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The sky is deep, the sky is dark,
The light of stars is so damn stark.
When I look up, I fill with fear.
If all we have is what lies here,
this lonely world, this troubled place,
the cold dead stars and empty space...
Well, I see no reason to persevere,
no reason to laugh or shed a tear,
no reason to sleep or ever to wake,
no promises to keep, and none to make.
And so at night I still raise my eyes
to study the clear but mysterious skies--
that arch above us, as cold as stone.
Are you there, God? Are we alone?

--The Book of Counted Sorrows


I ♥ my Beta! Lots and lots and LOTS of ♥ ♥ ♥

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‘Why is there a stranger in my room?’

Spike sat there, stunned, her lifeless voice ringing around and around inside his head.

‘Why is there a stranger in my room?’

She didn’t know him? She lost her memory?

He heard of such things happening in cases of extreme shock or grief; how the human mind deals with pain in various and sometimes mystifying, ways. How sometimes when one witnessed horrific atrocities, they would mysteriously go blind. Dru told him once, in one of her more lucid moments, that she went deaf when Angelus was torturing her family; their agonized shrieks too much for her to bear. It was the last time she ever prayed.

‘Is that what is wrong with you, Bit? Did your mind finally break?’

Swallowing the knot that formed in his throat, his voice was rough, as cracked as his lips as he spoke to the girl in his arms, “Platelet?” his eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of recognition as he blinked away frightened tears. “Dawn, you don’t remember who I am?”

Shrugging his hands off of her, her eyes remained dim even as her voice quavered a bit.

“You kind of look familiar, but I don’t know…”

Panic began to creep in and all he could think about was how Dru must have experienced something like this as she slipped quietly into desolation, before insanity took root.

“You look like this guy that broke a promise he made to my sister.”

Spike recoiled as if she had suddenly spat holy water at him; her words doing more damage than if she had physically struck him, hitting deeper, like a fist to his heart.

He stood there, shocked into silence as guilt washed over him anew and when she laid back down turning her back to him as she curled up in on herself, he coughed; tears clogging his throat and threatening to drown as his vocal chords seized, rendering him almost mute.

“Bit… Dawn…” he croaked, his throat feeling paralyzed.

“Just go away Spike. Just leave me the fuck alone.”

Her use of the f-word stunned him into silence once more. It wasn’t so much that she said it, but it was more of how she said it; her voice still so flat and unemotional, in spite of the emphasis it was used for.

He took a deep breath—and then another, surprised at the trembling that seemed to have taken hold of his body and he curled his hands into impotent fists, trying to stem their shaking as he walked on wobbly legs towards her bedroom window. Staring out into the darkness, he took a minute to collect himself as his guilt threatened to overwhelm him.

“You know, that kind of language doesn’t affect me one bit Platelet. Guess you forgot about that too, eh?” he spoke quietly, turning to look at the back she presented him with. “Dawn—what are you doing…”

”What does it look like I’m doing you idiot vampire? I’m trying to lie down and…”

Stepping forward, he strode to the bed crossly, leaning down and grabbing her by her arms and forcing her to sit upright as he kneeled in front of her. Her words, though meant to be caustic weren’t what set him off. The apathy in which they were spoken, that was what incensed him.

“No Dawn! What are you doing here? Do you think this is the answer, lying there and pretending the world around you doesn’t exist? You think starving yourself and ignoring everyone will make everything all better? This isn’t what Buffy would have wanted…”

And with that, the skinny girl in his arms took fire, stormy blue eyes blazing to life in her rage as she planted her heels against his stomach and shoved him backwards with such force he saw stars as his head cracked against the desk behind him.

“I don’t care! I don’t care. I don’t care. I. DON’T. CARE! I don’t care what you think! I don’t care what Buffy would have wanted. Buffy isn’t here! She doesn’t care either anymore about what I do or what I don’t do. She’s dead Spike! Buffy is dead!”

Furious tears spilled down her cheeks as she stood there, her chest heaving while she screamed at him and he climbed to his feet, closing the distance between them as he tried to take her in his arms but Dawn was having none of it and yanked her arms out of his grasp, pushing him away with her fists against his chest.

“Just get out Spike. Get out! I didn’t ask for you to come in here and gives me any speeches about what I’m doing wrong or about what Buffy would have wanted. I know you don’t want to be here anyway so just leave me alone!”

“Don’t want to be here?!? I’m standing right bleedin’ here Bit! Are you daft?” he yelled at the defiant girl before him. “You think I don’t care about you or what happens to you!?! You’re off your nut!”

“Yeah. I see how much you care! Eight days! It’s been eight days since I’ve seen you Spike! You took off after the funeral and I’ve not seen you for eight days! That might not seem like such a long time to you, but I’ve had eight days in here by myself doing nothing but thinking and wishing you were here because you’re the only one that knows, Spike… you’re the only one that understands—and then you disappeared and it might as well have been eight years because that’s what it felt like! Every single day took forever to pass and every single day it was still me here alone without my best friend!”

Every single word spoken was knife sharp, adding razor-thin cuts on his already hemorrhaging heart and he felt like a prize arse for forgetting that he wasn’t the only one that loved Buffy with everything in him.

“I-I’m sorry Nibblet…”

Wrapping one hand around her stomach, she held up the other one, stopping his words as she interrupted him, her voice breaking in her sorrow, “Don’t! Just don’t. Don’t stand there and tell me you’re sorry you-you jerk!” She wavered, bending forward as if she had stomach pains, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You left me alone Spike. You abandoned me just like Buffy did.” And he shot forward, taking her in his arms when her legs suddenly gave out, cushioning her body with his own as they dropped to the floor with Spike landing on hard on his butt, cradling Dawn in his lap as they clung to each other, sobbing their hearts out.

One minute turned into two and two minutes turned into five and five turned into ten; the silence of the house outside her room all the more potent as the air in Dawn’s bedroom grew thick and heavy with their anguish.

“I’m so sorry Bit. M’ a right selfish brute. I didn’t think—I just… I can’t explain it so that it makes sense—I just couldn’t be here. Her jacket is still hanging up there by the door and her keys on that little table… I kept expecting her to walk into the room. I would forget—for just a minute—and I would expect her to be in the other room and every time it was like a bloody stake to my chest. Pictures, everywhere… all over the place and—I can still smell her. She is everywhere in this house but she’s not coming back and for those first coupla nights, I watched you falling apart and I couldn’t stop it and I knew it was all my fault—and now… Look at you. You-you’re wasting away; just skin and bones, hiding out in your room and not talking, ‘cept for when you’re using language that you know you bloody well shouldn’t—but have every right to—Pet, you have every right to curse my sodding name. I didn’t know. I thought being here around you was only reminding you—that I was making it worse—I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, Luv. I’m so, so sorry.”

Together they rocked, back and forth and back and forth, unable to do anything else as they cried; their words coming out stilted and shaky, breathless with their weeping.

“It hurts Spike. It hurts so much.”

“I know Bit, I know. I’d give anything to be able to give your sister back to you Luv. I’m sorry I failed you. I’m sorry I failed her. I’m sorry.”

“It hurts Spike. It just—hurts. It-it feels like there’s something crushing my chest and I can’t breathe and it just won’t stop hurting and then you left me and I hurt even more. How can I hurt so much without dying Spike? How?”

She was killing him. Her agony was ripping him to shreds and he was powerless to stop it. He felt even more helpless in this moment than he did when that geezer demon threw him off that tower and knowing that he only added to her hurt instead of easing it only made him feel that much worse.

“I’m so sorry. Dawn—please… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you all alone. I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know…” By this time, both throats were sore from the constant swallowing and hysterical yelling through tears and they increasingly spoke quieter and quieter, hiccupping between whispers.

“Just don’t do it anymore you idiot. I can’t do this without you Spike. I need you.”

“No more—no more Bit, I promise… I swear to you, I won’t leave you alone anymore. Buffy didn’t abandon you Pet. She didn’t. It’s my fault she’s gone—mine. I failed here—me not your sister.”

Gradually, their hysterical rocking slowed with their tears before finally stopping altogether; the unlikely pair just sitting quietly with Dawn still nestled trustingly in the lap of one of history’s most feared vampires while Spike absentmindedly rubbed soothing circles against the small of her back.

Dawn lifted her head from the crook of his shoulder, just high enough to look him in the eye before she spoke again, her voice still just barely above a whisper.

“Look at us Spike. Neither one of us are keeping our promises to Buffy.”

“Yeah, we’re quite the pair, aren’t we Ducks? And when did you decide to expand your vocabulary?”

One side of her mouth pulled up in the smallest of smiles as she hmph’ed softly. “I thought you said it doesn’t bother you?”

“That kind of talk from one of the blokes at Willy’s a regular thing but not something for you to dirty your mouth with. I don’t like hearing it from you, even if you do have every right…”

She stopped his flow of words with gentle fingers against his lips, interrupting quietly, “I don’t curse your name Spike. I don’t want to curse you at all and I’m sorry that I did. I just—I don’t know—hurt.”

“I know Pet. I can’t say I’m sorry enough.” When she began to sniff again, he jostled her a bit in his arms, forcing a lighter note in his voice as he spoke again. “Now, let’s get your skinny arse up and about…”

“Hey! I’m not the only one that looks like a candidate for a twelve-step program,” she interrupted indignantly, her snuffling forgotten.

Smiling gently as the girl in his arms, Spike hugged her quickly before loosening his embrace.

“How ‘bout I make you a deal then Luv. You go jump in the bath and I’ll go downstairs and see what I can rustle us up for dinner?”

Nodding quietly, she pushed upwards to her feet before leaning down and offering her hand to the blonde vampire, helping to pull him upright.

“Maybe tomorrow I can come by and we can go out to that little café with the tables outside—get some of that fresh air we’ve been missing out on?”

“I’d like that.” And she smiled up at him, this time both sides of her mouth pulling up in a genuine facsimile of a grin and he found himself smiling back for a moment before he turned towards the door, her voice halting his steps.

“Spike? Can we make it like a regular thing—us having dinner—like maybe once or twice a week or something? I-I’ve missed you so much and I’ve tried to be strong but I can’t do it… I’m so lonely Spike. First it was Mom and now Buffy a-and I miss you. I can’t lose you too.”

The need in her voice cracked his chest wide open and he reached out, hauling her to him in the fiercest of hugs, stroking her hair as he whispered forcefully against her temple. “You will never lose me Bit, no matter what. I swear on your sister’s grave, I will never leave you. I’d dust first.”

Taking her face into his hands, he kissed her on the forehead softly, feeling the tears rising in him once more. ‘With as much salt as I just emptied, you’d think I’d be dry as a bone now.’ Leaning back, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture bittersweet for him as he had watched Buffy do the same thing so many times before.

“’Kay now Pet. Go take your bath and meet me downstairs after.”

“Okay.”

Brushing his knuckles across her cheek, he let go, moving purposefully towards the door and stepping through, closing it quickly behind him, afraid that he would break down in tears yet again. Leaning back against the door, he takes a deep breath, the knob still in his hand when her voice calls out once more.

“Spike?”

Trembling lips flatten into a determined line as he cleared his throat, swallowing hard before attempting to answer her, “Yeah Luv?”

“Can you stay the night tonight—please?”

Squeezing his eyes shut against the threatening tears, a single one escapes, sliding down a gaunt cheek and he continues to try to swallow against the rising knot in his throat. “Yeah—all right. Go take your shower now, Bit.”

He stood at the door listening for a moment, waiting to see if she was going to say anything else and when the sounds of drawers opening and closing reached his ears, he hurriedly made his way downstairs, escaping to the kitchen before the she could inadvertently shatter any remaining pieces of his heart.


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She reached into the tub, turning the taps to the settings she liked best before she closing the curtain, allowing the shower to warm up. Opening the cabinet, she rummaged through various bottles of shampoo and conditioner, looking for her favorite bath gel as a plastic bottle of lotion slipped and tumbled to the floor.

Squatting down on all fours, Dawn reached into the small space between the vanity and the closet to where the bottle skittered to a stop when she noticed the corner of a box peeking out from behind the stack of “good towels” folded up on the bottom shelf.

Curiosity got the better of her and she left the bottle where it lay, instead reaching out and removing the stack of towels, revealing the small box behind them and she reached in grabbing hold and pulling it out to sit on the floor in front of her, immediately recognizing the contents.

‘So this is where you hid your good stuff.’

Picking up a bottle of shampoo, she flips the cap open, bringing it to her nose and inhaling the sweet sugared-vanilla scent, her eyes falling closed as she remembered how Buffy would always smell like this when she was getting ready for a date. Except towards the end there when she supposedly wasn’t dating anyone, but there were a few times when she would leave the house for patrol and smelling like warm vanilla sugar. Those were usually the nights she, “just happened to run into Spike”.

Yeah. Her sister was definitely the Queen of Denial.

Smiling gently in spite of the tears that sprang to her eyes, Dawn placed the bottle on the floor beside her, finding the matching conditioner and body wash as well and placing those beside it before she pushed the box to the back of the shelf once more, restoring the towels to their rightful place in front of it.

Standing up, she unties her bathrobe, hanging it on the hook on the back of the door before gathering the bottles in her hands and then stepping into the now, pleasantly warm shower.


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He stood outside on the back porch, needing the quiet minutes to himself but leaving the door open… just in case. He was relieved that the Wicca birds did as he asked when he first arrived, leaving him and Dawn to work it out amongst themselves as they went to a movie.

Patting his pockets down, he found himself annoyed at forgetting his duster and the pack of smokes inside the pocket when he remembered the pack he saw Rupert tucking away on top of the fridge just last week. ‘Looks like Ripper’s never too far from the surface’ when Spike also remembered the amount of scotch the shopkeeper tucked away that same night and went in search for one or both. Ducking back inside, he reached up, his hand patting around on top of the refrigerator until it found something smallish and rectangular-like and his annoyance dissipated when he pulled down the coveted smokes.

Stepping back outside the still open door, he took a fag between his lips, lighting it with one of the matches tucked inside the cellophane and he inhaled deeply, the tip glowing bright red in the darkness.

Closing his eyes, he held the smoke inside him for a heartbeat or two before exhaling it in a steady white stream before sitting down on the top step and taking another deep drag, letting the monotonous repetition soothe his frazzled nerves and when that one was about gone, he mashed it out on the side of the step he sat upon before lighting another; chain-smoking his way through three of them before the quiet drone of the shower inside was silenced.

Standing up, he went back into the house, flipping on the kitchen light as he replaced the pack on top of the refrigerator, opening the door and searching through its contents and considerably much calmer than he was before.

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Dawn stepped into the kitchen and found Spike setting down a plate stacked with toast and a large-sized omelet topped with cheese.

Smiling graciously at him, she stepped around him, moving towards the fridge as he buttered more toast, tugging on the door and reaching inside to pull out a jar of salsa, holding it up as he looked at her over his shoulder and he smiled back at her in surprise, “What?”

“Since when do you like hot salsa?”

“I don’t. Well I like salsa, but I can’t do the hot stuff. I keep mine kinda medium. This stuff—“ she waved the bottle at him—“is for you.”

Touched that she remembered, he placed the knife in the sink before turning to join her at the center island.

“Do you want to eat here or at the table?” she asked, looking up at him in embarrassment as her stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly.

“Wherever you want Pet. S’no difference to me,” grinning wickedly when her stomach grumbled loudly once more.

“Right. Let’s go eat in the dining room since it’s you and me and our first official dinner date.”

Grabbing the plates as she picked up the glasses of juice and blood respectively, she moved towards the dining room, the smiling vampire not far behind.

After dinner they retired to the couch, Spike reaching towards the side table for the deck of cards.

“Fancy a game of Snap, Bit?”

Yawning widely, she stretched her arms high above her head as he noticed the corner of a book poking up along the side of the couch. Pulling it out, he examined the spine before opening it, finding Joyce’s name inside the cover and he looks questioningly at the young girl next to him.

“I was reading that last week before you disappeared. I couldn’t sleep and when I did it was with the nightmares and stuff and—when we were small, Mom used to read some of those poems to us to help us fall asleep.”

Turning the pages, he found one he was familiar with, quietly reading aloud as Dawn tucked her legs up beside her, leaning against his side and nestling her head on his shoulder.

Sugared vanilla tickled his senses and he closed his eyes, breathing deep and reciting the poem by memory as he lost himself in the familiar scent and the warmth of the girl at his side.

“One that is ever kind said yesterday:
'Your well-beloved's hair has threads of grey,
And little shadows come about her eyes;
Time can but make it easier to be wise
Though now it seems impossible, and so
All that you need is patience.'
Heart cries, 'No,
I have not a crumb of comfort, not a grain.
Time can but make her beauty over again:
Because of that great nobleness of hers
The fire that stirs about her, when she stirs,
Burns but more clearly. O she had not these ways
When all the wild Summer was in her gaze.'
Heart! O heart! if she'd but turn her head,
You'd know the folly of being comforted.”

“Thank you for staying here with me tonight,” her voice was soft, heavy with sleep as her breath whispered against his shoulder. “I just really didn’t want to be alone tonight and I was afraid that if you left, you’d disappear again—you’re all I have left Spike.”

“Hush now Bit. That’s not true. The Wicca birds, they want what’s best for you and the Watcher is something of a father figure, yeah?” His voice was just as soft as hers, rumbling more from his chest and he leaned back against the sofa, pulling her along with him as they settled more deeply into the cushions. “Even the whelp and the ex-demon lass worry about you.”

“Mmm, maybe—but you care about me more than they all do. You don’t act like it’s such a chore—to be around me—and you’re my best friend and—I love you more than everyone else and—thanks for being here with me.” Her voice grew softer and slower until she was speaking in halting whispers, sleep pulling her into its embrace as Spike felt a single tear slide from the corner of his still-closed eyes. This girl in his arms, who was not really a girl anymore at all really, she looked to him for guidance… for honesty. She chose him above everyone else, trusting that he would take care of her—she loved him. Spike felt the jagged bits of his heart shift, her whispered words helping to fill in the cracks that were left.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be Nibblet.”


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Two hours later, a pensive Willow and Tara arrived at the house on Revello, their quiet apprehension dissipating in the face of what they were greeted with.

Spike was stretched out along the couch, sitting up slightly and nestled in the corner as Dawn lay alongside him, her head pillowed by his shoulder while both hands curled around the bicep of the arm wrapped protectively around her; his chest rising and falling in rhythm with hers as they slept soundly.

Both women moved forward, Tara bending down to tug off the battered boots from Spike’s feet while Willow unfolded the blanket hanging over the back of the sofa to cover them.

Sharing a small, relieved smile, the lovers toed off their shoes, picking them up before climbing the stairs quietly, being careful not to disturb the sleeping pair on the couch.




**poem is The Folly of Being Comforted by William Butler Yeats