and looked towards the window again, "that's why we left. Dawn doesn't know, and I don't want her to," she added looking back towards him fiercely.

He stood back, lifting both his hands in the air, "won't breathe a word, Summers, promise."

She nodded jerkily, "I'm glad you're okay."

"Me too."

Buffy got distracted by something over his shoulder, and he turned to see Rupert Giles, former watcher and eternal tight arse, staring at them disapprovingly.

"Am I…interrupting, anything?" he asked, his voice dripping with censure.

"Well, actually," Spike started.

"Of course not," Buffy cut in icily, "I'm going to go find, Dawn."

She left the room, and they spent a few minutes staring at each other. Giles was the first to break the silence.

"I'd like to think you didn't come here just to cause trouble, Spike."

Spike snorted in response, "tell you what I didn't come here for, and that's to hear your self-righteous twaddle. So, how about you just leave it out then, hmm?" he replied, eyes darkening dangerously as he brushed by him.

He grabbed his duster and put it on.

"Where are you going?" Giles asked impatiently.

"Out, Dad. Don't worry I'll be back before my curfew. Keep an eye on Fred for me," he yelled over his shoulder, letting the door slam closed behind him.