Dawn was safe in bed. Grounded for what Buffy assured her was the rest of her life and dutifully pissed about it, but safe in bed. That taken care of, Buffy stood by the back door and watched Spike from the window, sitting on the top step of the porch and blowing an occasional smoke ring at the sky. Brooding. If she said that word to him he would be righteously offended, as it was a term almost solely ascribed to another vampire—one who would remain nameless if she didn't want to see the vein in Spike's temple pop right out of his head. Not fair game for discussion, that particular ex.

Finally, when he was lighting his third cigarette in a row, she opened the door and went to sit beside him on the step. He didn't acknowledge her presence until she leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder.

"Thought you were going to spy on me till daybreak."

"Thought you were challenging sunrise," she countered. "And I don't feel like sweeping dust off the deck. Come to bed, Spike. Please?"

He offered her a half-hearted smirk. "I like it when you beg, pet." He exhaled a cloud of smoke and smiled more sincerely when she wrinkled her nose and waved the air in front of her face distastefully. "So delicate, the Chosen One," he remarked dryly.

"Just because you won't die of lung cancer doesn't mean I should have to be subjected to your secondhand carcinogens for the rest of my life," she lectured. "Besides. It smells yucky."

He raised an eyebrow at her, biting back a smile. "The rest of your life, yeah?"

She almost blushed and tore her gaze from the probing scrutiny of his blue eyes. "You heard me."

"I did," he said, nodding. "I thought I'd give you a chance to take it back." He held up a finger to curb her quick, defensive reply. "One. Chance. It's gone now."

"I'm sorry," she muttered softly, placing her hand high up on his thigh. "I shouldn't have yelled at you tonight. I—I was just worried about her. It wasn't your fault."

He gave her an incredulous look. "I must be dreaming. Did you just apologize to me, Slayer? Me, evil dead thing that I am?"

She tightened the hand that was resting on his thigh warningly. "Don't be a smartass," she said. "I just … I was wrong, and … well, you ended up bringing her home in one piece, and if you hadn't found her in time, God only knows what might have happened. I should have known you'd come through. You always have."

Spike took a long drag from his cigarette, dropped it, and ground it out with the heel of his boot. "Not exactly true, though, is it," he muttered, his voice deep and gruff. "The 'always' bit."

Buffy sighed deeply. There it was again, the burden he refused to let go. She took his cool, strong hands in hers and squeezed them hard. "Spike. Look at me."

He reluctantly raised his shadowed eyes and gave her a sour smile. "Come on, Buffy, you know that's the truth. I screwed up. I failed you. I failed Dawn. If your friends hadn't been so bloody brass-balled to try that spell you would still be gone and nothing would be different now. I can't forgive myself for that. I won't."

"You have to," Buffy snapped, harsher than she'd intended. "I'm back, and it doesn't matter how I got here. You did everything you could have done to protect us that night, Spike; nobody questions that! Xander doesn't question that, and that's saying something. Not to mention what you did for Dawn while I was gone, the way you watched over her. You say you won't forgive yourself, well I won't let you keep punishing yourself for things that were out of your hands. One of us is going to have to give."

Spike's jaw clenched and unclenched rhythmically as he bit back a reflexive sarcastic retort. After a long pause, he turned toward Buffy and took her hands in his. "It won't be me, not this time, love. You believe what you're saying, I know you do. But they're just words, sweet. Just words. They don't change it. They can't erase what happened."

"Then I'll give you more than words," she whispered huskily, moving in to kiss him as her hands slowly, deliberately sought him out in the darkness.

"Buffy," he breathed, as she touched him and her sweet scent and taste intoxicated him as always. "Oh, my Buffy, my girl, I don't deserve this, I don't deserve you…"

They managed, barely, to make it to the bedroom.

xXxXx

"…So then I raised the trash can up and hit it as hard as I could on the back of the head. It was so cool; it turned around to look at me like, 'hey, that hurt!' And then it…"

"…almost ripped your pretty head off bare-handed. Don't leave that part out."

Dawn, perched on the kitchen counter and enthusiastically recalling her slightly skewed version of the previous nights events for Xander, looked up to see Spike standing there, rumpled and sleepy-looking. In the bright overhead light, he looked pretty banged up; even more so than she'd noticed last night.

"Oh, come on. It did not."

Spike gave her his trademark raised-eyebrow look and opened the fridge door. "Is there anymore of that pig's blood in here?" he asked.

"I think it's behind the milk," Dawn said. "Or if not, Buffy moved some packets to the freezer. We were running out of room in there now that she's actually remembering to do the grocery shopping every week."

"Ah, here." Spike found one of the bloodbags and turned to find Dawn handing him a smiley face coffee mug. He gave her a friendly little wink as he took it and began to pour his repulsive excuse for breakfast into it.

Xander frowned at the casual, too-familiar exchange. "So. You're, ah, sleeping here now?" he asked, the disapproval positively dripping from the words.

Spike couldn't resist a smirk at the boy's barely suppressed anger. "Buffy didn't tell you?" he asked, wishing Dawn weren't present so he could add "Not doing much sleeping, actually" for good measure.

"Buffy did not tell me," Xander said. "Dawnie? Did you know about this?"

Dawn winced a little over the rim of her orange juice glass. "Um, well. Yeah, kinda."

"Wonderful. All kinds of role model goodness in this house. I have half a mind to call Child Welfare myself."

"Come on, Xander, I'm not a baby," Dawn protested at his grumbling. "It's not like I'm gonna go out and hook up with the first hot vampire I meet just because my sister has a soft spot for them…"

"Hey!" Xander and Spike protested at the same time. After a quick glare at each other across the room, Spike went on. "Damn right you won't. And there's no call to bring him into this; I'll lose my appetite."

Dawn smiled teasingly. "Who, Angel? Did I even say that?"

"I'm warning you, Niblet!"

"Okay, okay. Anyway, Xander, it's really fine. Buffy and Spike are very, um, discrete."

Hearing this, Xander's eyes actually seemed to shoot sparks at Spike, who was eyeing Dawn with an expression of equal parts suspicion and discomfort. The tension level went up a few notches when Buffy came in, wearing silky red pajamas and smiling tentatively at the three of them. "Hey, Xander, I didn't know you were here." She shot a quick glance at Spike and then looked back at her friend, hoping against hope that he would keep his evident disapproval to himself. It was much too early to deal with macho-protective Xander. "What are you guys talking about?"

"I'm assuring everyone that I can't hear anything that goes on in your bedroom," Dawn offered helpfully, seeming to enjoy the discomfort she was spreading. "Even though the walls are really thin and Buffy's voice tends to carry."

"Okaaaay," Buffy breathed, turning her back to them and rummaging in the fridge as she felt her cheeks redden.

"Buffy, can I have a word with you?" Xander asked.

"No," Spike answered, ignoring Buffy's warning glare and Xander's look of death. "You're just going to try to poison her mind against me, and it's pointless, mate. Get used to the new living arrangements. None of your damn business anyway."

"Spike, that's enough," Buffy commanded. "Xander, if he's right, and that's what you want to talk about, then you can save your breath. Anything else, you know you don't have to ask."

Xander looked over at Dawn, who was taking all of this in interestedly. "Never mind," he mumbled sulkily. "We'll do it later, I'd rather not get into this in front of…"

"I'm not a kid!" Dawn piped up.

Xander offered her a distracted smile and stood up, draining the last of his coffee and tossing the cup in the sink as he walked toward the door. "Tell Will I'll pick her up later."

"Xander…" Buffy began, but he cut her off with a flick of his hand and was out the door before she could even think of what she wanted to say. "Damn," she finished as the door slammed shut.

"Wanker," Spike muttered, shaking his head disdainfully.

"That could have been worse," Dawn said brightly. "I think he took it okay. There was no hitting, or yelling, or … staking."

Buffy sighed and turned toward her sister. "Dawn, tell me something. When you say that my voice carries…"

"Oh, ew, Buffy!" she interrupted. "I was just trying to freak you out."

"Oh. Oh, okay. Thank God."

"But you know, if you guys want to be alone tonight, no kids within earshot, there's this party…"

Their answers came simultaneously.

"Forget it, Dawn."

"Not a chance, Bit."