From the kitchen, Spike and Dawn could hear bits of Buffy's conversation as she spoke to Giles.

"Yes, dreams. You know, like those freaky-times-ten slayer dreams I used to have?.... They've been getting worse, too... I don't know, Giles. I think this seems like a pretty good reason to start with the spazzing... I'm not spazzing!... No, I didn't. I said it might be a good reason to spaz, not that I was actually... Ok, how about we get back to the hot topic of the moment here? Evil nightmares, for instance, and riddles... Well, not riddles exactly. It sounded almost like a, like a prophesy of some kind, and apparently one written by a drunken poet... It said something about darkness falling..." They heard a pause followed by some crinkling, "Uh huh, here. I wrote it down, figured you'd need to know the whole thing verbatim to do your book stuff... Yes, you taught me well, oh wise watcher. Can I read the evil prophesy now?... K, it said, 'When darkness falls, death will prevail...'"

"So, what's your deal?"

Spike looked up at the source of the unexpected question, surprised. Since Dawn had come home, those had been the first words she'd spoken to him. Now, she sat across from him at the kitchen table, arms folded across her chest as she looked at him with an expression of slight indignation and expectancy.

Spike sighed, placing his mug of pig's blood cautiously on the table in front of him.

"What do you want to know, bit?"

Dawn raised an eyebrow.

"You, with the showing up, and the whole not being dead thing."

Spike nodded his understanding. "Hell of a lot to explain..."

"How about starting with why you didn't tell anyone you were alive."

Spike sighed loudly, bristling slightly at her forewardness. However, Dawn pushed on, unphased by
his reaction.

"Buffy missed you, you know," Spike stared down at the contents of his mug, uncharacteristically quiet as he contemplated all he was being told.

"She'd try to act all normal and big-sisterly, but... I could tell she was hurting," Dawn continued. Her expression softened slightly and she lowered her eyes, unfolding her arms only to clasp her hands together on the table, staring down at them. "I hated you," She stated softly. "I hated you for hurting Buffy." Picking at her nails absentimindedly, she fidgeted, as she was finally getting to say everything she'd been wanting to say to him.

"There was a time when I looked up to you, too... You just seemed so cool, like you had all the answers, and sometimes," She paused again, a look of slight guilt clouding her features. "Sometimes, I even thought you were better than Buffy."

She shook her head in disbelief.

"You took care of me, when Buffy was gone. You were there when she wasn't, and, I thought you were above certain things. So when you..." She couldn't finish that statement. "After that, I hated you even more. I resented that you made me trust you, only to prove me completely wrong."

"I resented you for shattering my dumb little adolescent image of you being this hero. Because really, I was just a stupid teenager. I still am, in some ways." Letting out a long breath, she continued.

"It took me a long time to accept that you'd changed, that you were a different person... You screwed up. I mean, majorly, royally screwed up. But, you knew it, and you tried to fix it. I understand that now, and I forgive you. I mean, you did die saving the world and all, and, um, I guess what I'm trying to say is... Buffy wasn't the only one who missed you."

As Dawn finished her speech, Spike couldn't help but feel touched by her honesty.

'You really are turning into a ponce...'

Then, a second, more disturbing thought entered his mind.

'Bloody hell, you're contemplating again. You're not only a ponce, now you're also turning into Sir Broods-a-lot himself.'

Shaking his head to clear it, Spike met Dawn's gaze and offered her a kind smile, opting to keep his answer short and sweet.

"Thanks, lil bit."

Dawn nodded, giving a tight smile in return.

"Spike?" She said after a moment. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a 'little' bit anymore. Haven't been for a while now. I mean, hello, almost legal adult here." She gestured to herself with a slight wave of her hand, trying to emphasize her point.

"Sorry, nickname's a habit now, platelet. Can't bloody help that." His eyes had a slightly teasing glint in them as he spoke.

Dawn stood from the table slowly. "Fine," She said, pushing her chair in, and pausing for a moment before she responded, "I guess I can live with that."

Buffy entered the room just as Dawn left, stopping next to Spike where he remained seated at the table, downing the remainder of pig's blood before it got cold.

"So, what'd old Rupes have to say?" He inquired after finishing the contents of his mug.

Buffy sat across from him, taking the seat Dawn had just abandoned.

"He's on his way," She responded.

"So, has he got any clue what's going on with all the ghostly mojo?"

Buffy shook her head.

"Not yet. He has to go into hyper librarian mode first, do some research."

"Buffy?"

"Yeah?" Her response was almost too quick.

'Well, someone's jumpy...'

"What's on your mind, pet?" Spike tilted his head slightly, bending downward to try to catch her gaze
that seemed permanently transfixed by something on the table. "Buffy?"

She sighed, meeting his eyes hesitantly.

"You were in those dreams too, Spike... I mean, it looked like you, but it wasn't you. At least, I don't think so. Because you, or whatever it was tried to drain me, to kill me, like..."

"Like pre-soul Spike."

"No, like pre-chipped Spike. Except even worse, more sinister... When I first met you, when you tried to kill me, I never feared you like this. Like it was something..."

"More evil?"

"More powerful," She added.

"Something like the First?"

Buffy shrugged. "I don't know." She rubbed her forehead in exhasperation. "God, I don't know what to think."

Reaching across the table for her hand, he covered it with his own.

"We'll figure it out, Buffy."

"How can you be so sure?"

But as Spike moved his thumb along the back of her hand, his eyes suddenly lit up with awe when he felt something he hadn't noticed before. Letting his gaze drop, he traced the slightly raised skin, small white-ish pink lines that had faded and were hardly noticeable anymore to the naked eye, but very distinguishable to the touch.

His mind flashed back to their final moments together in the Hellmouth, the amulet turning his soul into a pure, brilliant energy, Buffy entwining her small hand with his, only for their joined hands to burst into flame as the walls crumbled around them.

'Hurt like soddin' hell, too'

His own scars from the fire had faded, supernatural healing powers making it almost impossible for any physical wound to leave lasting marks. Especially after being recorporealized through the power of a mystical amulet.

Finding his voice again, Spike looked up at Buffy, whose own expression remained unreadable as she waited for him to speak.

"Because you always do," He whispered.

*****

Later that night, Buffy found herself nestled in Spike's arms yet again. And in those moments, she felt comfortable and content.

Well, as comfortable and content as she could be with all the new worries flooding her mind.

She'd been to hell and back, died twice, faced countless battles, slayed demons with superhuman strength as part of her life's calling. Yet somehow, being in Spike's arms made her feel safer, as though he were her shield from the world, if only for a moment. It felt good to have her main source of support back, the one who always had her back.

It made her feel safe... and loved.

They lay spooned together on her bed, her back aligned snugly with his chest. She wore pajama bottoms and a thin blue camisole, him jeans and nothing else, allowing her to feel the hard, smooth muscular lines of his bare chest pressing against her. His arm was strewn over her waist, fingers splayed across her stomach as he held her close.

Buffy absentmindedly ran her fingers over his hand, her jumbled thoughts making it hard for her to find rest.

The dreams, the time loss, the uncanny feelings of foreboding... There was just too much for it to all be mere coincidence, and Buffy could only hope that Giles would bring the answers when he arrived.

"Mmm, Buffy..."

Buffy was torn from her thoughts as she heard Spike let out a soft moan behind her, followed by a barely audible gasp.

Buffy tensed slightly.

Wait, was he?...

Upon suddenly feeling a telltale hardness prodding her backside, her suspicions were confirmed.

'Ok, there's no mistaking that'

Spike was having a dream about her. And from the feel of it, most definitely a naughty one.

"Buffy..." Shuddering as he nuzzled her neck, she closed her eyes, unsure of what to do.

But as he slipped his hand under the waistband of her pants, she realized that stopping him was the farthest thing from her mind.

"Love you, Buffy. My Buffy..."

His fingers suddenly dipped inside her warm center, already damp with her arousal, brushing against her swollen clit and making Buffy bite down on her lip, hard, to keep from crying out.

She was so close. He'd barely even touched her, and she was already almost at her edge.

As his hand continued its sweet torture, movements lazy and slow as he fondled her in his sleep, a soft mewl escaped her throat. Swallowing hard against another cry of pleasure, she felt the pressure building inside of her rapidly, like hot steam ready to burst as the steady rhythm of his fingers was quickly stroking her to completion.

'Oh, God, just a little more...'

But even as she thought this, her climax washed over her with those final strokes of his fingers, and she was sent spiraling over that edge. The orgasm came fast and hard, leaving just as quickly as it had come.

As her body came down and the fog cleared from her mind, she realized his hand had never ceased its movements. She twitched, the feel of his fingers tirelessly rubbing her already sensitized clit almost painful.

She turned in his arms, effectively halting his movements and sensing that he was in the process of waking as his eyelids fluttered. Leaning closer, she whispered his name.

"Spike..."

Upon hearing her voice, his eyes flew open, instantly locking with hers. Confusion was apparent in his blue depths as he instantly smelled their mutual arousal, noticing the fact that his hand was jammed halfway down her pants quickly thereafter. His eyes widened slightly. He must've...

"I'm sorry," He mumbled, realizing what he had done as he pulled his hand away, turning onto his back in order to give himself some distance.

"Don't be," She responded softly, to which he shook his head, sitting upright on the bed.

"I need a smoke," was all he said before standing and making haste for the door.

Buffy let him leave, lying still on the bed and forcing herself not to chase after him as she instinctively knew he needed his space. There were always certain boundaries, always had been and always would be, that were understood by both.

Everyone needs to be alone sometimes, just as everyone needs to be loved. Which was something
Buffy knew perhaps better than anyone else.

Countless minutes later, Buffy heard the door shut, the poignant smell of smoke filling her nostrils as she felt him slide into bed beside her once again. Hearing him sigh, Buffy decided to tell him what she felt.

"You didn't take advantage, if that's what you're thinking," She assured him. "I could've stopped you if I wanted to, you know."

Her statement was met with a long silence, until finally...

"I'm sorry." Buffy turned to face him.

"I told you, you don't have to be..." But she trailed off, as one look in his eyes told her he wasn't just talking about tonight. Offering him a soft smile, she turned on her other side again, pulling his arm over her to encourage a response as she scooted backwards and resumed their earlier position. After a brief moment, she felt his grip on her tighten, and he reveled in the gift of her warmth, of having her so close.

"I know," Was the last thing she said before sleep overtook them both.