Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy (Grr, Argh) own all. Sorry this took so long.

That morning Dawn woke up with more gusto than she had in months. She brushed her teeth, her hair, washed her face and got dressed. As she decended the stairs, she saw Buffy in the kitchen drinking her coffee. Not a word was passed between them on the events of the previous night.

School was normal.

School was hell.

Her clock had to be wrong; time couldn't possibly be going by this slowly. The bell finally rang, she was out of there.

i for good, i/ she thought happily. She ran home, deposited her books in the closet and pulled out her duffle bag.

"Dawn Summers!" was written in frilly pink letters, and a pair of toe shoes decorated the childhood bag. She frowned as her fingers met with the familiar silk of her ballet slippers. Oh, how she wished she still danced. There was never enough money after Joyce died for lessons, so she had stored her gear away in the back recesses of her closet, they were too painful to look at.

As she reached to remove them from the bag, she paused and tucked them back in. She wanted to keep them, no matter what happened. They were i hers i/ .

She waited patiently for dark. Every inch of her itched to get out, to just bolt like a scared pony. She set her duffle on her window sill, and walked to Buffy's bedroom.

"Buffy, I just wanted to say goodnight and that I love y-" Buffy's room was empty.

She's patrolling.

Dawn sighed and moved back down the hall.

When she reached the grass under her bedroom she looked up. So many memories, both good and bad were born and will die in that house, she thought.

A gentle voice pulled her out of the reverie she had slipped into.

"C'mon Nibblet. We've got to get goin'."

She glanced up at him, stake raised in alarm. "Spike! I thought we were meeting at the Magic Box."

He motioned for her to follow him and lead her into the wooded area behind the Summer's home. "I ran into Buffy, and she was on her way there. Bloody lucky she didn't see me."

"Oh, that's where she is. I was going to go and say goodbye, but she wasn't in her bedroom." Her voice was distant, as though she didn't even care.

Spike stopped and knelt in front of her. "You listen to me, Bit. This isn't gonna be goodbye, Spike is just takin' you away for a little while. We are going to get you healthy again, this place will kill you."

"But I don't ever want to come back. All things good in this place are tainted and infected with blood and death, even my sister."

Spike studied her face and tone. He knew she wasn't being dramatic, or silently begging him to tell her otherwise. She was telling the truth, she really never did want to come back here.

He sighed and stood up, taking her duffle. They walked in silence for hours. She didn't ask where they were going, she wasn't even entirely sure that he knew. All that mattered was that she was leaving. She was going to find Dawn.

The literal meaning of that phrase became a problem for Spike. Their progress was halted when the threat of morning came upon them. Just as the sun broke through the trees, they took refuge in an old wooden barn, clearly abandoned in the middle of the woods.

Dawn paced, and twitched and cleared her throat repeatedly. Staying put was killing her. Now that she started her run, she never wanted to stop, never could get far enough away from the poison seeping from her home.

After a few hours of watching her restless behavior, Spike finally spoke up. "Nibblet, can you just… sit? Just sit down, for Christ sake, you are going to run a soddin' hole in the floor boards."

She turned to him, her desperation showing clearly on her face. "I'm so scared. I have this feeling wrenching in my guts that no matter how far or fast I run, Sunnydale will catch up to me. Something is after me, trying to drag me back and oh God, I can't calm down."

"Shh, Love." His arms were around her shaking body before she even knew he was standing. She leaned into him, breathing in the comforting smell of leather and tabacco.

"There's a girl. What usually makes you feel better, calms you down? For me, it's cigarettes, alcohol and sex. I hope your choices are healthier." He winked, and she smiled at him.

"I used to dance. It put me higher than any drug could, nothing could touch me when I was dancing." Her smile faded in remembrance.

"Were you any good?" Spike asked, interested.

"Actually, yes. It was pretty much the only thing I was really good at. I was way better than Buffy. She cheerleaded and all that shit, but that's repetitive jerky motions and gymnastics. I could move my body in ways she couldn't, I had a stronger core and better balance, and I flowed." She paused, "I miss it besides that. I loved it, it was mine. I was free of everything and everyone else."

She stopped talking when she noticed his smile. "What?" she questioned, suspicious.

"Nothin'. S'just good to see you passionate about something. But why all with the past tense?"

"Buffy needed me to quit after mom died. We couldn't afford it." She looked at her duffle bag unconciously.

"Well, I think you should dance for me." His voice was excited, persuaded, set.

"Now? Spike, I can't dance." She looked at him as though he was a crazy person.

He smirked, "Sure you can, Bit. You danced with me last night."

"But that was different! We were playing." He was having none of her protests.

"Fine then. Dance with me, but put on your shoes. I know you have them, I felt the wood through the bag." She paused, sighed, and sat down next to her duffle bag.

She removed her powder blue toe shoes and foot wraps. When her feet were wrapped in the gauze, she slipped on her shoes and felt the familiar tightness and uncomfortableness. Dawn stood up and flexed her legs, stretching all her muscles.

She felt him watching her, and said "Dancing is serious, Spike. If I danced before warming up I could get seriously injured. My feet will probably bleed after this, but I honestly don't care."

She reached behind her and pulled her left leg over her head, arching and stretching out her back. He didn't say a word, just watched her in wonder. He had never seen her so serious about anything, so completely in love with any aspect of her life.

"I know this is going to make me sound like a ponce, but I feel special to be able to see this side of you, Bit."

Dawn smiled at him as she put her leg back down. She walked over to him, and he bowed humorously. "My dear lady?"

She took his offered hand with a giggled, "Kind sir!"

Spike led her in a fast waltz, where there was no direction, nor pattern, nor grace whatsoever. His pride was screaming, but her laughter kept him going. She collided against his chest when he made a sudden misguided movement, and he joined in her laughter.

"Jesus!" she cried, "slow down or I am going to either break my ankle or impale your foot!" Her eyes were lit up, and she couldn't keep the fun from her face.

"Pardon my rudeness, my dear. I seem to have lost control of myself in your splendid presence. Will you join me as I slow the mood down to a slow dance?" His old English drawl was emphasized, and his eyebrows waggled dangerously.

She laughed and bantered, "At least pick a direction!" Her hand slipped back into his, and his arms wrapped around her waste.

"You flatter me, Love." He whispered in her ear, cockney accent back in full swing. Dawn stood on the wood of her toe shoes and moved with his body guiding her. Her left hand unconciously played with the collar of his duster, and she leaned into the smell of him.

Comfort, finally. There was no music, no beat or rhythm, only Spike using dancing as an excuse to hold her close and give her strength. She needed it, too. To be held put her back in the childish mindset where all that mattered was feeling special in the eyes of her father. Spike wasn't even close to her dad. In fact, he had been the only person to never leave or walk out on Dawn, which was a far cry from Hank Summers.

Suddenly she pushed off from his chest and for the first time, danced. Her body was taken over, and her mind had slipped into a place of calm and comfort. Her legs bent, and her back arched with the flow of her body. She carried out moves she hadn't even remembered, but her muscles and heart recalled each fluid movement.

Spike sat down against the barn wall and watched her dance and cry to the music in her head. She danced for what seemed like hours until he finally made her stop.

Dawn complied, frowning as she removed her toe shoes. He looked over and grimaced at the blood seeping through the gauze bandages. She looked up at him with brimming eyes and whispered, "It was worth it. Thanks."

He grinned and pulled her close to lay on his shoulder. "Goodnight, Love."