Four people weilding crossbows met them in the Hyperion lobby. Two of them Buffy didn't know, one seemed vaguely familiar but she couldn't place him. And then there was Cordelia, with a big sneer on, at the head of the phalanx.


"Well, I guess it's what I'd do in your place," she said. "Hello Cordy."


"I told Angel he shouldn't bring you here."


"Right. Well, see how he listens? Where's Dawn? Dawn!"


Her voice echoed around the wide marble space. There was no answer, but somewhere in the distance, through a couple of closed doors, Buffy thought she heard a baby crying.


"He can't come in here."


The man she couldn't place gestured towards Spike with his bow. She got it now: her failed watcher, Wesley. He looked different, but it was the same accent.


"Spike goes where I go. We're not here to make mischief."


At her side, Spike chuckled. "Speak for yerself, Slayer."


"Shut up. I don't want trouble. Dawn!"


"I still don't get why we're not slaying these two. Slayer turned vamp? That's supposed to be bad, right?" The speaker this time was a tall, shaven-headed black guy, still pointing his arrow at her heart.


"I get it," Buffy said. "I do. But since you're working with Angel in the first place, I figure you've got to understand the concept of exceptions to the rule. DAWN!" She wasn't sure by now but that she wouldn't wring her sister's neck after all. Dragging them into Angel's sphere: how was that really any better than just telling Willow and Giles what had happened?


"I'm here."


Buffy looked up. Dawn's voice—wobbly and soft—came from above. She leaned over the balcony two floors up, her hair dangling, looking sheepish.


"You're not afraid of me, are you?" This wasn't exactly what she meant to start off with.


Spike administered a little kick to her ankle. "'Lo, Bit. Nothin' to be scared of. C'mon down and say hello to your sister."


"Maybe I'll get caught in the cross-fire," Dawn said. It was only then that Angel nodded at this troops, and the bows went down. Not that that did much to relax the atmosphere. Buffy gave herself a moment, as Dawn made a rather stately procession down the stairs, to wish she'd ignored her urges towards her sister, towards her calling, and just stayed put with Spike in Mexico. Let him go on doing all the driving. Have herself a little honeymoon, a little fun, a little time to just not care about much of anything except getting Spike to give her that sated, sleepy smile of his.


She didn't know him well enough yet. And suddenly she understood that if something bad, something stupid happened to him here, she'd never forgive herself for it.


"Look, I'm sorry," Dawn said, pausing six steps up. "I didn't know what to do. I was ... I tried to think what you'd want me to do. If you were still ... you."


"I am still me." A flash of rage passed through her, like an electric shock; Buffy wasn't sure if she wanted to hug her sister or smack her.


"I know. I know, I just—I'm sorry."


"Nothin' to be sorry for," Spike said.


Dawn was looking towards Angel now. "I'm really sorry."


His face was granite. "We've been over this already. I told you it's okay."


He'd always been like that with Dawn. Sort of formal and rigid, like she was the only child he'd ever seen. Except that in reality he'd never known Dawn at all, and how Buffy remembered him with her wasn't real. And he was like that because in his reality, children like Dawn were for raping and draining.


Buffy realized that while she'd known that about Angel for a long long time, she hadn't really known it, not like she did now. From her new perspective. The idea was still disgusting, but in an altered way. No time to pull that apart now, but she promised herself to ponder it later.


Dawn came to her then, her shoulders hunched, face pale and misery-stricken. Buffy attributed it to her sheepishness over involving Angel, until Dawn put a hand up and touched her cheek. Feeling the coolness of her skin, Dawn's eyes filled, and she snatched her hand down. Only then did Buffy recognize that in her sister's eyes she was dead, and this was a disaster. She sobbed, starting to crumple, and it was just like when their mother died.


Only this time Spike stepped forward and caught her into his arms. "All right Niblet, all right. It's not so bad as all that."


"Oh Spike!" Dawn wailed. Buffy got a kick of surprise, seeing how comfortable Dawn was with him, how she welcomed his touch, clinging to him. She hadn't quite understood before, how close Dawn had become to him, while she was gone.


The others didn't like it either—Angel stepped forward, looming beside them, clearly wanting to snatch Dawn clear. Cordy re-hefted her crossbow.


From the support of Spike's encircling arm, Dawn turned back to her. "Buffy. Buffy, I didn't—I—" She detached herself from him, lurching like a baby taking its first steps, and launched herself into her arms. "Buffy I'm so sorry!"


This time it wasn't an apology but a cry of sympathy and woe. Buffy pulled her close. Dawn's aroma filled her senses; her form throbbed, pumping out heat. The proximity of all that hot live blood made the cartilage itch under Buffy's skin; she felt the urge to fang out like the old urge to sneeze, and had to repress it hard.


"Dawn, it's okay."


"Is it? How can it be? What are we going to do now?"


"Yeah," Angel said. "What are you planning to do?" There was an undertone, if I let you, that made Buffy long to snarl at him.


"Is there somewhere I can talk to my sister alone?"


"You don't really think we're going to leave her alone with you?" Cordelia said.


Buffy ignored her. "Angel?"


When she met his eyes, they flashed gold, just for a split-second, promise of a future challenge. But he stepped back. "Go into the office. There." He pointed behind the hotel desk. "We'll be right out here."


"Fine. ... Thanks. Dawn, is it okay if Spike joins us?"


The question surprised everyone, for different reasons. Angel's people looked like someone had belched and farted at the same time.


Dawn actually laughed. "I think I kind of insist on it, actually."


Buffy was aware not just of passing into the other room but of marching through a crowd—amazing how five people could make a crowd—like a militant. It was a feeling she was pretty used to, actually, and it kind of bucked her up. Spike shut the door, and then there they were, the three of them, gathered around a desk with some papers and files and a computer on it. Spike folded his arms and leaned against the wall, his stance saying he knew he wasn't leading this meeting. Dawn, after her little up-burst of confidence, was small again.


"First of all," Buffy said, "I am SO glad to see you."


"Me too. When you disappeared, I ... I didn't know what to think. I was afraid and I didn't know what to be afraid of, and then Spike was gone too and—"


"I should've contacted you sooner. But it was complicated. There was ... a transition period."


Dawn stared at her. "Are you okay?"


"I am now."


"God, it's ..."


"It's weird, I know. You have to understand, it wasn't anything I wanted to happen. It just ... happened. Spike found me, not in time to save my life, but to—"


"Kept your sis from goin' off the way I knew she wouldn't wish to go. When she had her strength of mind back. Which she does, good as ever."


Dawn glanced between them, and a little smile formed on her lips. "I can't believe you two are—"


"I sort of can't either," Buffy said. A laugh burst from her, embarrassing for a second, but Spike didn't take it wrong, he smiled too.


And then the atmosphere amongst them was easier somehow. Dawn was still fraught, but she began to talk more easily. Wanting to go home. Wanting things to just go back to normal.


Buffy explained to her how that wasn't possible, and Spike backed it up, until Dawn finally fell silent, her arguments exhausted. "I want to stay with you. We can't be separated, Buffy!"


"I don't want that. But for a little while, I think it's best. I want you to call Aunt Arlene, and ask her to take you in. Of course she will."


"Aunt Arlene lives in Illinois."


"I know. You'll go there, you'll finish high school, and go to college. Spike and I will keep tabs on you. But I can't live with you, it's too dangerous. Once you're of age, and you're on your way to taking care of yourself, then we can talk about how to be in closer touch."


"I barely know Aunt Arlene! I haven't seen her since—I've never seen her, really have I?"


"Uh ... I guess not. But she doesn't know that."


"What am I supposed to tell her about you?"


"Tell her I've disappeared. I'm not officially dead, and I never officially came back, so you can say I disappeared last spring, you've been staying with some friends of mine, maybe hoping Dad would show up for you, but now you need your family. After a while you can get me declared dead, and then you'll be able to sell the house and keep the proceeds. I know it feels awful, but you'll be eighteen before you know it, and then you'll be freer."


"And where will you be while I'm in Evanston? Can't you come with me?"


"We'll see you as often as possible. But we'll have to keep moving, and keep a low profile, especially where you're concerned." She glanced at Spike, who nodded his agreement. "You know we can't let Willow and the others find out what happened to me—they wouldn't just let it go."


"I'm so stupid. Angel will—Cordelia—"


"There's no love lost twixt Cordelia and that Sunnydale lot," Spike said. "She hates vampires, but she won't tell, not if Angel doesn't like it."


Buffy nodded. "You didn't do too badly, coming here. I think we can trust Angel. That far, anyway." Talking this out, making arrangements, filled her with sadness—for Dawn, who should have had enough upheaval, and for herself, because somehow she felt better now she was an undead homeless fugitive than she had before at home amongst her friends. "And Aunt Arlene will be good to you. She was always bummed that Mom moved out to California and that we didn't visit more. She'll probably be thrilled to have you. I know this sucks, but I know you'll be okay. You're strong and smart and you're so close to being all grown up."


Dawn nodded, and then her eyes filled with tears. "I'm not. I'm really not."


This time when she took her in her arms, Buffy didn't feel that physical urging. Just compassion for Dawn, and the beginning of hope that maybe they'd manage to pull this off. Dawn sniffed and drew back, plucking tissues from the box on the desk. "I'm not going to be a big whiny baby about this, I promise. I just ... have to get used to it."


"We all do."


"What's going to happen to you?"


Buffy glanced at Spike again. "I don't know yet. I mean—who ever knows what's going to happen?"