Epilogue, because I just don't know when to quit.

xXxXx

"How can you eat this stuff? It's not even meat. It's like some weird kind of pseudo meat product." Dawn wrinkled her nose, absorbed in the delicate operation of removing a slice of pepperoni from her pizza without taking off all the cheese with it.

"It is too meat," Buffy said defensively. "It's … pepperoni meat."

Operation complete, Dawn dropped the offending topping into the discarded pile she had accumulated in the corner of the cardboard pizza box. "I don't trust meat that doesn't require refrigeration. Gag."

Buffy frowned across the kitchen counter at her sister. "Don't gag about my dinner, Dawn. It's rude. But while we're on the subject, how can you eat those creepy things?"

"Anchovies are vastly underappreciated," Dawn said, popping one into her mouth as if to prove the point.

"Anchovies are an abomination."

"You like Caesar salad. Caesar salad is chock full of them."

Buffy's jaw dropped, a slice of pizza frozen a few inches from her mouth. "That's not true!"

"Yeah, it is. Spike, tell her."

Spike leaned over Buffy's shoulder and snatched up the last slice of the anchovy-and-pepperoni-topped source of debate, smirking at the high-pitched protest of both Summers girls. "Bit's right," he said. "In the dressing. Anchovy paste, or somesuch."

"Spike, for a vampire who has no need for sustenance other than blood, you sure do eat a lot of our food," Dawn noted.

"Hey, I can eat for reasons other than hunger. Blood gets boring, especially the pig's swill I'm on now. Cut me a break."

"Fine. I'm done anyway. Gotta finish getting ready." Dawn stood up and started for the stairs.

"Hold it a sec. Operating procedure?"

Dawn studiously refrained from rolling her eyes as she looked back at her sister. "Buffy, come on…"

"Do you want to go or not?"

"Yesssss." Dawn tapped her foot impatiently on the floor.

"Operating procedure."

With a heavy sigh, Dawn recited, "Straight to the theater, cell phone in my pocket, stake in my purse, call if I get into trouble, don't get into trouble, no drinking, no smoking, no debauchery of any kind, straight home after the movie, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. To bottom line it, no fun."

"You forgot no touching," Spike said.

"No I didn't. That wasn't part of the deal."

"It is now. No touching. Add it to the list."

"Spike, if Michael wants to hold my hand, I'm not going to stop him. If Michael wants to kiss me, I'm open to that too. In fact, if Michael wants to—"

"Does Michael want to die?" he interrupted, eyebrow in don't-mess-with-me position.

"You can't kill him," Dawn said dismissively. "Soul would never let you."

"If he lays a bloody finger on you, pet, the soul will cheer me on as I tear him limb from limb."

"Buf-fy…!"

"It's all right, Dawn. Spike won't embarrass you. Well, he might, but I promise he won't actually eat your date. But really, let's keep the 'touching' thing to a bare minimum."

"Bare? What the bleeding hell kind of word is—"

Buffy raised her hands in surrender, suppressing a smile at his typical overreaction. "Sorry, sorry, bad choice of words. Dawnie knows what I mean."

Dawn smiled. "Limit the naked touching. Got it."

"Niblet, I swear on all that is unholy—"

Dawn laughed. "Can I go now? He'll be here soon."

"Yes, go, ignore the crazy vampire," Buffy said. Dawn seized her chance and hurried off to her room.

"How do we know this bloke's not a vampire?" Spike asked, munching sulkily on his slice of pizza. "You Summers girls do seem to attract a certain breed of nonhuman, you know. I'm not sure we should let her go."

Buffy slipped an arm around his waist. "He's fine. She brought him over last week, and he met all the criteria. Cute, check. Sweet, check. Dutifully wary of wicked strong and overprotective big sister, check. Heartbeat, check—I'm almost positive." She slipped her hand teasingly under the fabric of his jeans. "Besides, if we don't let her go, we'll have to contend with a Dawn-tantrum of legendary proportions, instead of finding new and creative ways to enjoy the peace and quiet of an empty house."

Still frowning but obviously intrigued by the prospect, Spike dropped his pizza and drew Buffy forward until her petite body was pressed against him. "You do know how to argue your point," he said huskily, tracing her lips with his thumb.

"What can I say?" she said slyly. "I know how to turn a vampire on."

Spike froze and pulled back slightly, his brows furrowed.

"What?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"I don't like that."

"What?" Buffy repeated, genuinely perplexed as he let go of her and stepped away.

"That implication that there have been others."

"Well … there have. One other. What, this is news to you?"

"I don't like it, Buffy. I don't want to be reminded of him when I'm kissing you."

She rolled her eyes. "Are you seriously going to start this right now?"

"I'm not starting anything. I'm just telling you not to make comments like that."

"Spike, honestly, you are making something out of nothing. I don't know why that should surprise me, since that's what you do. But really. Let's move on and forget about Angel."

Spike threw his hands into the air in a frustrated gesture and stomped over to the liquor cabinet to begin noisily making himself a drink. "That's it."

Buffy laughed in disbelief. "Spike, you are being…"

"You had to say his name!"

"You brought him up!"

"But you said his name. You didn't have to say his bloody name."

"Oh for the love of God. Angel, Angel, Angel!" Buffy shot angrily. Spike's eyes blazed at her, and he slammed the bottle of bourbon down on the counter in front of her with a bang that should have shattered the glass. They glared at one another over the top of it. "If you trusted me it wouldn't bother you!" she said into the tension.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're still waiting for something to come between us. You're still waiting for Angel to become an issue. Well listen up, Spike, because I'm sick to death of saying this. It's not going to happen. What I had with Angel is in the past. What I have with you is not. It's going to last, damn you, no matter how royally you piss me off on a regular basis. You're infuriating and ridiculously jealous and overbearing a good deal of the time, but I love you. How long is it going to take to prove it?"

Into the silence, Dawn came bounding back downstairs. "Okay, someone's going to call the cops if you guys don't chill out. What could possibly have happened in the two minutes I was gone?"

Still locked in a death glare with one another, neither of them spared her a glance.

"Well, okay, since nobody's feeling chatty, just promise me you won't kill each other while I'm gone. Because I don't know about you guys, but I'm really tired of drama."

The sound of the doorbell broke the spell, and Dawn suddenly looked panicked. "Oh crap, he's here! Do I look okay? Is this skirt stupid? It's stupid, I shouldn't have worn a skirt. It looks like I'm trying too hard, doesn't it? Buffy, help me!"

Buffy pulled her gaze away from Spike's ice blue eyes and looked at her sister. "You look beautiful, Dawnie, don't change a thing."

"Skirt's too bloody short," Spike offered. "Go put on some jeans or something, Niblet. You don't want this wanker thinking you're—"

"The skirt is fine, Dawn," Buffy said firmly as Dawn glanced down at her outfit, panic rapidly dissolving into horror.

"Here, I'll get the door. I should meet the—"

"No!" Dawn squeaked, grabbing Spike by the arm to hold him back. "Buffy!" she appealed desperately.

"Spike, stay. Dawn, go on, have a good time. Be back by curfew," Buffy said, and Dawn shot her a look of pure gratitude even as Spike scowled his displeasure.

Dawn took a deep breath to compose herself, waved half-heartedly at her sister and Spike, and left them to whatever emotional mess they were brewing this time.

Another long silence fell over the kitchen when she was gone. "Should have let me meet this little ponce. You're a bit too subtle with your threats of bodily harm, Slayer. I'd've left no room for miscommunication." She didn't respond, and after a few moments, he spoke in a gentler, more humble tone. "I do trust you, Buffy. I don't trust your ex. But it's not even about that, really. I'm just not sure how I'm supposed to accept those words when you offer them, because I can't understand how—because I don't trust me. I don't trust that I'm worthy of those words, not from you. Not yet."

"Well I do." Her eyes snapped up to his, and he saw that she meant it. "So get used to it."

"It's that simple for you?"

"Yes."

Spike studied her open, honest face, and then nodded. And suddenly his arms were full of Slayer, and whatever his next words might have been died on his lips.

xXxXx

The park at night. Bad things happen at the park at night in Sunnydale. Dawn knew better than to be there at all, but Michael was so sweet, and ubercute, and he'd teased her into stopping there after the movie to hang out for a bit. The stake she'd been instructed to bring (and the cell phone too, for that matter) was safely stowed in her purse—in Michael's car.

And when he kissed her as they sat together on top of one of the shadow-patterned picnic tables, she was so overcome with giddy glee that she didn't notice his lips were perhaps a little too cool, or that his breath on her face—well, wasn't there.

"I really like you, Dawn."

"Really?" She squeezed her eyes shut briefly. Stupid response.

"Sure. Hey, let me ask you something. Your sister … she's pretty tough, huh? I mean, I've heard things. She kind of has a reputation for being … pretty tough."

Suddenly cautious, Dawn pulled back to look at him. "Yeah, she is. Why do you ask?"

"Some people say she's got like superstrength or something."

"That's dumb."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he said. "Just wondering if there was any truth to the rumors."

"Hey, Michael?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you planning on kidnapping me and luring my sister into a trap so you can bring down the Slayer and become some kind of hero of the vampire community? Cause, I gotta tell ya … been there, done that." Even before his eyes flashed amber and his hand darted out to grab for her, Dawn was off and running for the car, her purse, her stake.

The fight would have made Spike and Buffy proud. After they'd finished yelling at her, of course.

xXxXx

The End

Reviews—and reviewers—will be cherished for all eternity. Please guys, throw me a bone so I can keep the fires burning on my other stories.