I was in a very depressed mood last night and wrote this at around 3 in the morning. I finished editing it today, so excuse the cliche-ness of it all. I bet it's getting tiresome with the whole depressed dawn bit. I'll move on some day. Anyway, on to the fic.

This is based on after season 6. Buffy and Spike never did it. And it's placed five years in the future, so Dawn's about 21 or so. It'll all make sense once you read it.

Chapter 2

"She's in the other room," Patrick said with a guilt stricken face. "The door is locked and there's no way out."

The opposing man shook his head, deep in thought. Everything seemed to, finally, be in place.

"Are you sure this was all necessary?"

Patrick had never done this before, exactly. And he felt so bad about it. He had purposely misled a beautiful, young, trusting woman into her demise. He felt dirty and sick.

"You'll be getting your money for all the extra troubles," the man enforced.

In his hand was a bundle of bills. It looked to be about ten thousand. Patrick remembered why he did it when he reached for the money. He began to flip through it, as to count it.

"It's all there. Don't worry your bloody little head off," the man harshly spit out.

Patrick shook his head quickly aware of the golden hint of his employer's eyes. He had never worked with a vampire before; never even knew they existed. But when he showed up at his door, yellow eyes and ridges on his forehead, Patrick knew something was up. Said that he either helped him look for this girl, or else he'd rip his "fucking heart out of his chest cavity." That had been a little over three years ago and now he'd finally completed the vampire's wishes. Patrick wasn't even expecting getting paid and was surprised when the demon even suggested it. But he took it greatly.

"Nice doing business with you, Spike," he said and walked out the Motel 6 door.

Spike glided into the room where she was at. It took him by surprise that Patrick even found the Nibblet. She had been gone for years. Everyone had given up hope. The scoobies labeled her as dead. Giles thought she was attacked by demons or vampires. The slayer had notions that she ran away, but thought it was only wishful thinking. But then again, Dawn did have too much of Buffy in her. But Spike... Spike knew that she had run away. He could feel it in his bones that she wasn't dead. The fates wouldn't be that cruel to him. They wouldn't have sent him an angel and then taken her away.

He had been searching for five years. Had been through three private detectives the first year, one the second, and then Patrick through the last three. The vampire hadn't seen her in one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days. Give or take a couple.

He always wondered what went wrong. Whose fault it was. But he was sure it went further than fault. Further than one thing. Had to be little tiny things that swallowed her whole and made her bleed.

Hearing a soft whimper, he looked at her closely. She seemed so defeated. A wan complexion. Dark circles. An alcoholic stench. Bruises and scars. Bones protruding through tired skin.

Her eyes fluttered open and closed before her baby blues finally appeared. Shock came across her face when she made out his figure.

"Spike," she said shakily.

A finger reached out to touch him, to make sure he was real. Feeling contact, she quickly brought her hand back to her body.

"What's going on? What happened?"

Spike sighed, letting the air come into his dead lungs. He expelled it with a desperate smile.

"The man you met at the bar has been working for me for three years. His job was to find you. He was asked to knock you out and return you here."

His voice seemed mechanical and played out. It held no emotion. It would have scared Dawn if she wasn't used to the voice herself. It was the same one she used everyday.

She was quiet for a while. Both were. They said nothing. Spike seemed to be looking right through her. While Dawn was thinking of an escape.

"So you found me. It's been nice seeing you. Let's do this in again, say, ten years? Yeah?" she rambled, while picking up her body.

The bed was stiff to Dawn so it was hard to move. Every fiber of her being hurt. So when she tried to sit up it wasn't that surprising when she was trembling in pain.

"I will not have that happen again, Dawn," he spoke with tight words and a tense muscles.

He softened his face when he realized what he was doing: taking it all out on her. He sat on the bed and positioned himself so her body was beside his. He lay on his side and had his head hoisted up by his arm. With his free hand he began to play with her hair.

"I've been looking for you for what seems an eternity," he murmured. His fingers idly twisted in her hair. "Everyday a part of me broke knowing that you were out there somewhere. Alone. And hurting. Probably doing horrid things or at least seeing them. Wanted to protect you from all that, I did. Guess it didn't matter though, did it?" His voice cracked from the emotion he was drawing up.

She let his words and voice soothe her. It felt good to have him speak. Let him speak. She knew she should be angry. Should yell and fight and scream. Hit him and slap him. For all the things he's caused. That others caused. For the things she now knows. All the things she's had to go through.

But she feels so tired now. So tired. Crashing and burning. Everything in her body seems as if she's shutting down. It took too much energy out of her for being angry for so long. So now she's broken and torn and tattered and used. And old and new and dead. But alive enough not to care.

"Why'd you do it, Dawn? Why'd you run away?" he pleaded. Needed to know an answer.

He wanted to know if he should just stake himself now or get ready to kill someone else.

She arched into the touches he gave her. But said nothing. She knew that if she did, he would find her disgusting and dirty and wrong. And never speak to her again. That was one reason why she went away.

"Doesn't matter," she said with a quiet tone.

"Of course it matters, baby."

He gave her a forlorn smile and started to pet her skin. This caused her to tense her muscles and tightly shut her eyes. Suspicion sunk into his skin like a disease.

"What happened, love?" he asked.

His eyes tried to search for a reason. For an answer. Her silence was slowly killing him. It was like pouring salt on his wound.

"Just had to get away," she answered with a plastic smile.

"From me?" He was scared of the answer.

"Never from you."

She paused idly thinking if she should go on. It became too hard when she mentioned it. Made her hurt inside. Made the pain bottle up into tiny boxes and locked with a key so it could never escape. Sadly, nothing ever left her. It all stayed with her.

"I was, uh, I was-"

"You can tell me, baby. You always can tell me anything," he spoke in a gentle voice. His eyes got a glazed over look. "Always used to," he said inaudibly.

"There was this vampire," she explained to him and tried to shield her eyes from his face. "He found me one night when I was looking for you."

He heard her heartbeat increase. It was pounding loudly inside of her chest. She bit her lip and picked the dead skin that graced the inside edge. Everything on her body was trembling.

He took his thumb and finger and placed it underneath her chin. Brining it up towards his face, he brushed back a strand of hair that went into her watering eyes.

"He beat me down to the ground and tore off my clothes. And then he-"

A lone tear escaped from her eye and rolled down her cheek. When he took the pad of his thumb and wiped it away, she broke. She told him everything. About the pain that she felt. About the way she couldn't look herself in the mirror anymore. About how no soap or water could get her clean. About how she had to hitchhike with scary old men. About the dreams she had. About her childhood dreams shattering. Innocence being torn away from her.

She curled her body into the fetal position and let Spike Comfort her. His strong arms wrapped around her tiny body providing cold solace for his lost angel that had fallen so hard.

"I'm so sorry, love," he said in a subdued voice. Placing a kiss on her forehead, he wrapped the blanket over them.

"Not your fault," she whispered into his chest.

Another silence became between them. He silently stroked her head, but let her sob into his chest. His shirt was now damp all the way through, but it didn't matter. This was for Dawn.

"In the morning you're coming with me."

His words were determined and held no room for argument. But she protested anyway. Her body became stiff and her eyes went wide.

"I can't go back. You can't make me go back. What if he's still there? I can't see him again. I won't. If you make me, I'll hurt myself. Or I'll runaway again. You can't stop me. You can't."

Her face was turning red from her exaggeration. She was already starting to dislocate and distance herself from his arms. But he kept her there, squeezing her in his arms.

"No," he yelled a little too loudly. "We won't go back there. I'll take you to South America. I'll take you where ever you want. But you're coming with me. And we're getting away."

Dawn cuddled her body closer to him and played with the button on his shirt.

"Okay," she agreed with a small smile.

And Spike returned it with a sparkle to his eyes. His fallen angel wasn't so deep anymore. Because he was here now to catch her.