53 Days

“That’s a good way to get yourself in trouble,” he said, startling Dawn as she slipped a pair of earrings into her purse.

She spun around with a gasp. She glared at him and then swatted him across the chest. “Geez, Spike! Stalk much?”

He shrugged. “Just happened to spot you, thought I'd come see what my Li'l Bit was up to. No good, obviously.”

Dawn had the grace to flush.

“Best put that back, pet. Any other goodies you’ve got stashed in there, too.” He watched sternly as she sheepishly placed two pairs of earrings and a necklace back on the display rack. He raised one eyebrow, and another necklace and a handful of bangles emerged from her voluminous bag. "That everything, then? Any other stores you might have liberated merchandise from that we should visit?”

Dawn shook her head. “Come on,” she whined. “You steal things all the time, why can’t I?” She glanced down at the bag in his hand. “Unless you’ve decided to become a good little consumer? Anya would be so proud of you.”

“Vampire here,” he said. “Evil, remember?” He wasn’t about to admit that he’d willingly paid a corporation for an overpriced item of clothing. He made a mental note to get rid of the receipt before she could find it; his girl was sweet, but had no compunction about going through his things.

“Really. I suppose you shoplifted the bag, too?”

Well, she’d caught him there. He thought fast. “’Course I did. Be a little conspicuous walking around with goods and sundries flapping in the breeze, wouldn’t I?” He folded up the bag and stuffed it into one of the inside pockets of his duster, hoping to end this particular conversation.

“Since when do you ‘shop’ at the Gap?” Dawn asked incredulously.

His eye twitched. “My best girl’s got a birthday coming up, yeah? Didn’t suppose you’d like a Grappler tusk or some such oddity you’d find at the demon shops.”

“Uh, no.”

He took her elbow and led her out of Claire’s Boutique into the main concourse of the mall. “Aren’t you supposed to be at school right now?” he asked her.

“Spike, it’s Saturday.”

“Oh. Right. Well, still doesn’t mean you should be hanging about the mall, picking up anything that’s not nailed down. You can’t afford to get in trouble, Dawn,” he said seriously. “How d’you think the ‘Bot would do, trying to defend you to the police? Hell, even the mall rent-a-cop would smell a rat.”

“Yeah, well, whose fault is it that she’s all weird and stuff?” Dawn yanked her arm out of his grasp.

He tried not to let the hurt show on his face.

“I’m sorry, Spike,” she said almost immediately. She slipped her hand into his and squeezed, to show she really hadn’t meant it. He smiled faintly at her.

“Want some ice cream?” he asked, to show that he wasn’t upset with her.

She smiled back at him. “Sure! There’s a Ben and Jerry’s in the food court.”

They were both prickly these days, and more often than not ended up sniping with each other, because more often than not it was just the two of them at the house. Red and Glinda always had their noses buried in books – thick ones, old ones, from the restricted section of the Magic Box. He wasn’t sure what they were researching, though they occasionally pulled out some new trick on patrol. Red lately had taken to directing patrols by speaking to them mind-to-mind. He hated the way that felt, her rummaging through his brain. Was worse than the chip the bloody Army blokes had shoved up his cranium. He hated, too, the way it reminded him of the battle with Glory. He’d hesitated when she’d told him to go. If he hadn’t… if he’d only been a little faster…

He shook his head and skipped out of the way of an errant sunbeam before it could do more than slightly singe him. He growled at Dawn, who was still holding his hand and leading the way to the food court. “Sorry,” she said. "Seriously, though, how have you managed to make it through the past hundred and twenty years without figuring out how to not burst into flames?"

He just glowered at her. She grinned at him unrepentantly and followed a safer path, out of the way of the skylights littering the ceiling of the mall.

“Hey, Dawn,” a chirpy voice called out.

She dropped his hand and turned around. Her chin came up and she folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Hey, Kirstie. Nice to see you,” she said to the pretty blond girl who’d called her name. Her tone was bright and falsely sincere, though he doubted anyone who didn’t know her well would recognize it. “Lisa.” Dawn turned to a slim black girl, who looked a little embarrassed to be seen. “Thought you were busy today?”

“Um, yeah, well,” Lisa stammered. “I was supposed to, you know, hang out with my folks, but then they changed their minds. I tried calling you, but you must have left already.”

He itched to go into game face at her obvious lie. He could scare the bloody hell out of these little bints; wanted to, for snubbing his girl. Then he tuned back into the conversation.

“Who’s your friend?” the blond asked. She eyed him with interest and gave him a coquettish smile. A slightly taller brunette, standing just behind the girl, gave him a very similar sort of look.

He swallowed hard and glanced at Dawn. She looked back at him with a smirk, and curled an arm around his waist. Inside his duster. He was not comfortable with this. “This is Spike,” she said, sweet as pie.

“Hi, Spike,” all three girls chorused, almost as one. The way they looked at him made his skin crawl. He was used to being the predator - or had been, at least, before the Initiative happened. Feeling like the prey was unnerving.

“’Lo,” he mumbled. He backed away from them a bit, but Dawn pinched him to make him stop. He looked down at her again and saw the pleading look in her eyes. He sighed and turned back to the girls, who were now advancing on him. "'S nice to meet you ladies," he managed.

There were blushes and giggles all around, interspersed with admiring comments about his coat and accent. Dawn preened a little, standing even closer to him and plainly enjoying the envious glances the blond sent her way.

“Well, Spike was going to buy me some ice cream, and probably some other stuff, too,” Dawn said. “So, I’ll see you around, I guess.” She released her grasp on him, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and pranced away.

He took one last look at the girls, all of whom were still staring at him that way, and swallowed his pride. He ran after Dawn’s retreating figure. She giggled when he caught up with her. “What’s so funny, Bit?” he growled.

“You’re scared of them!” She laughed at him, and he gave a grin back. It was good to see an honest smile on her face, one not marred by shadows in her eyes.

“'Course I am. Got a brain in my head, don't I? Teenage girls are worse’n most demons,” he said. “Present company excepted, of course,” he added when she looked daggers at him. “And what was that all about, anyway?”

She shrugged and tossed her hair again. “Kirstie’s a bee-yotch. She was totally drooling all over you, though, did you see that? She thinks she’s hot stuff because Kevin Berman asked her to the spring formal. But you’re way cooler than Kevin. It’s gonna drive her crazy to think you’re-"

“What? Your boyfriend? ‘Cause that would be fantastic if any of those chits decide to blab about little Dawnie Summers’ inappropriately older beau to the wrong person. You’ve gotta be more careful, Niblet. I don’t exactly stand up to scrutiny any better than the ‘Bot would.”

She stuck her lip out. He looked away from her. Damn Summers women and their pouty lips.


His fiancé squirmed around on his lap. Very nice, but very distracting. He tried to focus on their argument. Because this was important to both of them.

“This is our wedding and you’re treating it like a huge joke!” she complained. Her bottom lip pooched out appealingly.

“Ooh, pouty. Look at that lip. Gonna get it.” She giggled and he tugged her closer. “Gonna get it.” He got it, pulled it into his mouth, bit it lightly.

She was delicious, and she was all his.


“C’mon,” he said roughly. “Let’s get some sugar in you.” He followed her to the Ben and Jerry’s counter, where she ordered a triple scoop. He looked doubtfully between her tiny frame and the giant ice cream cone, but if he’d learned one thing about Dawn so far this summer, it was that she could eat incredible amounts of sweets when she set her mind to it.

They sat in silence for a while, as she worked on the ice cream cone. When she was sure she had all the potential drips under control, she looked up at him. “Why do you always try to convince me you’re evil?”

He stared at her for a moment. “Shouldn’t have to convince you,” he said finally. “I am. Vampire plus no soul equals evil. Pretty basic equation. Even someone who’s repeating ninth grade math should be able to figure it.”

She let that one go, for which he was thankful. Her little stunt earlier had him on edge still, or he’d never have said it. “But you’re not. I mean, yeah, you’re a vampire and you don’t have a soul, but… You know, Angel’s got a soul, but all he did after Buffy…” She paused. “After the funeral, he gave me his card and told me to call him if I needed anything. But he couldn’t wait to get back to L.A. He wouldn’t be making sure I do my homework or, or sitting outside my window every night in case I have a bad dream.”

He snorted to cover the depth of his emotion. They never talked about the nights he spent watching her; he’d half-thought she was unaware of his presence. “Bleeding poofter just doesn’t know what to do with a kidling he can’t snack on. Soul or no soul, he’s a berk.”

Dawn giggled. “And he’s got stupid hair.”

He knew there was a reason he loved this kid.

“But, Spike, you do those things and you don’t have a soul. So I don’t think you can really be evil. Not anymore.”

He should have known she wasn’t going to drop it. "Well, I am," he said. "I ever get this chip out, I'll..."

"You'll what? Bite me?" She rolled her eyes at him. "Please, like I'd believe that."

He wasn't sure what to say. He could tell her that little girls like her used to be his favorite appetizer, back in the good old days. So fresh and sweet, all innocence and screaming terror, blood pouring hot and luscious down his throat, squirming soft flesh in his fingers. That would set her straight about him and his status as the Big Bad. He looked at her, eating her ice cream cone just as if she weren't sitting across from one fourth of the Scourge of Europe, and opened his mouth to tell her exactly how vile he had been, how dangerous he undoubtedly would be again as soon as he got this infernal piece of technology out of his skull.

He couldn't do it.

"Nah, you're right, I wouldn't bite you," he said. "Snack-sized skinny chit like you would hardly be worth the trouble. I'd get what, a mouthful or two? Just enough to whet the appetite, but no more." There. That was evil, but not too evil. Wouldn't do to be giving her more nightmares than she already had. "Would probably bite Red, though," he added for good measure.

"Whatever," Dawn said, clearly unimpressed. "You wouldn't, and you know it. You want me to think you're all evil and stuff, but you're just not, Spike. So I don't get why you keep making such a big deal out of it. Besides, you've got that chip and it's not going anywhere. Not with the Initiative gone. That's as good as a soul."


“I’ve changed, Buffy,” he said earnestly, willing her to believe him, to give him a chance.

"You mean the chip?” she retorted. “That’s not change, that’s just holding you back. You're like a serial killer in prison."

He couldn’t stand the scorn in her voice. For the briefest of seconds, he wished the damned chip away, just so he could rip her holier-than-thou head clean off her shoulders.



"It's not," he said. He slammed his fists down on the table. She jumped. The last bit of her cone fell from her nerveless fingers, and she stared at him with wide, scared eyes. "It doesn't change one thing about me, except for the fact that I can't hurt humans anymore. Doesn't mean I don't want to, doesn't mean I wouldn't if I had the chance. I'm a bad dog, Little Bit, I was made to slash and bash. I’m made for hurting and bloodshed. Best if you remember that from now on."

He stood up and stormed away from the food court, stopping only once he was out of range of those big blue eyes. He slumped against a wall and covered his face with a shaking hand. He hated this, hated the chip with a fiery passion. Weren't for the chip, he'd still know who he was, where he belonged in the world. He wouldn't be feeling all this guilt and regret and grief that wouldn't let up for one single second.

He certainly wouldn't be standing here kicking himself for being the one to put that pained expression on the Niblet’s sweet face.

He heard the thumpity-thump of her little heart a second before her scent – raspberries and fresh-cut grass and something a touch darker, something he thought came from the way she was made, the part she got from her sister – filled his senses. He looked up to see her standing in front of him, big eyes full of tears she wouldn't let fall and chin all a-quiver. He sighed.

"Sorry, Dawn," he said. "Didn't mean all that, you know."

"I know," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to make you mad, Spike. It's just... Giles can't even look at me since Buffy..." Her voice cracked. "And the rest of them, too. So if you're evil and you're the only one who can stand to be around me, what does that make me?”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and wished desperately for Tara to appear out of thin air. She’d know just what to say. “C’mon, now, pet,” he said. “You're the furthest thing from evil I've ever seen. The Scoobies love you, you know that. They’re just… everybody’s sad right now. Bound to get better, yeah?”

She sniffled and wiped a tear away. “I should have been the one to jump,” she said, and buried her head in his chest. “It’s my fault she’s gone.” There was a note of misery in her voice that he hadn’t heard since the beginning of the summer. He’d really thought she was doing better. Probably because he was wallowing so deep in his own grief that he’d been neglecting hers.

He patted her back awkwardly. “Wasn't your fault, Niblet. Slayer did what she had to do. She’s a hero, and that’s what heroes do, right? Make the sacrifice so people like you don’t have to.” He could have pointed out who was really at fault, who had failed to keep the promise he’d made, and thus led directly to the Slayer’s death, but he didn’t want to argue blame just now. Not in the middle of the sodding mall, with nosy teenagers and those creepy mall-walking old ladies already gawking at the two of them.

Dawn nodded hesitantly. “She told me… right before she jumped, she said, ‘This is the work I have to do.’ She told me to live for her.” Her watery eyes fastened on his face. “She told me to tell her friends that she loved them, that we should take care of each other.”

He wanted to think he was included in that sentiment, but he knew better.

“We’re not doing so well taking care of each other, huh?” Dawn said sadly.

He shook his head. “No, not so much. Sorry ‘bout that, Li’l Bit. Let you down, let the Slayer down. Told her I’d protect you. Wasn't up to snuff when it came down to it. Or since then, either.” Then he touched her face lightly and, because this had been festering inside him for fifty three torturous days, added, “I meant it to be me, you know. Thought I’d be the one to go down fighting that hell bitch. Never meant for it to be Buffy.” Her name rasped against his throat.

Big tears began rolling down Dawn’s cheeks and her shoulders convulsed as she cried. She flung her arms around his waist. He glared at a blue-haired, sweat suit clad rubbernecker, letting his eyes go amber and his fangs drop for just long enough to get her heart racing along like a scared rabbit. He wondered if his chip would fire if the biddy dropped dead of a heart attack.

“No one will talk about her,” Dawn hiccoughed out between sobs. “No one even says her name when I'm around. It’s like they all want to pretend that the stupid robot’s really her and everything can just go on like normal. But nothing’s normal! Nothing’s right! I miss Buffy so much and I miss my mommy and, and I just want to talk about them sometimes. I don’t want everyone to hush up when I walk in the room, or look like I killed a puppy every time I mention her name.” Her tears quieted. She wiped her face clean on his shirt.

Well, he had lots more shirts back at the crypt. What was a little snot between friends?

“C’mon, Bit, let’s get you home,” he said. "You wanna talk about Buffy, we'll talk about her." It still hurt him to say her name, but for Dawn, he'd force himself. He'd fix this. "We'll talk to the witches, to Harris and Anya. You tell them what she said, 'bout taking care of each other. Make sure we do a better job of it from now on, yeah?"

She smiled up at him. “Can we make some popcorn when we get home?” she sniffed. "With garlic and chocolate sauce?"

He chuckled and hugged her tighter for a second. “You are one weird little human, but yeah. Whatever you want.”