I fixed the status (the story is not complete) and took off the anonymous review block, which I didn't realize was on. Here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

xXxXx

Dawn swung her backpack listlessly at her side as she strolled casually through the cemetery toward Spike's—Clem's—crypt. It had been almost two weeks since she had last stopped by after school—to see Clem, of course, not for any other reason. She liked Clem; he was a big goofball, and goofy demons were fun to hang out with. Much more so than cocky, too-cool-to-live ones who walk around like they own the world and everyone in it with their bleached hair and billowy leather coats. That kind of demon she was quite happy to live without, thank you very much.

She didn't bother to knock when she reached the crypt, just walked in and squinted into the dimness. "Clem? You here?" she called. No answer. Oh well, she could wait for him. She wasn't in a hurry to get home today anyway. Buffy had the night off from the Doublemeat and was insisting that they do something "fun" together. Dawn didn't know what she had in mind, but you could bet that their definitions of "fun" were worlds apart. Digging into her coat pocket, she pulled out a battered pack of cigarettes, shook one out, and lit it carefully with a pink plastic lighter. She sucked in some smoke but blew it out without inhaling. Inhaling was gross. This way she could look cool and not get black lungs and die young. And not cough, either, because that was a dead giveaway that you were new at the practice.

She wandered over to the crappy little TV, clicked it on, and started to adjust the antenna for reception.

"Big sis know you've taken up smoking?"

Dawn screamed and spun around, stumbling back against the TV stand and almost knocking the whole thing over before catching her balance. Her mouth fell open in shock at the sight of him standing there, just feet away from her, complete with familiar smirk and amused eyebrow tilt, as if he hadn't disappeared for over a month.

"Hello, Bit."

Words wouldn't come. She took a reflexive step forward to throw her arms around him, and then caught herself and took a bigger, more deliberate step back when she remembered that she hated him now. The barely smoked cigarette fell from her fingers and hit the cement floor. Keeping his eyes on her, he bent down to pick it up, and took a long drag.

"Good choice," he muttered as he released the cloud of smoke. "My brand."

"You're back." It came out as a question, though she wasn't sure she had intended it that way.

"I'm back, love."

Dawn stared at him for a few more moments, letting the reality of his presence sink in. When she spoke at last, her voice sounded weak and childish, pitiful in her own ears. "I gave up on you."

"You did, did you?" he asked, agreeably enough. "So, ah, tell me something, Dawn. What are you doing here?"

"If you're implying …" She trailed off uncertainly. "I'm here to see Clem."

"Just me here now. Clem's set up camp someplace else by now, I figure."

"Does Buffy know you're back?"

"Not as far as I know. I've stayed pretty well off the radar. But I knew you'd come round here before long."

"How long have—? I mean, have you been—?"

He smiled a little at the rare sight of the bit fumbling for words. "Couple of weeks, give or take."

"You weren't going to tell us."

"Some things I needed to get straight in my mind first. You turned up sooner than I expected."

Dawn's eyes hardened. "Well, that's not a problem, because I'm leaving."

"I'd rather you stay, have ourselves a little chat."

"I don't give a rat's ass what you'd rather."

Spike chuckled, much to Dawn's irritation. "There's my bit."

"I'm not your bit," she snapped. "I'm not your anything."

"Come on, Dawn, let's have it out. I'm betting you've got some real gems stored up to hurl at me, so have at it. Take your best shot."

Her blue eyes were shimmering now, but she refused to let him see her cry. Not this time. Instead, she concentrated on making her voice steady.

"You said you'd never hurt me."

Spike's amused expression disappeared as if he'd been slapped. Stricken, he reached for the girl. She dodged out of reach and then fled from the crypt without looking back. Spike stared at the space she had occupied moments before. "Not bad," he muttered.

xXxXx

Dawn realized halfway home that she'd left her backpack at Spike's. Damn-damn-damn. She'd rather flunk out of school completely than go back for it.

He wanted to make amends, that was obvious. But she wouldn't make it easy for him. If she were ever to let him back into her life, which was unlikely, he had some serious ass-kissing ahead of him. Now she just had to decide whether or not to share the news with Buffy. Part of her wanted to burst through the front door and yell "Spike's back!" at the top of her lungs.

On the other hand, a deeper, darker part of her argued, Buffy didn't really need to know just yet, did she? She'd just screw things up again, more likely than not. This way it could be like having him to herself again, the way it was before he'd brushed Dawn aside in his quest to win her no-longer-dead sister's heart. Could be—if she chose to forgive him. She still hated him, of course. Completely.

She hadn't yet decided what to do when she arrived home. Buffy, Xander, and Willow were hanging out in the living room, and for a change everyone looked relatively happy and peaceful—an anomaly these days in Sunnydale, at least among this group. No need to disturb that, Dawn told herself, bolstering the argument for discretion. She pasted a smile on her face and greeted them brightly. They all looked taken aback by her chipper mood, a glaring contrast to the ticking timebomb of rage she'd been for a month or so.

"Hi Dawnie."

"What's up, Dawnster?"

"How was school?" Buffy asked.

"Great! Not bad," she amended when the first response came out a bit too enthusiastically. "What's on the agenda tonight, Buff?"

Buffy frowned skeptically. "Wait a minute. Didn't you tell me last night that you were going to report me to your child welfare caseworker for forcing you to do lame things like spending quality time with your loser big sister?"

Dawn smiled. "Oh, lighten up, Buffy. Can't you take a joke? Movies and pizza maybe?"

Buffy's frown deepened. "Dawnie, come here a sec."

"What for?"

"Just come here."

Dawn shrugged and took a few steps into the room. "I'm here. What?"

Buffy studied her carefully for a few moments as Dawn rolled her eyes impatiently. "Why do you smell like Spike?"

Dawn's heart froze. "Huh?"

"You. Smell. Like. Spike. Want to tell me why?"

Wide-eyed, Dawn glanced from Willow to Xander, hoping one of them would help her out. "Buffy, you're losing it."

"Actually, you kind of do, Dawnie," Willow offered, wincing a little as Dawn shot her a glare. "I mean, not that I spent a lot of time sniffing Spike or anything…"

"You've been smoking!" Buffy exclaimed.

Oh, the smoke. Of course. Dawn tried not to let her relieved smile break through. "Oh, that. Janice smokes. She gave me a ride home," she lied easily, shrugging it off.

"I don't like that girl."

"I know. Everyone knows."

"And for the record, if I ever catch you smoking you're going to find out what it feels like to be a vamp who gets in my way when I'm having a bad night."

"Duly noted." Dawn smiled once more for good measure and ran upstairs, leaving the others to ponder her somehow ominous cheerfulness.

"Maybe she's on drugs."

"Thanks a lot, Xander. That's helpful," Buffy said.

"Well I don't know. It's weird. She's barely managed a civil word to any of us for the last six weeks, and suddenly she comes in all smiles and lighthearted ribbing? I say we search her room for the dope. Who's with me?"

"There's only one dope here," Willow said. "Maybe she had some kind of epiphany and finally realized that none of us is to blame for Spike skipping town. Let's not look a happy Dawn in the mouth."

xXxXx

"You said you'd never hurt me."

She was right there, wasn't she? He'd told her half a million times the same thing, swearing to protect her, to keep her from all harm, whether in the form of well-dressed hell goddesses or burly, lecherous demons in dank bars—and somewhere in that range must be neutered vampires who loved her and her sister more than life. But he had hurt her, and she hated him for it.

As Buffy was bound to.

The soul blazed in his chest and he knew she'd seeped in there too, as if it wasn't enough to have her in every drop of blood in his body, in his heart, in his every waking thought. As if he hadn't been hers absolutely before getting the soul; the bloody thing had doubled, tripled his need for her. If there had ever been hope of moving on from Sunnydale and putting the Slayer and her bright-eyed kid sister behind him, it had evaporated the moment the trials were over and he was restored.

He wanted to see her more than anything in the world, but he couldn't quite face her yet, or the potential for rejection that loomed so huge and hellish before him. If he knew Niblet (and he did, because she was almost too much like him), Buffy wouldn't know that he was back in town. Dawn would want to keep him as her very own dark little secret, at least for a while. But there were still ways to see her, if he was careful.

Buffy's face flashed before him, a fleeting glimpse of her hair and her scent and the strength that emanated from her eyes. He opened a bottle, and waited for the sun to set.