Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and the folks at Mutant Enemy (grrr! Arrgg!!) own everything. I just own my original plot line :)

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They had left her there, all by herself. Swept in, killed the bad guy, and conveniently forgotten about her again. Had Buffy really forgotten what it was like to be young, and easily manipulated? Dawn wiped her eyes with the sleeve of the too-large Sunnydale letter jacket. God, she hated to be so emotional all the time. She wished that she could prove to everyone how mature she was; that she was 16, the same age as Buffy was when she became a slayer. It was a fact that was known, but not recognized. Every time she tried to prove how grown up she was, another right of passage or awkward teenage moment would get in her way. A light breeze moved gently across the playground and picked up tendrils of her hair.

Playground school bell rings again
Rain clouds come to play again

Dawn lifted her head slowly when the scent of cigarette smoke and leather passed under her nostrils. "Spike?" she said, her voice a little shaky. Dawn cursed herself under her breath. She cleared her throat and hastily wiped her cheeks with the sleeve again.

Has no one told you she's not breathing?
Hello, I'm your mind giving you
Someone to talk to
Hello

Spike watched Dawn from behind a cluster of trees nearby. He watched as the wind danced with her soft curls, the curls she had created to make herself appear adult. He watched as her body shook with labored breathing and sobs. The skin-tight tank top she wore under the jacket clung to every soft curve that she had developed over the year that he had been too busy with Buffy to notice. "Since when did the Nibblet have curves?" he said to himself, stiffening. He didn't like this. He didn't like the idea of newly pubescent boys, vampire or not, lusting over her.

He lit a cigarette, and took a deep drag still watching the lithe figure sitting on the swing. Silver tears caught the moonlight as they fell from her cheeks and made little spots in the sand box. Spike took another deep drag from his cigarette. He watched her from a distance as her life was falling apart. That's how they functioned now, everything from a distance. Now that Buffy was back, things were different. Summers the younger had been pushed aside and expected to grow up all on her own, but at the same time was treated like a child and never given the chance to prove herself. He himself had been blind to the slow death of her spirit. Tonight was just another night among hundreds where he would observe Dawn. He knew how much she silently resented him and his abandonment of her life. Spike knew that she thought he didn't give a damn anymore, and the only reason he cared for her in the first place was because of his promise to her sister.

Spike caught himself wondering what Dawn's opinion of him would change to if she ever found out about the nights that he watched her. Took care of her from a distance, and without her knowledge. All of the evenings that he had followed her and her sleazy friends to the bronze, and watched them coax her into drinking alcohol and smoking cigarettes. He had seen all her barriers of self-restraint fall down, and watched her build up personal walls that no one could break through. She had been lost for quite some time now, unbeknownst to the Scooby clan. Sometimes, Spike would simply stand outside her window at night. On nights that he felt particularly detached, he would climb up the terrace outside her bedroom and sit and watch her sleep. To feel her gentle heartbeat and low breathing that proved to him she was alive. Her room was different now. All her posters had been torn down, and stuffed animals had been stored away. Her room was plain, as if no one lived there. The only sign of inhabitance was her many poetry journals scattered on the floor. Her bed was the same, however; the only thing in the room unchanged, the only bit of color. Spike often sat in her window on those nights of detachment and would look back on last summer when he would hold her in that bed, and let her cry with her face buried in his jacket until she fell asleep from exhaustion.

Taking another drag, Spike smiled sadly at the memories he had of her. Once upon a time, she had been all butterflies and kittens. Her clothing was childish and fit her awkward body with the too-long limbs. Then Buffy had gone, but Dawn was still his, still a child needing care. If possible, she had reverted into an even deeper child-like state of complete dependence and emotional attachment. But now the butterflies and kittens were long gone. Her childish clothing replaced by skin-bearing, cheap material that fell apart the first time you washed it. She'd grown into her too-long limbs, and her awkward, scrawny body had transformed into the form of a woman, curves, breasts and all. It all had happened too fast, with no one to notice except strangers and horny boys. The worst thing about it was that she was not his anymore. She wasn't his Nibblet, he couldn't hold her, he couldn't do anything for her now. The darkness that they had all let take over her was too thick to penetrate, and all he could do was watch from a distance.

Another breeze blew across the play yard, and Dawn's curls spun and twirled around her tear-stained face defying the shallow mood in an ironic sort of way. All of a sudden, he saw Dawn look up and whisper, "Spike?"

Spike closed his eyes, and took in an unnecessary breath. She knew that he was there, watching her from a distance. The pain of witnessing her destruction was too much for him to just stand around and view. No, he couldn't just watch her anymore. It was time to step out in the light. Releasing the breath, Spike put out his cigarette and walked out into the open area towards the swing set where Dawn sat.

She looked up at him, but said nothing. When Spike reached the sandbox, he paused for a moment, unsure of where to position himself. He then ignored the voice inside that screamed about his dignity, and sat in the swing next to her. After a moment of silence, he looked at her and asked, "How did you know I was there?" Dawn casually wiped away stray tears, obviously trying to do it in a manner that wouldn't attract his attention. "I smelled you." Spike frowned for a moment, and reached down and pulled the collar of his leather duster to his nose. "What do I smell like?" he asked, honestly curious. Dawn dragged her bare feet in the sand, and said quietly, "Cigarettes, leather, and sometimes cinnamon. I don't really know why cinnamon, you just do. At least to me." Spike chuckled. "I don't know where the cinnamon bit comes in either."

Silence filled every corner of the area. Not exactly awkward silence, just Dawn's indifference to everything around her. Spike fidgeted nervously, and pulled out another cigarette. As he was lighting it, Dawn looked over and held out her hand expectantly. Spike looked up and his eyes met hers for the first time in months. Her face begged him for a fix, but she didn't say a thing. Slowly, he handed over the cigarette he had just lit, and pulled out a new one for himself.

If I smile and don't believe
Soon I know I'll wake from this dream

Spike watched her out of the corner of his eye. She let the cigarette hang on her lower lip while she tied her curls up at the nape of her neck. She then tucked her hair under the collar of the letter jacket. "What did you do that for?" He asked, curious.

"It makes my hair smell if I leave it down." She said matter of factly.

"You've done this before, then?" Spike asked, even though he knew the answer. Dawn turned to look at him and smirked, defiance dancing in her blue eyes. She put the cigarette back between her lips and took a deep lungful of smoke. As she exhaled, she moved her tongue to the front of her mouth and blew out little smoke rings. She didn't even bother to look at him as she took another drag. He knew that she was quite aware of his shock. It had taken him a while to learn how to do that, and Jesus...look how much smoke she is taking in.

"You're going to ash yourself." Dawn said, glancing over at his cigarette that he had forgotten he was holding. Sure enough, a chunk of embers fell from the end of it. Dawn reached out her hand and caught it in her palm. Holding it in front of her, she examined her hand as the burning ash melted her skin.

Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken
Hello, I'm the lie living for you so you can hide

That was it for Spike. He'd seen enough. Getting off of his swing, he kneeled in front of her in the sand. Taking her hand, he blew the embers off and examined it. Spike scowled. After a minute, he looked up into her emotionless eyes. "Why did you do that?" He asked, trying to keep the rage out of his voice.

Dawn shrugged. "I just wanted to. I can barely even feel it anymore. And who are you to question what I do?" There it was. He'd been waiting for the resentment to show, and there it was.

He paused, still looking in her defiant eyes. "If I told you that I care about you, would you believe me?"

Dawn scoffed, and said, "I think you convince yourself that you care. Do you even know who I am, Spike? Do you know what I've done to myself, the things I've given up?" Her voice quieted to a whisper, but she didn't break her glare. "How much I've lost?"

Spike flinched involuntarily. Yes, he did know. He hadn't done a damned thing about it, either.

"Nibblet-"He began.

"Don't." Dawn said, anger flashing in her eyes.

"-Dawn," He started again, "How can I make you stop all of this?"

Dawn's face twisted in confusion. "Stop what, Spike?" So, perhaps that wasn't the best way of attacking the issue.

"Look...Dawn, you're speeding so far off the soddin' track that it's hard to keep up with you. I do know, Dawn. I know more than you bloody think I know." Dawn stood up, pulling her hand away from him as if he was burning her.

"Bullshit!" she screamed. "You know nothing, Spike. Don't talk to me like I'm a fucking child. Don't patronize me, and pretend to be involved because you lost that right when you abandoned me." She spun around quickly, but Spike was on his feet just as fast. He caught her by her collar and turned her around, pushing her against the wall of the outside bathrooms. Her breath caught in her throat, and he could feel her heart rate speed up.

"Sit. Down." Spike growled low in his throat. The defiance in her eyes was gone, fear replaced it. She had never seen him like this before. At her brief pause, he leaned his head in, and said into her ear, "Sit down, Dawn. We need to talk. You might hate me, but you're bloody well going to listen." She slid down the wall to sit in the grass with her knees against her chest. Her eyes never left his, and he knew he had startled her. At that point, he didn't care. He was too angry, not at her, but at the whole situation. He sat down in front of her. When he didn't say anything, she repeated her statement from earlier. "You just don't know, Spike."

"Yes, I do, Dawn. I know about the drinking, the smoking, the ecstasy-"Dawn's jaw dropped, "Yes, I know about that. And I am aware of how the boys stare at you, and how it makes you feel so dirty inside. And I know how much you feed off of that, of how you are doing things that are so wrong. You're addicted to the wrong kind of attention, Dawn. I know you go out and do what ever the hell you please; convincing yourself you're having a bloody hell of a time. Then you come home and cry yourself to sleep. Don't tell me that I don't know. I never abandoned you; I've been with you, just out of sight." Dawn's eye's filled with tears, but they didn't spill over her cheeks. She wrapped her jacket around her tight, and buried her face in her knees. Sobs racked her body, and her curls fell out in front of her face again.

Please, Don't cry

Spike's anger was ebbing away as he watched her crying. He crawled on his hands and knees until he was directly in front of her, and pushed her hair back from her face. She avoided his eyes, but just stared at the grass in front of Spike. Black eyeliner ran down her cheeks and down the hand Spike held to her face. "Dawn, do you remember last summer when you used to crawl into my lap and let me hold you?" Her forehead crinkled, and she sniffled.

"I'm not a child anymore, Spike." She whispered, as if she had lost everything. "Yes, you bloody well are. Nibblet, you fucked up. That doesn't mean you aren't still a child." Spike reached out and touched her shoulder, but she flinched away from him.

I'm too bloody impatient for this bullshit; the evil side of Spike thought bitterly. If she wants to act immature, let her.

The moral side of him, the part of him that loved Dawn, kept him still. The moment he looked away from her, he felt two arms wrap around his neck, and her face was buried in his shoulder. He said nothing, just snaked his arms around her and pulled her into his lap, cradling her.

Suddenly I know I´m not sleeping

After a few minutes she said, "I wish this whole thing was a nightmare. I wish I could make it all just go away. I didn't mean to be bad, and hurt myself. I know I did, I can't stop. It's my fault, but no one cared enough to fucking help me. That's all I was waiting for... and I know that's stupid Spike, but if no one cared then why should I?"

"I care," he whispered, kissing the place where her ear and hairline met. She pulled away to look into his eyes, searching his own. He could feel the heavy mistrust hidden behind the thick eye make-up. For a moment, her tears stopped, and her body's temor's halted, and she just sat, searching for any signs this was just a game. Her heart couldn't understand how he could care for her, nothing but the younger sister to the strongest woman in the world. "But you can't." She said, falling back into his arms.

"An' why not?" he asked, calmly. Dawn unintentionally clenched her fingers on the back of his jacket as she said as steadily as possible, "It feels like you only have room for one person. It used to be me, I was yours. My everything was yours. Then she came back, and I was the little sister again. I was nothing to you while you were still everything to me."

Spike was about to reply to her blunt statement when she leaned back in his lap and looked at him again, fresh tears making they're way down her cheeks. "Spike, you didn't even smell how much I wanted to die. Vampires are supposed to sense that above all else, besides blood and even that was all over me! If you care, how could you not know? I even dreamed about death and blood, that's all I've been for months now, but you were too busy chasing Buffy to..." She trailed off, not knowing how to accurately express her feelings.

Hello, I'm still here

All that's left of yesterday

Hello

Spike sat there, watching her and taking everything she had said in. Part of him wished he didn't have to be the strong one, and that he could break in front of her. Her glass heart had broken and the shards were cutting and slicing through his cold flesh; one, by one. "Oh, Dawn," He started. She looked away as he reached out to cup her cheek. "You knew he was a vampire, didn't you?" Dawn looked up, taken aback by his change of subject. "What?" she asked softly.

"The boy you were snogging tonight. You knew damn well what he was, did you not?" His tone wasn't accusatory, it was the tone one uses when confirming something they just realized to be true. An epiphany, if you will. The corner of Dawn's mouth curved up in a sad smile. "I'd known for a while. I'd been watching him and his friends. I know a vampire just as well as anyone else in the Scooby gang." She made a gag face at the annoying nickname for Buffy and her friends. When he didn't say anything, she went on. "I couldn't do..." She trailed off once again, not knowing exactly how to word it. Spike turned her face and made her look at him. "I'd been planning to die on Halloween for months. I couldn't do it myself, I've tried. I couldn't think of a better way than by a vampire."

Spike's eyes flashed a brilliant shade of yellow. Dawn pushed off him, a little frightened by his facial change. He looked up, with a slight growl. "Things are going to change, Dawn. Starting tonight."

"Wh-what?" She whispered, not sure if she wanted to hear his answer. "I'm leaving this sunny-hell," Dawn's face fell, and she turned away from him. She turned around when she felt his arms wrap around her waste.

"And you're coming with me."