Passions was on when Dawn knocked on Giles’ door. Spike recognized her scent before he even answered, and gave the teen a smile as he swung the door open.

“Hello, Bit,” he greeted, using the door to shield him from the sunlight that streamed in the open doorway.

“How’d you know it was me?” she asked, smiling until she saw his face- still bruised from the beating he’d suffered.

He tapped his nose as he closed the door and ushered her into the living room. “Can sniff your Teen Spirit from here, Bit.”

She blushed. “Sorry, dumb question, huh?”

Spike shrugged, moving to sit on the couch. Dawn sat next to him, placing her book bag on the floor.

“Came here from school, eh?”

Dawn nodded. “Mom told me you were house-sitting for Giles while he’s in England.”

“Yeah, Ol’ Rupert hasn’t kicked me out yet.”

“How are you feeling?”

Spike gave her a fond look for her concern. “Mending.”

“I can’t believe Buffy beat you up like that. I mean, you can’t even defend yourself!”

“Now now, you can’t blame Big Sis. She’s goin’ through a lot, and I haven’t given her much reason to trust me in the past,” he said gently.

Dawn’s face grew earnest. “But you’ve changed! You’ve been helping us. You’ve been helping with patrol, and stuff. And helping me…”

“Still a demon, pet. Nothin’ will change that.”

Dawn looked away, pensive. “I just think she blames you for things you didn’t do.”

“That may be so, but if it is, there’s nothin’ you or I can do about it. Tell me about your mum. How’s she doin’?”

Dawn perked up, smiling. “She’s home! The surgery went great and the doctors say they got all of the tumor.”

He shared her enthusiasm. “That’s wonderful news, Bit. Now we just have to make sure she heals up right.”

Dawn nodded vigorously, and he smiled to himself.

‘No time like the present…’

Spike motioned towards the television. “Was watchin’ that show they have… Operation. Lotsa blood and guts that is. They got cameras in the operatin’ room. Show ya everything.”

Dawn’s nose crinkled. “Eeewww.”

“Hey, bloke’s gotta get his jollies some way. Anyway, they were talkin’ ‘bout risks after certain operations. Blood clots and the like. Your mum’s doc’s gonna put her on blood thinners right?”

“I… I dunno…”

‘Okay, look earnest…’

“Maybe oughtta talk to her about it. Blood clots in the brain are no good. An’ with her comin’ out of the surgery so well, don’t wanna be takin’ any chances, now do we?”

‘There. Plant *that* little bug in her ear.’

Dawn’s eyes grew wide and Spike saw the glimmer of fear in them. “No. We don’t. I’ll talk to her about it, Spike. Thanks.”

He shrugged. “Was just a thought.”

She touched his hand.

“A good thought. See what I mean? You’d never have thought about that before. You never would have even cared if Mom got sick. You have changed.” She edged a little closer, eyes hooded and shy. “I think you’re beginning to like us.”

‘Warning! Warning! Teenage hormone bomb movin’ in for the kill. Gotta head it off at the pass…’

He moved further away on the couch, crossing his legs to make it harder to get closer. “So, Bit, how’s Big Sis?”

The mention of her sister had the desired effect and cooled Dawn’s unwelcome advances.

“She’s okay,” Dawn answered with a shrug. “Riley’s gone though.”

He feigned innocence even though Giles had already told him of Riley’s departure. “Soldier Boy?”

“Yeah. Off to Belize or some place like that. He and Buffy broke up. He had a vamp problem.”

“A vamp problem?”

“Yeah, he was paying vamps to bite him. Made him feel needed.”

“What? Did Big Sis tell you that?”

Dawn shook her head. “Overheard her talking to Willow about it.”

Spike gave her a proud smile. “Becomin’ a veritable little eavesdropper, eh, Nibblet?”

She shrugged. “It’s easy when no one notices you.”

“Oh, I doubt they don’t notice you.”

“Sometimes it feels that way.”

His caring instincts towards the girl overrode his reservations towards allowing her to get too close, and he moved closer..

“Believe me, Bit, you are not the type of girl that goes unnoticed,” he assured, leaning towards her.

She looked at him, her eyes hopeful, preening. “Really? You think so?”

He pulled back, but answered with complete honesty, “Absolutely.”

Her grin was genuine and he had to smile.

“Thanks, Spike. I mean, with Mom’s illness, and this new demon, I think Buffy sees me as a nuisance.”

He reached out and pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. It was something he had been reluctant to do the last time he had lived this time, but months of caring for Dawn in the summer of Buffy’s death and all of the changes he had gone through in that time, gave him a new ease. He knew Dawn was a tactile person, like he was, and that she craved physical contact. He wondered if the need for touch was a ‘Key-thing’ or if it was something the monks hadn’t anticipated.

“You’re never a nuisance, Sweet Bit. You’re the Apple of everyone’s eye. And anyone that doesn’t think you’re wonderful is a bloody pillock.”

She giggled at his words and smiled.

“Thanks, Spike.”

He sat back and patted his thigh. “So, what they teachin’ you in school these days?”

Dawn retrieved her book bag and pulled it to her lap. “I have a test on World War I in history on Friday.”

“World War I, eh? You do know who really started that war, right?”

“The Austrians who wanted revenge for the murder of Arch Duke Ferdinand, and Germany gave them the Blank Check to do what they wanted and sent troops.”

Spike shook his head vigorously. “No, that’s not what happened, Bit. Yeah, the Duke got killed and the Austrians were madder than Hell. And since Germany and Austria are practically the same country as far as the Royal Family goes Old Kaiser William felt obligated to lend a hand. No, Bit, if you read between the lines, you’ll learn that France was the one that pushed for the declaration of War against Germany.”

Dawn’s brow creased. “Well, yeah, coz Yugoslavia was afraid Germany would attack them.”

“Bollocks,” he argued, pointing a finger at her. “You mark my words, it was the French that started World War I, not the Germans. If the French had kept their noses out of it, Austria would’ve gotten revenge for Ferdinand’s murder and that would have been it.”

She pulled out her history text book. “That’s not what my book says.”

“Sod the book. Don’t they tell you that history is written by the victors? Of course they wouldn’t tell you the truth. Believe me, Bit. Take it from someone who was there. It was the French.”

She laughed. “If you say so.”

“Oh, I say so. In fact, if you look at history, the French are responsible for a whole lot of evil things that they never got called on.”

She was smiling, her eyes dancing with mirth. She knew he was playing with her and loved it.

‘No one ever gives this poor girl anything but grief.’

“Oh really?” she said teasingly.

“Hell yeah. I mean, French fashion is the worst, and the food! They eat *snails* for god sakes, and *frogs legs!* They have absolutely no concept of real food. Pate and crepes… disgusting. Give me a juicy London sausage or leg of mutton any day.”

Dawn laughed outright, her joy filling the room. He pressed on, grinning at her.

“And café au lait, and croissants, and frillin’ champagne! Wine with *bubbles*, a true sign of a weak mind, I tell you.”

She was laughing so hard that tears were leaking from her eyes and she was gasping for breath.

“And their dogs! Useless mongrels they are. Bichons and bloody French *poodles!* Bloody poofters the lot of ‘em!”

“Stop! Stop!” Dawn cried through breathless gasps. “You’re killin’ me!”

Spike chuckled, smiled. “Oh, pet, if I was killin’ you, you’d know it.”

“You always make me laugh, Spike.”

“It’s good to see a smile on your face, Bit. Can’t stand to see a Summers woman frown. And speakin’ of frownin’, your mum know you’re here?”

Dawn looked guilty and he scowled at her.

“Now, Bit, we can’t be havin’ her worried about you. She’ll send Big Sis and things’ll get ugly. You use that phone over there and call her, ‘fore Buffy comes blazin’ in here with stakes drawn.”

“Okay.”

She unfolded herself from the couch and did as he asked. A few moments later she came back.

“Mom needs me home, so I have to go. She was glad I called. She was getting worried, but when I said I was over here with you, she was cool. She told me to tell you to come over sometime.”

“I’d like that. Tell ‘er I’ll be by.”

“I will,” she promised, shouldering her book bag and heading for the door.

“Bye Spike. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Bye, Bit. I’ll be seein’ you.”

She gave him a final fond glance and headed out, closing the door quietly behind her. After she was gone, he tried to re-focus on watching TV, but found that he missed her. There had been a time when it had been normal for him to be with her in this setting. He had many memories of sitting in the Summers’ living room, watching TV while Dawn did her homework.

There were quiet evenings spent together, both together and separate in their loss and grief. Sometimes they would talk or play cards. He’d taught her to play poker. Dawn had an amazing poker face, and she’d made him proud with her bluffing skills. Sometimes he would help her with her homework, telling her about his recollection of history and his classic English training. Oh how William would come out to play on those nights. Only Dawn ever saw, of course, but he would read poetry and recite Shakespeare and make her laugh with his antics. It seemed that he was the only one who could get a smile out of her in those early days.

Then there were the times when the loss got too much, and she would crawl into his arms and he would hold her. Her head would rest against his chest, her hair tickling his chin, and he would lose himself in her scent and heartbeat. Two orphans, they were, clinging to each other in a world that had brought them so much pain and so little understanding.

Buffy’s friends had discouraged Dawn after a while, thinking it unhealthy for her to be so attached to him, to a soulless vampire, and their times together became more and more infrequent. Relegated to the outside again, like a dog that was supposed to be mean but only wanted to be loved, he hung on the fringes, looking in, missing his brief moments of acceptance.

‘Moments of splendor in the grass…’ he thought, wincing at the way the verse came back with such ease. William might have been dead for over 120 years, but his essence lived on in Spike, and now his soul was known to spout poetry at odd moments.

He was kicked to curb completely, of course, after said friends ripped Buffy out of Heaven. No longer needed, he was all but abandoned, tossed away like so much garbage. The undead, evil thing who was incapable of feeling, whose broken heart could only find solace at the bottom of a bottle. He hardly ever saw Dawn then, and after the stint with the singing demon, Buffy had nothing but anger for him. It wasn’t his fault he spoke the truth, but she didn’t see it that way. Then again, Buffy’s primary defense mechanism was denial.

Even after she had begun their torrid affair, she had denied everything between them. She denied her feelings for him and completely disregarded his feelings for her. Coming to him, hating him, hating herself and using him, she never once allowed herself to think that what they had could be something more, something wonderful.

She’d never let him be gentle. Sex between them had always been violent and raw, except for the one time, the time right before Soldier Boy returned as the triumphant hero and blew everything to Hell. That had been the only time they had even come close to the lovemaking he had wanted to share with her. If only she had let him…

‘Ah, don’t go there. That way lies madness. Or more of it than there already is,’ he chastised himself.

Turning off the TV, he rose to his feet.

‘This Nibblet will never love you as the only thing that kept her safe and sane. She will never look at you with eyes that reflect your own pain and understand it. She will never hang on your every word and trust you with her life,’ he thought, resigned. ‘But this Dawn will also never lose her mother or see her sister sacrifice herself for her. She will never know grief or pain or terror, because I will stop it. Joyce will not die and Buffy will not jump to her death to save her sister, and no one but Giles will ever be the wiser that it had ever been any different. And no one will know what I sacrificed to make it all possible.’

He sighed and looked at the clock.

‘Olaf’ll be makin’ his appearance soon. Best get ready.’

He forced one foot in front of the other until he got to the bathroom.

‘Wash your face, comb your hair. Don’t think about anything beyond that.’

Part of him wished for a Polaroid camera so he could see how bad the bruises on his face were. It had been a week, and the swelling and most of the soreness was gone. Still, Dawn had winced when she saw him, so there must be some discoloration left.

‘Naught to be done for it.’

He sniffed his shirt to make sure it smelled okay and splashed some water on his face. Then he combed back his hair and walked to the living room to put on his coat. His duster was his shield against the world and he donned it like his armor, protecting him from harm. He stood a little taller, his shoulders a little straighter, his heart a little braver.

‘Once more unto the brink.’

He opened the door and walked out into the night.


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