Disclaimer:  I don’t own or profit from BtVS.  No copyright infringement intended.

Spoilers for Halloween

A/N:  The first couple of chapters are going to be Spike/Dawn friendship centric.  There will be plenty of Spuffy later in the story, but in the beginning the intention is for Dawn to be the conduit for Spuffiness, as her presence affects character attitudes.  S2 will remain basically cannon with major changes in Becoming I and II.  Keep in mind that Buffy is sixteen so her thoughts are less than mature, and well, Dawn is twelve.  I don’t remember much about being twelve, it being somewhere in the foggy, distant past for me, but I do seem to remember the phrase, ‘that’s not fair’ being pretty central to my every thought.

Remember When

Chapter Two

October, 1997

Buffy left the old, smelly, clerk guy to wrap up the totally awesome dress for her while she searched the isles for accessories.  She was going to look like one of those beautiful, old-timey women who waltzed in candlelit ballrooms.  Angel would go ga-ga over it.  For once she would be delicate and feminine and womanly.  The kind of woman Angel was used to championing.

Once upon a time, she would have been one of those girls who needed saving.  Small, fragile and perfectly coifed in the newest style, she was a vision of femininity.  But after her Calling, she was the one to do all the saving.  Which was totally fine.  She was all onboard with the having of superpowers, and girl power and you know, stuff.  But…

Buffy was loathed to say it, but when you were stronger than your hunny it could make you feel less than girly.  Worse, it made you doubt if your guy even saw you as a girl.  Guys were super sensitive about that sort of thing.  They were usually all about the saveage of the damsels, but if she was fulfilling the guy role of Prince Charming, then what role was Angel supposed to play?  Clearly, he decided on broody, cryptic guy.  And, hey!  It totally worked for him.  ‘Cause, he was Hot with a capital H.

She told Willow that Halloween was a get out of jail free card to remake yourself into anything you desired.  Well, for one night, Buffy wanted to be an honest to goodness girl again.  She wanted to swish around in long skirts with an hourglass figure and push up boobs that would make Angel’s eyes pop out of his head.

She smiled as she picked up a package containing a long brunette wig.  She was gonna go so girly she’d barely recognize herself.  After all, Angel liked brunettes didn’t he?  Buffy looked at the hair in the package.  It was a little lighter than Dru’s, but it would do.

“What’d ya think?”  Dawn popped up in front of her holding a package.  Buffy examined the sexy Little Red Riding Hood costume critically.

“A world of no.”

“But, Buffy!”  Dawn screeched at an unholy octave designed to get her way.  While Joyce may have relented, her mature ears being more sensitive, Buffy was still safely ensconced in the less than mature stage of her life, and could withstand the tactic she had employed herself not that long ago.

“No.  Mom would kill me, then you.  And as much as I would love to get rid of you, like a bad rash, I’m not willing to sacrifice myself.”  Buffy used too many words and Dawn stopped listening somewhere around…No.

“But, it’s cute,” she pointed out.  Having just got her first training bra, Dawn now felt it was time to delve headfirst into womanhood which included showing off said boobs.  She couldn’t understand why the other women in her family didn’t seem to agree.  Especially her sister.  If Buffy’s skirts got any shorter all of London and France would see her underpants.

“No.  It’s sexy.”  Buffy countered.  “You’re too young for something like this.”

“I’m twelve.”  Dawn stomped her foot in a flurry of youthful indignation.

“And that would be my point.”  Buffy threw the package onto a nearby shelf with flourish.  “C’mon.  We’ll see if we can’t find something at the Supermax on the other side of town.  They’ve got more kid stuff.”  Buffy walked back to the counter to pay for her costume.

“That’s so unfair.”  Dawn snarled, stomping behind her.

“That’s life,” remarked Buffy with wisdom stolen from her mother.

888888

Dealing with snot-nosed eight and nine-year-olds?  So not her thing.  Top it off by being chaperoned by her big sister?  So putting the unfair into her life.

And that was before Lady Elizabeth put in an appearance.  Dawn didn’t know what was going on, but it was buckets of wrong.

“We must stay close to the menfolk.  Especially, the one with the musket.  They will protect us.”  Buffy dragged Dawn into the house with a surprisingly weak grip.  Dawn stared at her sister, a little bug-eyed.  What the…Menfolk?  Seriously?

“Buffy, what happened to ‘go girl power?’  You know, Slayer and all.”

“I have no idea of what you speak.  Now stop prattling and come along, little sister.”

Well, some things never change.  Even while thinking she was Princess Peach, Buffy was still bossy, and though she couldn’t remember her own name or what a car was, she sure as heck knew Dawn was her sister, and had bossing rights over her.  Dawn supposed the ‘suitable’ Red Riding Hood costume Buffy picked out for her was kinda old-timey with its fake ribbon corset covering her collarbone and flouncy skirt that went to her knees.  They sorta matched.

Princess Buffy, as Dawn was starting to think of her, wasn’t comfortable around Angel, which she thought was hilarious.  She never liked Buffy’s boyfriend.  He did that creepy, lurky thing that really wigged her out.  Then there was his bumpy problem.  Dawn knew about vampires and Buffy’s slayage gig since last year.  How could she not?  Seriously.  Sneaking in and out of the house every night might get passed mom, but not little sisters.  After whining, wheedling and threats of blackmail, Buffy had confessed everything.  Then made her pinky swear on her Hello Kitty diary not to tell mom or Buffy would make a point of standing outside her classroom door every day to pick her up after school instead of staying a respectful distance at the curb.

Their whole secret sister society almost got blown late last year, when Buffy got home earlier than usual and Dawn, who’d been ransacking her sister’s room for counter blackmail material, had to quickly hide in the closet or else get caught by an irate older sister.  She figured she could sneak out while Buffy did her nightly bathroom ritual.  What she didn’t count on was Mr. Lurkypants following her sister through the window.

Dawn had no idea who he was, but by the way Buffy was cuddling up to him her big sis sure knew him.  Then they kissed, and Dawn screamed the house down.

When mom burst into the room, Mr. Bumpy was gone and Dawn was bawling in Buffy’s arms.  Buffy told their mom it was all her fault for telling ghost stories under the covers, and that Buffy’s tale of the Green-Eyed Maniac freaked Dawn out.  Mom yelled and grounded Buffy for a week, but allowed her to stay with Dawn.  She was too freaked out to protest when Buffy crawled into bed with her and wrapped her arms around her.  They stayed like that all night, Buffy whispering all the rules for vampires and how they didn’t apply to Angel, because he had a soul.  Dawn never bought it.  She knew there were plenty of bad guys out there with souls, and she didn’t like how Angel looked at her sometimes.  Like she was the annoying kid sister he wouldn’t mind eating.

So when Mr. Bumpy freaked Princess Buffy the - H E double hockey sticks – out, Dawn followed her sister right into the black of night.  Even if it was really scary out there.  Cuz that’s what family does.  They stick together.  Buffy taught her that.

Thing was.  She was only twelve.  Yah, she didn’t like to admit it, but it was a handicap.  When the stinky, yucky pirate guy grabbed Princess Buffy in the alley they were running though, Dawn snatched up a broken two-by-four and hit him square across the back.  ‘Cept it didn’t really work out.  In fact, the guy didn’t even feel it.  Persistent in a way that only a Summers woman could be, Dawn kept whacking him, while falling back on the secret weapon all twelve-year-old girls possess—screeching at decibels that made dogs howl.

Suddenly, the pirate was tossed away like he weighed less than a trash bag full of shredded paper, and Buffy collapsed on the ground in a heap of velvet and lace.

“Buffy!”  Dawn leapt to her side, searching for wounds.  Another perk to being the Slayer’s baby sister and secret sidekick; she totally knew what wounds looked like, having watched Buffy patch herself up more than a couple of times.  Not seeing anything obvious, Dawn patted her sister on the cheek.  “Ohmigod.  Did you faint?”  She asked her unconscious sister.  “I’m so totally never letting you live this down.”

“Well, well.  What do we have here?  Slayer surprise.”

Dawn glanced up at the man with the weird accent.  He was dressed in a punk rocker costume, which she had to admit, he pulled off.  Especially, the jacket.  She wondered where she could get one and if her new blackmail fodder of a fainting Princess Buffy was enough to purchase one.  Sometimes it was hard to put a price on sibling extortion.

“You know, Buffy?”  She rabbited over and tugged on the guy’s sleeve.  “You gotta help her.  Something’s happened and now she’s all girly Princess Buffy.  You called her Slayer so you must know how strong she is usually.  Please, help me to look after her until she’s better.  It’s not safe.”  Dawn added the last part solemnly.  She may be twelve, but she wasn’t dumb.  Really, she wasn’t!

“Hands off the leather.  You’ll bruise it.”  The guy shook her off, and Dawn jumped back with an eep.  She shot a quick glance at the mouth of the alley where a horde of carousing imps passed by.  The guy shouldered by her and hauled Buffy into his arms and strode off.  Dawn  practically had to run to keep up as he headed towards a warehouse.

“Thank you so much for helping.  I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up.”

Spike tuned the little girl out.  Normally, she would have made a nice bite-sized snack, but he had a four course Slayer buffet laid out for him and he didn’t want to taint her taste with an appetizer.  She still smelled of power, but it was all wrapped up and stifled by the magic running rampant in the air.

He kicked his way into an abandoned warehouse, smiling when he saw it was being used as a flophouse.  He laid the Slayer out on a ratty couch that was home to more than a few mice and went back to block off the door so they wouldn’t be disturbed.  When he came back, the fresh-faced girl with brown pigtails and big blue eyes was tucked up next to the Slayer, fussing over her.

The little girl brushed a brunette curl off the Slayer’s brow and Spike frowned.  The magic turned the wig into real hair, and while it was longer and tousled into feminine curls they really didn’t suit the Slayer.  She was a warrior, not some milk-mouthed maid.  Besides, he preferred her blonde.  It made her look like a Valkyrie.  A beautiful warrioress ascending from the battlefield, escorting fallen warriors to the great big mead hall in the sky.  Fucking gorgeous, that’s what that was.  He shook off the romantic thoughts and glared at her mousy brown hair.  Not that her looks were going to stop him from eating her.  She was going to taste good going down either way.

“---that’s what you do for family.”

Spike suddenly tuned into the little girl who had prattled on non-stop since the alley.  This was the first thing she said that was remotely interesting.  Family was always interesting to Spike.

“What?” he snapped.

The little girl sighed and rolled her eyes in a way that had him reconsidering his earlier distaste in eating her.

“I said, that normally I would have followed Buffy’s first rule, but I figured in this case the ‘Golden Rule’,” the girl used air quotes, “overrode it.”

Spike planted his feet and crossed his arms.  Slayer rules.  This oughta be good.  “And what’s that?” he asked with a smirk.

“What?” the girl asked bewildered.  “The first rule or the Golden Rule?”

The little girl really was kind of precious with big blue eyes and a smart mouth.  Spike bet she’d taste like confectioner’s sugar going down.  He figured she must be the Slayer’s little sis, but he hadn’t given the family a second thought after the disastrous fight at the school.  Going after the family wasn’t his style.

“All of ‘em.”

“Oh.”  Snack Size sat up perkily, folding her hands in her lap as if she was about to recite a long memorized memorandum.  “Well, there’s the basic, don’t ever, ever invite anyone into the house and don’t go out after dark, rules.  Those get kinda tricky ‘cause mom don’t know about the whole vampire thing and sometimes we have to run intrafurnace.

“Interference,” Spike corrected automatically.

“Yah, that.”

“You mean the Slayer’s mum, don’t know about her being Chosen and all that rot?”

“No.”  The little girl shifted.  He stared her down and he could literally see her defenses collapse.  She leaned closer to the Slayer as if to protect her from his scrutiny.  Brave little bint.

“She told mom and dad when she first got Chosen and they thought she was looney toons.”  Wide-eyed and loopy looking the little girl waved her hands around her head.  Spike snorted.  Baby bint had no idea what true insanity looked like.  “They put her in a hospital for crazy people.  Then dad left.”  Snack Size looked away.  She now had her sister’s head in her lap, seeking and giving protection at the same time.  These two were tight despite their age difference.  He could see that.  Losing big sis would destroy li’l sis.  Best to kill them together.

“So she told them it was all made up so they’d let her out.  Then me, her and mom moved here after the divorce and Buffy got all Chosen again.”  She paused, a petulant little frown puckering up her face.  She took a deep breath, and looked him right in the eye.  “It’s not her fault.”  Snack Size raised her chin defiantly, daring him to say something mean.  He just cocked his brow.  Did the little girl really think she could challenge him?

“So the rules,” he prodded.

“Oh, right.”  She scrunched her nose up as she thought.  “So the first rule is Run.  Run away as fast as you can.  Don’t wait for anyone else, no matter who I’m with.  Even if its Mom or Buffy.  Especially if its Buffy, cuz, you know, she’s usually with the superpowers and stuff.”

“Right.”

“Anyways, I’m supposed to run to the nearest house.  Not a public building like a school or library, but a house.  I’m just supposed to burst right in, even if it’s a stranger’s cuz vamps can’t come in.  So when Angel scared Buffy into running out of the house, I should have stayed.”  She said the last part mournfully, darting little fearful glances at her unconscious sister.  Big sis really had the rules beat into the little one’s head.  Good thing, all that.

“Princess, here, was scared of tall, dark and broody?  Color me shocked,” Spike sneered.  He fished out a fag and lit it with flourish.  Snack Size watched the glint of his zippo with interest.  Likes shiny things does she?  What a little magpie.

“I know, right?”  She giggled.  “Normally, she’s all, ‘oh, Angel.  You’re so big and handsome.’”  She clasped her hands over her heart and fluttered her eyelashes in such a way it made Spike crack a smile.

“You don’t like the Great Poof?”  Spike observed.

Snack Size’s cute little smile melted away and she fidgeted nervously with the hem of her skirt.

“Buffy says he has a soul,” she said loyally.

“But?”  It just tickled Spike pink that Angel’s whole soul routine didn’t seem to work with the innocent little girl, yet here she was spilling all the family secrets to the Big Bad like he was her own personal bleedin’ diary.

“He looks at me funny sometimes.  Buffy says it’s a predator thing and not to worry about it ‘cause he’s good now.  But it still weirds me out.”

“How does he look at you?”  Spike shifted.  He had a feeling he knew where this was going.  Snack Size looked about the right age.

Dawn’s nervousness ratcheted up a notch and Spike watched as she pressed her knees together and tucked her ankles back in an unconscious defensive stance he had seen many women take over the years.  Especially, when faced with Angelus.

“Dunno.  Kinda like how Coach Hewlett looked at his peewees.”  She leaned forward as if she was imparting a secret.  Something she probably overheard from the adults when they were talking in hushed whispers.  “He was a bad man,” she said in a conspiring tone.

Spike knew she had no idea in what way Coach Hewlett was a bad man.  He felt an odd sort of gratefulness in his chest for that.  He knew in this century, little girls weren’t nearly as innocent as they had been in his youth, but this girl was pretty close.  Sure, she knew what went bump in the night, but she didn’t know what kind of threat a truly bad man could be.  Spike may be the Big Bad, but he sure as hell wouldn’t be introducing her to those kinds of evils.

“So, anyway.  Running away is the first rule, but like I said I think the Golden Rule totally overrides it.”

“And what is the Golden Rule?”  Spike was curious to find out what was so important to the Slayer that it overrode all the other rules that were clearly designed to protect her mum and baby sis.

“Family first,” Snack Size chirped as if reciting the gospel and Spike blinked.  If Spike had rules, which really he didn’t, that would be his Golden One too.  Of course, it only extended to himself and Dru.  Angel and Darla could sod off for all he cared. 

“Buffy thinks I’m some stupid, little kid.”  Spike refocused on the girl who was still prattling on, her apple cheeks flushed with anger.  “She’s always telling me, family first, family first.”  The girl threw her hands up in the air.  “But what she’s really saying is me, mom and the rest of the world, first.  Buffy always puts herself last.  I mean, yeah, she’s totally obnoxious, and she’s always snooping in my business, but she’s still my sister and she’s not herself right now.  Someone has to look out for her for once, right?”  The little girl curled her fingers into her sister’s long hair.  She had a sad look in her eyes that was too old for her years.  It made Spike wonder if she knew about a Slayer’s life expectancy.

“Right,” Spike agreed softly.  He took a deep drag from his cigarette to soothe his nerves.  For a ball of fluffy nothing, baby bint had spunk, he’d give her that.  His gaze flittered to the still unconscious Slayer.  She must have learned it from big sis.  He’d never come across a Slayer with as much fire as this one, not even that gal in New York.

Suddenly, the idea of eating the Slayer in front of her li’l sis was less appealing.  Plus it wasn’t very sportsmen like.  Maybe, he should wait until the Slayer was back to her old self and Snack Size wasn’t around.  He shifted his weight uncomfortably.

“So any other rules,” he asked more to distract his own thoughts than anything else.

“Well, there’s the second rule that applies if you can’t run away.”

“What’s that?”

The little girl gave him a hard look that was pure, unadulterated Slayer and Spike knew it was the same look big sis gave li’l sis every time she repeated the rule to her.

“If you’re still breathing, then you’re still fighting,” the girl intoned without a hint of waver.  Something close to pride bloomed in Spike’s chest.  “Never let them get you down.  Never let them get their fangs in you.”

“Sounds about right, Snack Size,” he agreed with a smile.  “Though your such a dainty little thing…” he trailed off.

She popped to her feet.  “Oh, Buffy taught me loads of dirty tricks,” she beamed, coming to stand in front of him.

“Like what?” he asked indulgently. 

The girl crinkled her nose.  “They’re kinda icky.”

“Nothin’s icky if it saves your life.”  He dropped his spent cigarette to the floor and stomped it out with a twist of his boot.  He hooked his thumbs in his belt, rocking back on his heels.

“That’s what Buffy says.”

Spike felt a tremor at that, but he couldn’t exactly identify what it meant.  It shouldn’t be surprising that he and the Slayer agreed on so many points.  After all, behind their titles of Slayer and Vampire, they were still just warriors.

Snack Size held out her hands like sideways claws, her thumbs curled inward at a sharp angle.  “She says to go for the eyes.  To keep pushing my thumbs in not matter how much they scream or how icky it gets.  I told her I’d totally hurl, but she gets this really bitc---err, mean look on her face, and tells me I’d better not if I want to live ‘cuz as soon as they are on the ground I need to refer to lesson the first.”

“Run away.”  Spike nodded and Dawn agreed.  “Sounds good, but don’t forget the ears.”  He reached out, tweaking hers.  “They pull off surprisingly easy.”

“Ewww,” Her little nose scrunched up, and Spike smirked with a hint of human fang. 

“What else?”

She shifted, her face heating up like a furnace.  The girl really had the corner market on blushing.  Her whole face went red.

“Idontwannasay,” she mumbled and Spike found himself pitching forward on the balls of his feet to hear.

“What was that?”

“It’s embarrassing,” she hissed and Spike’s lips twitched into a smile.  This oughta be good.  He could only imagine what the Slayer taught the girl.

“Too bad, I want to hear it.”

“Well, you aren’t the boss of me,” she spat, her hands flying to her hips.  Ha, bloody, ha.  Someone had preadolescent attitude.  He definitely knew she learned that from the Slayer.  Right down to hand placement.  Maybe, she wasn’t as sweet as he thought in the first place.

“Guess, I’ll be off.  Good luck with the not being eaten and all that rot.”  He started towards the door, and as predicted she leapt after him.

“No, wait.”  She tugged on his sleeve.

He stopped, dropping a meaningful glance to his arm.  She snatched her hand away from the leather like it was scalding.  He folded his arms and waited for her to speak.  She shifted her weight, looking at anything but him.

“Buffy says when fighting a girl, that kneeing them in the---“ She vaguely motioned between his legs without actually looking.  “Works just fine, cause they aren’t expecting it, but it hurts us just as bad as it hurts guys.  Well, maybe not as much, but you know…still with the ouchies.  Anyways, when a guy attacks he’s expecting it.  It’s like the classic girly attack.”

“If done right, it can be pretty effective.”  Spike kept his feet planted wide apart.

“Yah, but Buffy says I’m too small and not really strong enough to pull it off.”

“So, what does she suggest?” 

If possible, the girl got even redder.  “She said for some reason guys don’t get as nervous when a girl puts her hands down there.”

Spike’s brows lifted.  Now where could this possibly be going?  Surely, the Slayer didn’t tell her innocent li’l sis to give out hand jobs to get out of trouble?

The little girl covered her flaming cheeks with her hands and Spike noticed her pink sparkle nails were a little on the pointed side.  Manicure from big sis?

“She said its better to twist and pull,” she rushed out.  It took a second to follow what she was alluding to and when he did, he grimaced. “She said it wouldn’t work as good on someone who’s wearing tight jeans like you, but if they’re wearing slacks then they’re fair game.”

“Huh.”  He shoved his hands in his pockets and pulled his jacket tight around his body.  Spike filed that little tidbit away on dirty pool for the next time he was planning on fighting the Slayer.  He might even concede to a pair of tightie whiteys beforehand just for the extra protection.

Suddenly, he had himself an armful of sweet smelling, baby girl and it just about freaked him the fuck out.  He shoved her away; running his tongue over his teeth to make sure his fangs hadn’t dropped

“What the fuck are you doing, little girl?” he snarled with all the menace possible in his predatory body.  She scrambled away, her blue eyes so big he was afraid he was going to trip over his feet and fall in.

“I just wanted to thank you for saving me and Buffy.”  She sniffled and it only made him madder.  Stupid little girl.  Didn’t she have any common sense?

“Dawn, come here.”

Spike glanced over to the couch.  The Slayer was perched carefully at the edge.  Her wig had fallen off and tendrils of blonde hair wisped around her face.  She was glaring at Spike with a mixture of implacable rage and cold terror.  He leered, rocking back on his heels.  He was gratified when her terror became more pronounced.  That’s right, baby.  ‘m the Big Bad.  She held out her hand and Snack Size scampered to her side.

“Slayer, you need to teach Li’l Bit not to get within snatching distance of the Big Bads.  She’s gonna end up someone’s tasty little snacklet.”  He was genuinely pissed off.  Snack Size shouldn’t be going around hugging strange men, even if they seemed human enough.  Christ!  Did the brat want to get taken?

Outside there was a ruckus.  The wooden crates and palates he used to block the door were being torn apart.  Buffy’s eyes skittered away when Angel called her name.  Spike barely displaced the air, he moved so quickly.  He caught the little girl by the shoulder, holding her before him as he stared down at the wide-eyed Slayer whose attention was now solely riveted on him.  Exactly where it should be.  Not on his poofter grandsire.

“I mean it, Slayer.  Keep Snack Size inside before someone decides to use her against you.”  He had no idea why he was giving the Slayer advice on anything, much less on how to keep her family safe.  A grieving slayer would be a sloppy slayer, then he could slide right in and have himself a real good day.  He couldn’t understand why the thought made him queasy.

“Let her go, Spike,” she demanded softly.  Almost as if she was afraid loud noises and quick movements would set him off.  She wasn’t wrong.

The last of the debris burst from the door.  Spike released Dawn and headed for an open window.  He knew he didn’t have a chance against the older vampire and the Slayer combined.  He launched himself onto the fire escape, but instead of leaping into the alley, he headed for the roof, extending his vampiric senses so he could listen.

“Are you injured?”  He heard Angel ask.  He assumed he directed the question at the Slayer, but he didn’t hear an answer.  Instead, the Slayer’s voice softened into a tone he never heard from her before.  Unsurprising, him being the enemy and all.

“You, okay?  Did he hurt you?”  Spike knew she as talking to Snack Size.

“No.  Why would he?”  Spike snorted.  The girl really didn’t have a lick of sense.

“Dawn, Spike’s a vampire.  A very bad one.  He’s dangerous.”  Spike smiled at the Slayer’s words.  After all, he was the Big Bad.

“He’s worse than dangerous.  You’re lucky he didn’t torture and drain you.”

“Angel,” Buffy snapped off his name with a hard edge.  Uh, oh.  Someone just earned themselves doghouse privileges.

Spike was furious.  Eat her, yeah.  That was fair.  But torture her?  She was just a little girl.  Torture was for bullies.  Men who picked on the weak, like the ones he staked with his namesake.  Little girls typically didn’t do anything to deserve being tortured.

“Did he do anything?”  Buffy was asking.

“No,” Dawn replied in a sweet, clear voice.  Spike could hear an edge of defensiveness and he wondered at it.  The Li’l Bit was probably worried about getting into trouble for breaking the first rule.  “All we did was talk.  He didn’t do anything except carry you in here when you fainted…like a girl.”  Wow.  It was truly amazing the amount of sarcasm twelve-year-olds could pack into a few simple words.

Spike snickered.  He could imagine the Slayer’s red-faced mortification.

“How long were we in here?”

“I dunno.  Like twenty minutes.”

“And he didn’t do anything?”  The Slayer was dripping with astonishment.  He could smell it all the way on the rooftop.  Spike commiserated.  He had the Slayer unconscious in his arms, utterly at his mercy, and she still lived.  Why?  Cuz he got distracted by a chatty little girl.  Someone, somewhere, hated him.

“He’s up to something, Buffy.  Playing you somehow.”

“What could possibly be the end game?” Buffy sounded somewhere between curious and awed.

“I don’t know.  To get the girl’s trust for some reason.  Maybe to seduce her to hurt you.”

“She’s twelve.”  Buffy was outraged and Spike concurred.  He could imagine Angel shrugging noncommittally and bile surged in his throat.  How dare the prick paint him with the same brush as him?  Spike liked his women to be women, not little girls.  Worse, now the Slayer would be eyeballing him with a whole new level of disgust when they next met on the battlefield.  Disgust, in general, didn’t bother him, but this kind did.

“The younger, the better.  More manageable,” Angel rumbled.  Spike fisted his hands, aching with the need to go back down and pummel his sire to death.

“That doesn’t really sound like Spike.”  Buffy sounded doubtful, and a tiny seed of hope flared in his chest.

“You don’t know him like I do.”

“We’ve fought,” Buffy interjected lamely, but Angel overrode her.

“Fighting someone isn’t knowing them, Buffy.”

Spike disagreed.  Fighting was an excellent way to get to know someone.  Who they protected and what they fought for showed their values as a person.  How they fought revealed their personality.  Whether or not they were wound tight or prone to fancy.  Sometimes Spike thought fighting far superior to conversation.  You couldn’t lie about whom you were while in a fight.  It was all revealed in the lines of the body.

“Well, I think you’re just a poophead.”

“Dawn,” Buffy gasped.  Spike covered his pleased laugh so Angel wouldn’t hear

“No!”  Dawn stomped her foot.  “Spike didn’t do a darn thing except help you and talk to me.  He might be dangerous like you say, but he’s nothing like Coach Hewlett.  He’s not a bad man like Mr. Bumpy over there is making him out to be.  I mean, gawd, project much.”

Spike tensed.  He didn’t know what he’d do if Angel attacked the little girl.  He shouldn’t, being all souled up and whatnot, but the Angelus he knew didn’t like to be smarted off too.  He guessed Snack Size had more of a handle on what it meant to be a bad man than she first let on.  Damn, prime time T.V.

“What are you talking about, Dawn?”

Spike resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  Maybe, the Slayer spent too much time slaying and not enough time being educated by Law and Order.

“Nuthin’.”  He could definitely hear her nervousness.  Angel must be giving her the hairy eyeball.  “Can we go home now?”

Spike didn’t wait to hear the answer.  He leapt to the roof of the next building, making his way back to Dru.  He hadn’t eaten that night, but it was just as well.  Too many snot-nosed little kiddies about anyways.  They’d probably give him indigestion.