Thanks for the reviews. This was going to be a one-parter, but I realized that I enjoy writing fluff and had some spare time on my hands. To answer the question, this story is definitely not Spawn. Dawn and Spike have an interesting friendship dynamic that I like to explore and wish had been addressed more (and not dropped altogether) on the show. But couplewise, it's Spike and Buffy all the way. Thanks again for reading, reviewing, and making me smile. I was having a crappy day.

xXxXx

"Oh shit!"

"What? Dawn, what's wrong? You look sick."

She drained the cup of hunch punch in front of her and quickly turned her back toward the door in the faint hope that he wouldn't see her. She forgot, sometimes, that hiding from a vampire is just about impossible. They can smell you, which is gross, but true. And running, also tempting, but out of the question—because they're pretty damn fast.

"Hide me," Dawn said through clenched teeth. Janice shot her a puzzled look and then turned to scan the crowd. Suddenly, understanding dawned in her eyes.

"Ohhh," she breathed. "Is that…?"

"Yes. He's going to kill me. I swear, he really is going to rip my bloody head off this time."

"Want me to distract him?"

"Won't help," Dawn said. "Is there a back door in this place?"

"I don't know, let's try the kitchen."

The teenagers began weaving their way through the crowded room, heading for the door at the far end, through which they stood a slight chance of escaping undetected. They were almost home free, pushing people out of the way, when someone grabbed Dawn's arm. She let out a sharp squeal and turned to see Michael standing there in all his gorgeousness. Michael…why did it have to be Michael?

"Hey, Dawn," he said, and he was flashing her that smile that made her weak in the knees and queasy and hot and sweaty all at the same time. But in a good way. "I didn't know you were here."

"I'm not," she said apologetically, tossing a paranoid glance over her shoulder. "I mean, I am, but I'm on my way out. Like, now."

"Oh." Disappointment flashed in his crystal-green eyes, and Dawn silently cursed Spike for being hot on their heels. "You're not headed home already, are you? I mean, I've kind of had enough of this party. I was going check out who's playing at the Bronze. Todd's coming; his brother's roommate is working the bar tonight, so he can hook us up. You guys in?" He glanced at Janice in invitation.

The alcohol had gone straight to Dawn's head. She felt loopy. No sign of Spike yet, but he was sure to be tracking them. "Yes!" she blurted out overenthusiastically. "We'll wait for you outside, okay?"

Michael smiled. "Sure, I'll go get Todd."

Dawn grabbed Janice's hand and pulled her toward the back door. The night air was cold and intoxicating—which, she realized, she probably was, too. But that was okay; she felt free, and more than a little wild.

"Dawn, have you lost your mind?" Janice asked, but she was smiling. "You know you're about to get busted by your vampire bodyguard, or whatever the hell he is. What are we doing?"

"Having fun," Dawn said, shrugging. "I've earned some of that. And I'm in pretty deep shit either way; we might as well enjoy ourselves while we're postponing the inevitable. Besides—Todd, Jan. Tell me you don't want to go."

Janice nodded. "You've got me there, Summers."

"They'd better hurry, though. We're on seriously borrowed time."

A minute later, Michael came back out with his tall, blond, equally tasty friend. "Hey, Dawn? Some guy's inside looking for you," Todd said. "He seems kinda pissed."

Janice and Dawn exchanged looks. "Anyone feel like running to the Bronze?" Dawn muttered under her breath. Aloud, she said, "Let's hurry; it's freezing."

xXxXx

The Bit's little disappearing acts were getting old, and he had long since lost patience with her antics. It was one thing to sneak out now and again for a harmless adolescent lark; quite another to do it knowing full well that there was a big bad on the loose with a taste for children just her size and shape; and quite another when the whole mess led to a fight between him and Buffy. Now that was the part that really enraged him, and the reason he was currently tracking the Bit by scent through the streets of Sunnydale while envisioning all manner of torment he would inflict when he got his hands on her.

Memories of the fight resurfaced, boiling the already-scorching blood in his veins. They had been lying in bed, spent for the moment, Buffy working to catch her breath and Spike basking in her scent, the softness of her bare flesh, the warmth she radiated in dizzying counterpoint to his essential cool.

"Think Dawnie heard anything?" Buffy'd asked softly, her lips tickling the skin of his chest as she spoke against him. "I tried to be quiet that time."

"Doubt it, since she's not here. Then again, I could make you scream so loud the neighbors would hear … if you'd like me to tr—"

"What do you mean she's not here?" Buffy demanded, raising up on her elbows to look at him in alarm. "You heard her leave?"

Spike raised an eyebrow at her sudden change in demeanor. "Yeah, 'bout an hour ago."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I was kind of busy, Slayer!" he said defensively. "Besides, you told her she could sleep over at Michelle's tonight."

Buffy eyed him for a moment, then balled her fist up and pounded it sharply against his chest. "Damn it!"

"Ow! And what?"

"She told you that and you bought it? Geez, Spike, you've been alive for a hundred years; I thought you were a little quicker on the uptake. And Dawn? Not exactly known for her honesty lately. Why didn't you check with me?"

"I didn't think much of it. Does it matter?"

"Yes!" Buffy's voice rose steadily as she climbed out of bed and began snatching up garments from the haphazard pile on the floor. "It matters that my little sister is out there God knows where doing God knows what when there's a monster on the streets about whom the only thing we know for sure is that he has a hankering for teenage girls. It matters that you heard her leave and didn't bother to mention it even though you know damn well that Dawn's been out of control and that I wouldn't let her go anywhere by herself at night until we kill this thing—even across the street to Michelle's—who, by the way, she's not even friends with anymore!"

"Are you done?" Spike shot out when she paused to take a breath and pull a sweater on over her head.

"Probably not. But it'll keep. Right now you need to get your naked ass out of that bed, get dressed, and help me find her!"

And so here he was. Buffy had split off from him when they'd left the house on the search and rescue (which, in Spike's mind, was becoming more of a search and destroy with each passing minute). The Slayer was still fuming. Which in turn enraged him. And what was worse, for the first time in their long and checkered history, he didn't think he could fight with her. She was too newly back, too newly his, and he knew he would take her rage and her misplaced blame and her careless insults and actually be grateful, deep down, that she was here to deliver them. But he could—and would—fight with the little one. If the monster didn't find her first. At that, a surge of unbidden fear for the bloody stupid girl cut through his anger, swallowing it, and he picked up his pace. Where the hell are you, Niblet?

xXxXx

The little group reached the Bronze without incident, although Dawn kept glancing back over her shoulder to make sure no bleach-blond vampires were on their trail. How they had thus far stayed ahead of him was a mystery, but one she didn't care to solve. Once inside the crowded club, Todd took Janice and went to wheedle drinks out of his brother's roommate, and Dawn grabbed Michael's hand and pulled him toward a table nestled in the shadows under the stairs. "Privacy," she explained.

"So, who was that guy?" Michael asked, leaning in close so Dawn could hear over the music and bar noise.

Dawn gave him her innocent face. "What guy?"

"The one back at Jenkins' place … tall blond guy, black leather, looked about ready to beat the shit out of anyone who looked at him funny."

"Oh, him," she said, shrugging casually. "No one … just a friend."

"Friend, huh? Getting mysterious on me, Summers?" he said teasingly, but Dawn could tell he was forming his own oh-so-wrong conclusions about her and Spike.

Laden with drinks, Todd and Janice joined them and sat down across the table. Dawn took one of the proffered glasses and started gulping the sweet, acrid liquid. It burned going down, and she didn't really care what was in it.

"Janice, you know who that guy was, don't you? Dawn's not talking," Michael said, stretching out an arm and resting it around Dawn's shoulders. She felt heat rise up from her stomach at the touch and blushed with pleasure.

Stalling, Janice took a sip from her own drink and looked at Dawn for direction. Dawn shot her a warning glance that only a best girlfriend could read. "Oh, him?" Janice said, and then smirked devilishly. "Just Dawnie's ex. He can't seem to get it through his head that it's over, so he keeps following her around and trying to make her give him a second chance."

Dawn tried to convey "You are so dead" with a subtle kick to Janice's shin, but missed, connecting with the metal table support instead.

Michael raised an eyebrow at Dawn. "I see," he said, amused. "So that's why you were so ready to haul ass out of there."

Dawn laughed nervously, still trying to catch Janice's eye and give her a "thanks a lot" look. "Yeah, something like that."

As the time passed and the drinks flowed, Dawn became increasingly convinced that by some act of cosmic mercy, they had actually managed to shake Spike off their trail. And when Michael leaned in and kissed her, her stomach swooped thrillingly and all lingering concern over whether or not she was going to get caught and painfully murdered vanished from her drunken mind. Those thoughts were quite satisfyingly replaced with Oh my God, his hand is on my thigh, should I put mine on his, am I doing this right, he tastes like spearmint!

She didn't see him come in even though her line of sight over Michael's shoulder—had she retained the presence of mind to open her eyes and look—incorporated the door. He was just there, suddenly, all ice-blue eyes and black leather, anger coming off him in waves that Dawn could actually feel. Startled but still reluctant to pull away from Michael, she broke the kiss and opened her mouth to let the excuses roll, but Spike grabbed her arm in a grip so tight it would even impress Buffy, and Dawn's words were lost in an inarticulate cry of indignation as he pulled her to her feet.

The vampire's gaze trapped Michael, boring into him. Michael stared back and forth between Dawn and this new arrival, struck speechless. Spike bent down to eye level with him and said in a tone that could have sliced through flesh, "Who the hell are you?"

"I-I think I'm the one who should be asking you that," Michael said in courageous and undeniably foolish defiance. "Dawn, what's—"

"Don't talk to her," Spike cut in. "I've a mind to pull your bloody lips off, make sure they don't get anywhere near this girl again."

Mortified, Dawn shoved at Spike ineffectually. "Stop it," she commanded in what she meant to be a deadly tone, but which came out just this side of whiny. "It's all right, Michael. He's crazy," she explained pointedly, still struggling to remove her arm from the vise Spike held it in.

"Hey, let go of her," Michael said, his commanding tone belying the fear that shone in his eyes. Across from him, Todd stood up, ready to help his friend out in the increasing likelihood that the scene turned violent.

"Yeah, man, hands off the lady," Todd offered, his courage bolstered by the abundance of alcohol flowing through his system. As Spike's steely glare slid off him, though, he raised both hands in surrender. "Or, you know, whatever. We don't want any trouble."

"Spike, dammit!" Dawn protested hotly. "Come on, let's just go. Michael, it's okay, I'm fine."

"Don't count on it," Spike growled.

Michael looked at Dawn, uncertainty clouding his eyes. "Are you sure…"

"Don't worry," she said, trying to reassure him with a smile that felt plastic in the throes of this utter humiliation. Yanking roughly at the back of Spike's duster with her free arm, Dawn hissed through gritted teeth, "Let's go."

He shot one last fierce glare at Michael before turning and sweeping out of the bar behind his charge. "You have any idea how dead you are, little girl?" he asked once they were out in the chilly night.

"Not as dead as you are," she shot back acidly. "Hello, vampire?"

"I could beat your lying ass for this, Little Bit. Your sister is out for my blood, you know that? Yeah, thanks to you. Well what do you know; you're busted in spite of your ingenuity. And I'm not feeling nearly so merciful this time, what with you screwing me over the way you did. Wh—where the hell do you think you're going? House is this way. I'm not done with you yet—oi!"

Dawn ignored him and kept walking in the opposite direction. When she felt his hand on her elbow, she spun around so hard and suddenly that it actually surprised him. Burning tears of anger and humiliation filled her eyes, and she didn't trust herself to speak, so she settled for a "back off" gesture.

Finally at the end of his rope, Spike had to firmly remind himself not to smack her. "Dawn, stop it, now, and come with me. Buffy's worried sick."

Dawn rolled her eyes exasperatingly and huffed, "Why?"

"Because it's dangerous for you to be out here by yourself with—" Spike broke off, head tilted and eyes fixed on something in the shadows, out of Dawn's line of sight.

"What?" Dawn said, alarmed by his wary expression. She turned to follow his gaze, but saw nothing. "Spike, what?"

"…with things like that out to get you," he finished in a barely audible murmur.

From the shadows, it lunged at Dawn.

xXxXx

To be continued, now that I've decided to keep it going. Please let me know what you think.