The Nature Of Love - XX

'Doubt is the brother of shame' - Unknown

The Early Bird Motel

Sleep had successfully evaded her since the moment she had come to look upon with sickened regret. Spike slumbered at her side, ensnared by a tangle of cotton sheets, and yet such peace had alluded Dawn for many hours now. She stared up at the ceiling and attempted to stem the flow of her thoughts by counting the yellowed tiles above. She found that she became confused often and subsequently gave up after around her fifty-seventh attempt.

Dawn glanced to her side and a smile passed fleetingly across her lips. Her heart thudded a little faster in her chest as her eyes swept Spike's athletic body in appreciation. She knew that she cared deeply for the vampire and did not regret the transcendence of their relationship, but Dawn could not shake the feeling that she had acted wrongly in some way. Giles' words echoed in her mind, his insults and the reason he had attempted to press upon her spiralling somewhat out of control. She shook her head as though this small gesture may help her troubled conscience and squeezed her eyes tight shut.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Dawn demanded of herself in a harsh whisper. She pushed herself up on her elbows and sighed, beginning to kick the sheets away from her body in order to rise from the bed. She tiptoed towards the pile of her underwear, wincing as she registered the Snoopy pattern that adorned her bra and pants.

"How mature of me," she muttered, collecting the rest of her clothes from around the room and beginning to dress in the darkness.

She had padded half way to the door on only the balls of her feet when a voice disturbed the quiet. Immediately, Dawn relaxed and turned back to face the bed where Spike languished. She pushed her hands through the tangles in her hair self consciously, wishing furtively that she had at least glanced in a mirror before he had next laid eyes upon her. She was sure that her mascara and lip gloss must be smeared across her cheeks, and her hair felt as though it had risen to a rather alarming volume.

"Where are you off, love?" Spike inquired, stifling a yawn and stretching his arms above his head. Dawn simply shrugged, unsure of her own motives and therefore lacking any real answers.

"I don't know," she admitted when the silence became too much to bear. "For a walk, I guess."

Spike nodded, pursing his lips and running his tongue across the surface of his teeth. Slowly, he reached onto the nightstand and slid a cigarette from the half empty packet. He had barely begun to contemplate retrieving his lighter when Dawn interrupted.

"Those things will kill you, ya know," she blurted in a thoughtless rush. She had begun to blush before her sentence was even complete, realising how ridiculous her claim would be considered. Spike raised an eyebrow.

"Well, maybe not you," Dawn mumbled, glancing at the carpet, "but me at least."

Spike slid the cigarette back into the packet respectfully and proceeded to fold his arms across his chest as he regarded her.

"So, come on then, let me have it," Spike finally demanded, the angry edge to his voice startling Dawn into meeting his gaze once again.

"Have what?" she murmured, almost stumbling over her words as Spike's eyes narrowed. She wrapped her arms around herself and shifted her weight nervously from one foot to the other. Everything about her stance seemed artificial and forced, something of which she was acutely aware.

"The regrets," Spike answered tartly, "the 'I'm sorry's' and 'I made a mistake's', the 'let's just be mates'… and all that jazz."

He snorted derisively as he reached for the abandoned cigarette once again and this time made a show of lighting it. He took a long drag and blew a furl of smoke rather pointedly in Dawn's direction. After a few seconds of attempting to suppress it, Dawn coughed.

"I'm not sorry," Dawn squeaked after a moment of recovery. She cleared her throat as Spike chuckled and shot her an unconvinced look.

"I'm not," she repeated with new authority resonating in her voice. "I love you Spike. Or at least, right now I think I do. I just can't shake the feeling that this is wrong."

"Because of Buffy or bloody stuffy Giles?" Spike thundered, his voice rising an octave. He stubbed the cigarette out angrily on the wall above the bed and flicked the spent butt towards the garbage can. It missed by a clear metre.

"No," Dawn replied, moving a few paces closer to the bed , her features frozen in earnest. "No, not because I'm afraid of what they may say or even what they may do. I swear it. I don't care what they think."

Spike paused and slowly his face softened as he peered back at Dawn.

"Well good," he sniffed, adjusting the sheets around his body in a bid to avoid looking at Dawn any longer than was quite necessary, "because I don't either."

He had seemed to struggle with the revelation but Dawn smiled still, touched even more by his embarrassment.

"Then… then what is it, Dawnie?" Spike demanded, his eyes suddenly pleading for her honesty. Spike was an ancient creature who had witnessed many stages of life and the world. He had watched with unwavering interest the rise and fall of kings and empires, and had been among the very first to learn of every new invention of man that was dotted along the timeline of his existence. In his life, Spike had been considered a scholar; an educated man whose own potential greatness was inhibited by his reticent character and an overbearing matriarch. More of his human qualities had remained with Spike than he cared to admit and so more than anything he loathed to be denied knowledge.

"I just…" Dawn paused, wringing her hands as she faltered and her gaze desperately swept the room for salvation in any form. Finally realising she would find none, Dawn continued in a small voice. "I just don't think I'm ready."

Spike sat in stunned silence as Dawn mentally berated herself for her explanation, which had sounded lame even to her own ears.

"I don't think I'm ready for… well, sex," Dawn added, rubbing her neck vigorously if only to keep her throat from closing up in fear.

"You seemed pretty… ready three hours ago," Spike tried, his lips curving into an infinitesimally more relaxed smile.

Dawn's cheeks coloured an unbecoming shade of scarlet and Spike laughed as she moved to join him once more on the bed. She swatted playfully at him as she neared, only succeeding in cultivating Spike's amusement further.

"You're not mad?" she inquired, reclining across the mattress and curling her knees into her stomach. She rested her head in Spike's lap and smiled up at him as he began toying with a strand of her hair. He shook his head quickly.

"I'm not going to force anything on you that you aren't ready for, Dawn," Spike said, adding softly and with a note or remorse, "you don't do that to the one you love."

The quiet that descended was comfortable and, for minutes, the lovers continued to enjoy it. Dawn spoke first, realising that the issue may not have been entirely resolved.

"This… this can't happen again, Spike. Not for a while," Dawn stated, her gaze probing his. Spike touched the peak of Dawn's cheekbone with his cold fingers and tenderly traced the pattern of a heart on her skin. She did not miss the gesture, and smiled in a response that creased her eyes at the corners. She had never in her life experienced such a wealth of happiness and fear coexisting within the same moment. This, she presumed, was the nature of love.

"When you're ready," Spike admonished, "I'll be waiting."

"Then we can take things…" Dawn began, sitting up and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Spike pressed his index finger into the indent of Dawn's lips, marvelling at how well it fit there as though the two were created for each other.

"As slowly as you need," he finished, his anger replaced now with a warmth that Dawn had scarcely known Spike capable of.

"Thank you," she whispered, her eyes inexplicably beginning to tear. She swiped at the salty beads with balled fists, furious with her second display of weakness of the day. Spike allowed her some privacy in order to collect herself whilst he set about locating his clothing. By the time he had pulled his leather pants on and begun fastening his shirt, Dawn sat on the edge of the bed, her face once more a mask of serenity.

"What now then?" Spike said, ruffling his own hair with his fingers. Dawn had given little thought to the many annoying restrictions of vampirism, but she realised now that attempting to perfect one's appearance without a reflection most definitely must be one of them. She briefly entertained the thought of how she would pluck her eyebrows without the use of her trusty compact mirror, but abandoned the issue when it grew too troubling to contemplate any longer.

"I guess we just sit tight and wait for orders," Dawn said with a shrug, clasping Spike's hand as he knelt on the floor before her. His eyes seemed to bore into her own and with the scrutiny Dawn grew uncomfortable.

"Dawn," he murmured huskily, "I don't want there to be any 'we' about it, love."

Dawn blinked in confusion, attempting to wrench her hands from Spike's grip but finding her struggle futile. He held onto her, his icy fingers applying as little pressure to her skin as it took to do so.

"I want you to go to Rome," Spike continued, hanging his head as a wounded expression crossed Dawn's face, "I won't lead you into Hell, love… not knowing whether I have the strength to bring you back out again."

"That's not your choice to make," Dawn insisted, "I won't let you go alone. I can't lose you now when I've only just really found you. I won't…"

Spike silenced her tirade with a kiss, pressing his lips against her own and moving his palm to caress the nape of her neck. Dawn returned his passion, her eyes closed and her protests catching in her throat. They broke apart gasping somewhat after a minute, and Dawn regarded Spike with her chin raised defiantly.

"No," she said simply, as if believing the lone syllable held the power to end their argument. Spike could not allow such ambitious thinking.

"Please, Dawn," he breathed, his voice trembling uncontrollable and his face paused mere inches from her own. Spike's eyes shone, iridescent with unshed tears and the presence of a soul that had finally discovered it's home. Dawn swallowed hard and tasted bitter defeat with a scowl.

"Ok."

Spike kissed her once more, hungry but restrained enough to respect her wishes. Dawn faded into his embrace, resting her ear against Spike's chest and wondering momentarily what it would mean to hear a heartbeat echoing within the hollow cavity.

"I'll go to Rome," Dawn said, raising her head and glaring at Spike with blazing eyes, "but I'll be waiting."

"I'll be counting on it," Spike replied, grinning.

Dawn climbed to her feet and, with a departing smile that was still not entirely devoid of anger, pushed open the door of the motel room. Spike watched her leave with a sinking heart, knowing that the moment they had just experienced together held the potential to be their last. Still, he found himself unable and unwilling to indulge in selfishness and call Dawn to return. He smiled wryly. He could not risk something so precious to the finality of Hell. That was the nature of love.