Carol pulled into the driveway slowly, hoping no one will try and get in behind her. Maybe this time I'll be able to talk to Dawn's guardians and introduce myself. Carol feels a twinge of sadness at remembering Joyce's death. She'd been such a big part of the community. Still can't believe that dead beat ex of hers never came for those poor girls.

Carol turned off the car and got out of the car quickly. She hated the night, especially since she moved to Sunnydale. This was southern California, sure, but it's not like it was L.A. or some big city. It was supposed to be safe here. Still, couldn't beat those housing prices for such real estate.

Sighing, she grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

"Who're you, then?"

"Ah!" Carol let out a short squeal of surprise when a man seems to appear out of nothing. He's dangerous. Instinctively, Carol put her hand in her purse and held onto the pepper spray, priming it. "What do you think you're doing, scaring people like that?"

"Jus' doin' my job. Keepin' the house safe. What's your story?" The man pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his large leather duster, but didn't pull one out.

"I don't have to explain myself to you." Walking past him, she started up the steps and headed to the door.

He was in front of her in seconds, standing between her and the door.

"Do it anyway."

Feeling her determination falter, Carol took a step back. Up close, he looked even more intimidating and downright scary. He had a nasty scar above his eye, that she could only imagine he'd gotten in a fight.

"I'm here to get my daughter. Now if you don't get away from the door, I'm going to-to-"

"Oh, you're short-stuff's mum. Right then."

The man stood up and opened the door, holding it open for her. She stepped inside warily, still gripping the pepper spray.

"Bit! Your friend's mum is here! Bit!" leaning up against the wall, the blonde man lit a cigarette. "Thought she was spendin the night, Carol. Weren't expectin you 'till mornin'. Pardon me for bein skiddish." He didn't look particularly repentant, but she found herself calming down.

"Well, something came up and she needs to come home. Where is Buffy, or those girls—Willow and Tara?"

"Out. They'll be back in an hour or so."

"Right. And you are…?"

"Watchin the house. Thought that was clear enough." Clearly bored with the conversation, the man tilted his head towards the staircase. "Bit! Don't make me go up there, come on! Say your goodbyes and all."

"Right. I'm not sure how comfortable I am with my daughter being alone in the house with a strange man prowling around outside the door 'watching the house' as you put it."

"Then don't be." Done with the conversation, he threw the cigarette outside the door and headed for the stairs. "Your kid's probly never been safer, though." He mumbled under his breath before taking the steps at a slow pace.

Somehow, Carol found herself believing his words.

"Dawn, what's takin so bleedin long?" Spike opened the door to Dawn's room semi-violently. "Makin me traips all through the house."

"Sorry Spike, just packing." The girls were hurrying to find all their scattered books, notebooks, and clothes. They'd been planning something, looks like.

"Yeah, well, hurry with it."

"Spike, you didn't scare Mel's mom or anything, did you?" Dawn looked up at Spike with an eyebrow raised.

"Hell if I know. She wasn't sposed to be here tonight, you know. Can't blame me for bein' suspicious." So, yes. Dawn thought to herself, rolling her eyes.

"Go play nice with her or something. We're going to be another few minutes. If Mel's mom doesn't let her come over anymore, I'm running away to Switzerland."

"No you're not. Switzerland is a dumb place to run away to."

"Spike, please…"

"Fine, bit. But you owe me."

Back downstairs, Carol was standing nervously by the door.

"Sorry bout that, luv. They'll be down in a few. By the way, that's a lovely uh, 'do you've got. Who does your hair for ya?"

Hi there, I'm Kite. Sorry for the short boring-ness. It's part of a bigger thing, or so I've been led to believe. Here on out things should be picking up, if I'm half the writer I pretend to be.

First off, thank you for making it this far. I know this hasn't been my most exciting works, but I feel like it's an important story to write, and one that has been at the least utterly ignored and at the most butchered.

Anyway, if you want to know some of my thoughts, keep reading. Otherwise, just go ahead and skip it.

First off, you'll notice an extreme lack of angst in these chapters. I've found that most post-The Gift episodes are basically the same. It focuses on one character (typically Spike, but it's sometimes a different one) and that single characters grief. No one else in the story is as sad as they are, no one could possibly understand, blah blah blah. No one is very supportive, everyone sucks, everything sucks, and it's angst angst cry cry cut cut etc etc. Does this sometimes reflect true mourning? Sometimes, but not frequently. Mourning and grief are strong and passionate for a little while, but then it becomes more subtle and insidious. More meaningful, really. That's what I hope to capture in these stories. I don't really care if no one reads them. I wasn't even sure if I was going to post them, but maybe there's one or two other people out there who feel the same as me.

Speaking of, about my view on Spike as a big fluffy puppy this last chapter.

I've read a quite few Fanged Four fics, and I find them fascinating. What's most interesting is they portray them all much the same way: Darla is annoying and aloof, Drusilla is an insane 4 year old, Spike is the clueless, sniveling whipping boy, and Angelus is this boring ponce who wants to live all high class and never take any chances, and is constantly beating on Spike for not memorizing demon mythology and languages or not having good manners.

I think this is a ridiculous way to interpret the Fanged Four, and I don't know how it's become so widespread.

From the few flashbacks we get in the two shows, it's abundantly clear that yes, Angelus is in charge, but by no means is he content to just sit in a big mansion and play house. He loves the chaos and the hunt, loves going out into rebellions and natural disasters, etc. He gets pissed at Spike when he takes unnecessary chances and screws up, but we can hardly use one scene of this as his entire characterization, especially after all the other scenes we have of them in the past.

This is where I base my theory that Spike is much like a guard dog.

He was Angelus's friend, in a way. (See "The Girl in Question in AtS). However, there was clearly an imbalance of power, we see that in every flashback and in the way they talk to each other. Much like dog may be man's best friend, but man is in charge and the dog ought to do what it's told. So long as it obeys, it can frolic and chase and do dog things with its human.

Further, when it comes to the Scoobies, Spike is never a true member. After all, no matter how trusted or favored a dog may become, it's never one of the children.

Lastly, Spike understands this to some level and has accepted it. It's a part of who he is, and he knows it. This is also why he couldn't be Buffy's equal in their relationship, which is ultimately why she never loved him the way she'd loved Angel or Riley, who had both been equal to her. Spike was, as she put it "beneath" her. And that's why it hurt so much to hear those words to her.

Because he believed them.