This was bubbling around in my head in the middle of the night a few weeks ago, and I finally got around to putting it down to the screen. :) This is kind of a weird/amateur-ish-y synopsis, but I think by the time the whole story's done it will be pretty good. :) Please read and review! Feedback makes me happy! (Oh, and if the formatting is messed up, I'll fix it later-- right now, I have to upload this before I'm off to do chores, haha.)

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Eyes Without a Face

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Chapter 1

It had been more than five years since he'd seen her—to others of his kind, the period of time would be considered quite insignificant, but for Spike, every day of living without Buffy was an eternity.

True, the last image he'd seen of the Slayer was of her with another man, but he clung to the memory, trying to recall every last detail. He'd done that before his "death" at the Hellmouth, wanting his last thought to be of Buffy—and it had been, until he was unceremoniously reborn into Angel's office.

Spike smirked to himself as he poured yet another drink into the smudged glass he held, finishing the bottle but having a dusty second promptly provided by the bartender. Angel had had a great run and ended just as he'd always wanted—burning out in a blaze of glory. Even though he and his grandsire had been competitors from the first time they'd laid eyes upon one another, he had fond memories of the late vampire.

It had been a shock to him that he'd survived the battle in L.A. He hadn't even realized that he was alive until he woke up in a dark basement three months after the fact, unaware of the time that had passed or what the fates of his comrades were—but relatively sure that they had not fared as well as he had. To Spike, there was no alternative to survival; losing Buffy, however, had made giving up seem all the more appealing. It had been one of the darker times in his life, trying to stay on this dimension, or plane, or whatever the bloody theologists called it, when for the first time in his life he was completely and utterly alone.

His thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and let a flood of the day's last sunlight enter the bar. He shied back instinctively but froze when he glanced casually at the woman who had just entered.

For a moment, he thought it was her, the woman who had plagued his thoughts since he'd first laid eyes upon her in the Bronze. It was a fleeting notion, thought, when he noted the taller stature, darker hair, and big brown eyes. The woman wasn't Buffy—it was Dawn.

Immediately, he whirled off his stool and receded into the shadowy recesses of the room, cursing the familiar leather duster he wore. What Dawn was doing in London, he had no idea, but he was not about to give his Li'l Bit the scare of a lifetime—there were enough ghosts in her past without one manifesting itself into her life without a warning.

As he watched her approach the bartender and set herself onto the same stool he had occupied, Spike could only think about how much she looked like her Big Sis. In the six years since he'd seen Dawn, she had grown from the awkward and gangly teen into a beautiful young woman. Affection he had long repressed rose within him and made it even harder to refrain from bounding over tot eh girl and pulling her into the tightest embrace she'd ever know.

"What a sodding sap I've become," Spike murmured to himself, smiling fondly at the girl despite his spurned affection. The girl was still talking to the bartender when Spike sensed the last rays of sunlight disappear beneath the horizon, and when she stood to leave, he was out the door behind her before he could remember why he shouldn't be.This very well could be his only chance to see Dawn for the rest of his days—not to mention Buffy. As he began following her on the crowded streets of London, the thought that he may see the Slayer again seized his soul and compelled him to disregard any idea that this was a bad decision.

The crowded streets were quickly thinning, and Dawn turned onto a side street, heading, as Spike quickly realized, to a cemetery. He grinned to himself at the similarities between the sisters, then dropped further back behind her, no longer having the concealment of the teeming streets. A chill rose in the air as fog swept around the graveyard and Dawn shivered, pulling her leather jacket more tightly around her thin shoulders. She really did look just like Buffy—and it was no wonder, Spike realized; she was now about the age that the Slayer had been when he'd last seen her.

The brunette pushed open a wrought-iron gate and stepped from the grassy path in the cemetery onto a cobbled street lined with dark houses. The brick wall dividing the graveyard from the homes momentarily stole Dawn from Spike's view, and he experienced a moment of panic when he heard her begin to chuckle softly—had she realized that he was following her? A moment later, though, and he caught the scent of the five vamps waiting behind the wall, on the street, prepared to ambush their prey.

Before Spike could think of what to do, he heard Dawn's voice—a voice uninhibited by fear or worry, which is exactly what he was expecting to hear. "Dusty night, isn't it?" And then the night was pierced with the unmistakable sound of a vampire dusting.

Jumping up and peering over the wall, his feet securely placed upon a headstone, he saw his Li'l Bit fighting the remaining four vamps, her stake held at ready as she kicked back and dusted a second. He was momentarily stunned that in the time he had been gone, she had grown so much; so taken aback, really, that he didn't notice the vamp holding the shovel coming from behind Dawn and—

"Crap," the girl said cheerfully as she slumped to the ground, the hard metal hitting the back of her head and knocking her into semi-consciousness. She stared upwards at the three vampires remaining, thinking to herself that her sister would be quite mad that she up and got herself attacked again and wondering exactly what her next move could be, in the lying on the ground and barely-conscious method of fighting. It had almost dawned on her, when one vampire kneeled on the ground next to her body, that this may not exactly work out very much in her benefit—when a blur of black and white appeared, ripped the shovel out of the stunned vamp's hands, and promptly decapitated it with the blade, a cloud of dust momentarily clouding her savior's features but clearing quickly to reveal—

"Oh, my dear lord. Dawn!" a voice called frantically from down the street. Dawn looked in the direction of the sound and saw her sister's Watcher running towards her, and when she glanced back her savior was no longer there, nor were the vamps that had attacked her; they were currently running as quickly away from the girl as they possibly could. "Dawn," Giles panted, arriving at the prostrate girl and gently lifting her body into his arms, despite his obvious exhaustion from his run. "I'm right glad those vamps saw me coming and thought I was a potential threat—I don't think I could slay a teabag right now after that run down the block."

It took a moment for her to register the words before she could coherently reply. "Huh?"

"The three vampires, Dawn," Giles explained patiently, his voice taking on a soothing quality when he realized exactly how hard the girl had been hit on the head. Maybe explanations would be better in the morning… "Just rest for now, Dawn. Buffy's due home any minute and I'm sure she'll be thrilled to hear about the latest near-death experience you've had."

"Funny, Giles," the girl murmured, her eyes drifting shut and remaining that way until they arrived at their small house, Giles setting her down on the couch just as Buffy's voice announced her presence.

"Giles, what happened?" the Slayer questioned frantically when entering the room and seeing Dawn's nearly-unconscious body lying on the couch; before the Watcher could provide her with an answer, she was at her sister's side and trying to illicit a response from the girl. "Dawn, wake up, it's Buffy. Dawn!" Rolling his eyes at the slight overreaction of his Slayer, Giles left the room and went to retrieve ice for Dawn's head from the kitchen.

"Oh," the younger sister said, opening her eyes once more and locking her gaze with the blonde's. "Buffy."

"Everything's alright now, Dawn," Buffy said soothingly, brushing a strand of her sister's dark hair away from her face. The words that followed were spoken almost so softly that she didn't hear them.

"I know it is, Buffy… because he's still watching over me." And with that, Dawn closed her eyes and finally drifted off into sleep—and providing her sister with a night of insomnia over her ambiguous assertion.