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It was Tuesday, and Buffy was reclining against her wide polished desk, absently scratching at her neck while she eyed a painting of unknown origin.

She tilted her head to one side. The piece was nice, in her opinion, but was it worth her time? At the moment, a recently discovered Monet probably wouldn't rouse her interest enough to inspire more than another perfunctory head tilt.

She could learn all the details about this oil painting, including the estimated date of creation, and she would. Buffy would also pack up her things in under five minutes and jog out to her car in heels after locking up the office. Her secretary was just about to leave, and Buffy's skin had started to feel like it was too tight to fit around her bones hours ago.

It was getting late, and also safe to say she'd neglected to get anything of importance done today. Her workweek had been cut short by a full twenty-four hours already, but facing the remainder of it was still daunting, hardly something she was looking forward to.

Buffy let out a sigh that spoke of resigned, undiluted impatience, one very similar to the many others she had expelled today. Her first day back at the office since putting a "Sealed" stamp on her relationship with a certain vampire, and all Buffy could think about was Spike. There were no withdrawal pains, because the connection was satisfied with its permanence now, but constant hunger for your mate was not at all easy to deal with, either.

Her mind knew she had to work. She still had an appreciation for art that ran deep through her heart like a river. There was no doubt she enjoyed her job. Matters of love and the soul tended to fog a person's mind, though. While half of it told Buffy she needed to remain at the office, the other half completely understood her current strife.

It was the same half that craved Spike like a caffeine addict who'd gone without coffee for three days might crave an extra large latte with a shot of espresso on the side. Buffy felt out of place, like something big was missing and she should keep checking in the mirror to make sure all her limbs were attached, because something felt incomplete.

It also didn't help that Spike's emotions burned through her nearly as vivid as her own. He felt hers in turn, as well, and so that only increased the calamity of missing and being missed. Her mouth thirsted for his kiss, her stomach clenched numbly with longing for his fingers to run across it, and her high necked tank top chafed at the marks on her throat. Attempting to hide them was not going to be easy until the bruising faded.

Things might have been easier if Buffy could have run home on lunch break like she'd promised, but a meeting bled into that hour and held her hostage. Spike understood, of course, but he hadn't been happy about it.

Now, she hurriedly packed up her thin leather work satchel and clipped it shut. She grabbed her purse and keys. Buffy freed her hair of its tight bun as she walked out of her office and pulled the door closed. She stuck the key in the lock and gave it a rough twist, smiling as she finally headed to the elevators.

She couldn't wait to get home, couldn't wait to fly into Spike's waiting arms like a scene from a cheesy movie and then bolt up to the bedroom. She had other things to do before the night took over and shooed away objectivity, but she was a woman deprived, and trying to do anything before appeasing the ache inside her would be a futile attempt at best.

She pressed the elevator button and tapped her foot. A sudden rush of cold seized Buffy's muscles, hiking her shoulders up when someone called out her name.

*No, no, not again-*

"Anxious to get home to your honey?" Willow asked as she approached, face shining with a familiar smile.

"A little," Buffy murmured. She had gotten grilled about Spike the second she came into the office this morning. It was safe to say more questions could detain her long enough that she believed her blood might set itself on fire, and an impatient vampire could arrive to accompany her home, only to find her chatting with her boss.

Buffy certainly didn't mind talking about him, and Willow deserved to know the details when she'd given Buffy yet another generous day off. She had actually gotten lost in relaying descriptions of Spike to Willow before work forced them away from the topic. However, talking about him was not as good as seeing him.

Buffy wished her boss could bring up this topic again on another day. At present, the blonde was very lost in a sea of longing and impatience.

"I can tell," Willow commented, slanting her a knowing look. "You were practically giddy when talking about him earlier."

*Yeah, wish the elevator would hurry up.* Buffy's foot tapping quickened.

"What's his name again?"

"William," she replied. The elevator doors opened with a ding, and Buffy rushed inside.

"No, the nickname you mentioned. The one he usually goes by."

"Oh. Spike."

Willow leaned forward to press the lobby button before realizing it already glowed. "How'd he get that name?" she asked.

*Torturing people.* Buffy would rather not say, and bit her lip, nerves dancing and eagerness pouring off her in waves. If Spike knew she had learned why his gory past birthed that moniker, he'd probably faint- If he could. "I haven't asked him," Buffy said.

"Hmm," Willow replied absently, following behind Buffy when the elevator came to an easy halt and the doors spread open. "It's kind of a weird name. Not that your boyfriend is weird or anything. It's j-just 'Spike' is a little unusual."

Buffy smiled when Willow's voice gentled into a near murmur. Her friend did that when her mouth opened before her brain could catch up, and worried what she said might have been taken the wrong way. "Yeah, it kind of is." Buffy shrugged. "I'll have to ask him where he got it, then get back to you." Maybe she could tease him into a panic with the right question phrasing.

"Sounds good." Willow grinned in relief.

They stepped out of the building into sweet smelling California air, and when Buffy spotted her car, her feet were no longer her own.

She threw a "Bye Wills!" over her shoulder without waiting for a response, and hopped into the front seat of her vehicle. She pulled out of the parking lot before reaching into her purse and grabbing her cell phone.

Scratching at her shirt collar again, Buffy was about to call the house with her multitasking skills as she drove with her knees, when the device began ringing in her hand. "Hello?"

"Tell me you're on your way."

Spike's voice was like a heady welcome home, and she wasn't even there yet. "Driving in the car right now," she said.

"Don't run any red lights."

Buffy snorted. "You're such a law abiding citizen, Spike."

"Just because you say it doesn't make it true, baby."

"Afraid I'll crash?" she asked.

"Afraid you'll get pulled over," he said with a glower in his voice. "Don't fancy extending this separation any longer."

"Me neither." Buffy looked up in time to slam on the breaks as a guy in a Toyota cut her off. She gasped reflexively and slammed cruelly on the car horn. "Asshole," she muttered.

Spike's worry sounded in her ear. "Buffy, what happened?!"

"I'm fine," she said, and continued driving. "Some jerk cut me off."

"Bloody hell, be careful!"

"He's the one that did the cutting off," she stressed, but smiled suddenly, all irritation miraculously evaporating when his concern registered. "You are worried about me getting into an accident."

"Of course I am! Could just eat a sodding cop," he muttered. "Now be quick about getting home, but watch the bleeding road."

"Well, since you said please," Buffy replied sweetly.

Spike let out a small growl that was both predatory and irritated. "When you get your ass back here..."

"Looking forward to it! Hanging up now."

Doing just that and tossing the cell phone back in her purse, Buffy giggled and imagined Spike's expression. She rushed home but was careful not to miss any stop signs, even if she did ignore the speed limit for the majority of the drive. Upon pulling up to the house, she noticed a telltale shift in the living room curtains.

She parked haphazardly in the driveway and practically flung herself out of her car. Or rather, her borrowed car. Buffy's was at the mechanic and she'd managed to rent a loner. It was small and simple and clean, and it ran, which was all she cared about. All Spike cared about was that its back wheels weren't going to fall off.

That had been yesterday; that, and then most of the night spent lying in Spike's arms. There had been no time this morning to lose themselves in each other like they so loved to do. Between such restraints, and her not-so-successful lunch break, the claim was in a tizzy.

Buffy bolted up her deck stairs and fumbled with her keys, dropping them on the mat and cursing. She'd just picked them up when the front door opened and she was hauled inside.

Her bags thrown against the wall to slide down and land in a pile, her keys tossed onto the table at her right, the door slamming, and Buffy sighed when Spike's lips immediately found hers.

Her arms came around him, and they worked their way upstairs in a flurry of legs and groping hands, until the vampire finally picked her up and ran the rest of the way. A door shut and bed springs squeaked, and Buffy and Spike paid little attention to the hours that wore on.

***

Something like ripples in a river, time spread out into nothingness, elapsing in shadow behind moans and sighs. It wasn't until Buffy eyed the clock that she noticed it was thirty minutes after seven.

Fortunately, not too late to call Dawn. Buffy wanted to talk with her today, as Spike and she had managed to dissect a variety of different ways to approach the waiting topics.

Spike was a massive support when she was wigging, and it was just another reason Buffy loved him. He was here, he gave her strength she wasn't aware she had, and just by kissing her forehead or holding her in silence when her mind tried to choke itself. He was the reason Buffy had decided not to put this off, and had the courage to pick up the phone and call her sister when she did.

"You want me to come over?" Dawn asked, with a little hesitancy in her voice derived from purely unexplainable and eerie intuition.

"Yes," Buffy said, "I have some stuff that... Well, there are some things I should tell you."

A beat, the kind that made your heart do double time in your chest. Then, "Is this about Spike?"

Buffy pressed her lips together before letting out a quiet, nervous breath. "Kind of." The silence on the other end of the line spoke a question. "Partly," Buffy amended.

"What, are you two moving in together or something?"

Her mouth opened and closed in a rather fish-like motion. "Actually," she laughed anxiously, "we sort of... already have."

"What?!"

A screeching macaw had nothing on Dawn sometimes. "We-"

"I thought the relationship, was like, new," she exclaimed. "How are you guys living together?!"

"One of the many things I'll explain once you get over here." Impatience probably wasn't her right, at the moment, but sometimes implications couldn't be helped.

"Don't get irritated with me, Buffy, you just dropped a bomb."

She sighed again. "I know, Dawn. And I'm sorry, but I really do need- need to explain everything. Can you come over? Please?"

"Of course," Dawn exclaimed. "I deserve a complete rundown, thank you very much."

"You'll have it. I promise."

"I'll be there in like, thirty minutes."

"Are you bringing Xander?" she had to ask. Buffy knew he'd learn of everything sooner or later, and that was preferred. She'd like him to know; she just felt Dawn should know first.

"He's busy, and you and I both want me to come over now, so no I'm not bringing him." A rushed, agitated sigh tickled Buffy's ear through the line. Dawn's voice split the moment wide open when she asked, "I don't know if I'm crazy here, but... Does anything you're going to tell me have to do with dad?"

A recognizable, crestfallen sensation filled up her chest. "How'd you guess?"

"I had a feeling," Dawn muttered.

Buffy swallowed. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay."

She set the phone down, and arms wrapped around Buffy's middle like a protective rain coat, guarding her from a downpour. She sank into Spike's hold, and pure respite kept her on her feet.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

She snuggled deeper into his embrace. "You're doing it."

Spike's grip tightened. She could share everything with him, the softer side of her fears, the vulnerability behind every need. Dread that typically came with loving someone, the kind that knotted in her stomach when she went to sleep at night because her lover might not be there when she woke, was nonexistent. There was none with him, and it had very little to do with the claim.

If she were honest, Buffy believed wholeheartedly Spike was the one person who would never leave, no matter what.

She trusted her vampire more than she'd ever trusted any man. Not only because of Spike's devotion, his refusal to let her go, but because he held onto her heart like a clutch. Love had almost nothing to do with trust; you could always have one without the other, though you shouldn't.

She was safe with him. She knew that like she knew the sun set in the west and rose in the east. It resonated throughout every nerve in her body as undoubted fact, and Buffy trusted him.

She trusted Spike simply because she did, not a single claim-y thing about it. Maybe she let him hold her because he never expected anything of her. She could be weak and he would keep her up when her knees gave out. He never wanted her to be anything but herself. He saw her strength, treasured it and fed it like a caretaker, but he never put her on a pedestal. He never expected Buffy to fight on her own because he would always be there to help, but similarly knew that she could.

Spike would never yank her back when she asked him to stand behind her as she moved into battle, no matter how figurative the war. She could always count on him, to be at her side, to support her silently from the shadows. He was always there. Always.

"I love you," she said. Buffy felt warmth spread through her chest and knew it belonged not just to herself.

"I love you, too." It flowed through each syllable, zealous honesty in his voice.

Spike didn't tell her everything would be all right with Dawn, even if perhaps he wanted to. Maybe if he knew her sister better, but he didn't, and that was okay. The words wouldn't make Buffy feel much more than uncertain and edgy.

Something told her Spike had figured that out.

***

It was too soon that the doorbell rang. Darla had gone into the living room to spend time looking through the newspaper at apartment listings, and likewise home-hunt on her laptop. She was the one who answered the door.

Darla knew what was coming, and so offered her support to Buffy without actually butting in. Her friend was going to have to speak to Dawn in private.

The woman murmured hello before promptly asking where her sister was. "She's probably in the kitchen," Darla said.

She threw a glance in that direction, but returned almost immediately with a wary expression in her big eyes. "Is Spike here?"

Darla nodded, trying not to convey any of the concern she felt. She smiled softly. "I think Buffy will ask him to give you two some privacy."

Dawn rose an eyebrow, her gaze turning sharp. "Why? I want to grill his ass, too."

Darla was seldom surprised, but all of a sudden, she found herself fighting back amusement. Laughter would be hardly appropriate at the moment. "I'm sure he'll let you," she said. The mental image of Spike getting questioned by Buffy's younger sister lightened the tense energy in the room significantly. At least, for her. Dawn still looked like a panther trapped in a cage. "Kitchen?"

The lady stared into Darla's encouraging eyes. "Don't you think it's strange? Them moving in together so quickly?"

Darla tilted her head. "I know I'm usually the first person to speak my mind, but in this case you might not like what you hear."

Dawn frowned. "You don't think it's strange."

Darla just shook her head.

A sigh, an eye roll, and Dawn finally managed to tiptoe into the dining room. Darla stayed behind when she entered the kitchen.

Instantly assaulted by the scents of coffee and strong herbal tea, Dawn stopped dead. Spike and Buffy were sitting at the island sharing a laugh as they drank from two novelty mugs.

Dawn observed their carefree conversation while standing unnoticed in the doorway. She watched pleasure so pure it quieted her hectic thoughts play out between them, a glow in Buffy's eyes that mirrored the one in Spike's. It looked like there had never been two people so caught up in one another.

All of a sudden, the spell was broken. The bleached man who'd so obviously stolen her sister's heart set down his mug and turned in Dawn's direction, his peaceful expression filling with sober acknowledgment. He cleared his throat and reached for Buffy's hand the same moment she turned, as well.

She stood up, abandoning her coffee cup on the island. Dawn noticed how Spike's fingers interlocked with hers and Buffy squeezed his hand. It was novel, witnessing the strongest and most loyal woman Dawn knew, draw strength from someone else. It was so unambiguous, and so natural, that she was once again hit with a feeling of realization.

She realized she was frowning, for one, but couldn't seem to stop. Weighty suspicion evaporated from her heart and shoulders, infinite clarity robbed her of breath, and it hit as shockingly as a bucket of water that Spike loved her sister. He loved Buffy in return.

A soft scowl remained frozen on Dawn's face. The room didn't move.

"Could you give us a minute, Spike?" Buffy said, breaking the silence.

Her brows went up; all right, she'd have to grill him later.

He looked between the two women. "You sure, love?"

"I'm sure." She smiled reassuringly, and Dawn was almost positive he was still reluctant to leave. Even as Spike nodded and walked around the island, worry lined his eyes. He passed Buffy on the way to press a tender yet passionate kiss against her cheek.

He stepped in front of Dawn before leaving and gave her a respectful smile, pausing as she moved aside so he could get by. "Good seeing you again, pet."

"Yeah. Same here," she barely managed to say, and Spike gave her a funny look, most likely due to her scratchy voice. But then he left, and it was just her and Buffy.

Dawn crossed her arms. It was easy to breathe now and the kitchen didn't feel so small, but something like an invisible rope wrapped itself around her sibling's shoulders and made Buffy look very much like she needed to get some fresh air before she passed out.

Instead, she just asked, "Want some tea?"

Dawn shook her head. She had been cutting back on caffeine because of the baby, but frankly, she always felt there were exceptions to rules. "Coffee; I have a feeling I'm going to need it."

***

It was strange how so much could be discussed within the confines of one room. The island looked like a dull white ocean beneath their elbows, and the floor seemed much too narrow to support the weight of secrets told.

Yet somehow, the walls didn't cave in and the room managed. Questions concerning Hank were asked first, but eventually, Buffy got Dawn to shy away from that subject for the time being. "We'll get back to him," she promised, "but I need to tell you about some Spike-stuff first."

Dawn folded her hands in her lap, displaying patient refusal to even think of leaving before she heard all there was to hear, and waited.

Buffy had already told a white lie some time ago portraying how Spike popped into her life. It would have been silly to assume, after such an impromptu meeting between them, that Dawn would never ask questions about him. The fact those questions never pried further than the length of a ruler was just luck.

Now was not only the time for an in-depth questionnaire, but for telling the whole story.

"You've known him how long?" Buffy cringed at the utter disbelief in Dawn's voice. Once upon a time, she'd been the one to use that tone of voice, not her little sister.

Dawn went seriously mother hen on her. Which confused Buffy immediately, of course; playing the adult was her job.

It took a while to calm Dawn's bemused mind. There were many reasons, after all, that Spike and Buffy's relationship progressed at the rate it had, and despite how speedy it looked, their decision to live together was nothing compared to everything else.

Yes, they talked about it. Yes, they were living in the house. No, he didn't have a lot of stuff to move in. No, he wasn't mooching off her. Yes, he was helping with the bills, and yes, ALL of them.

"He's a writer. Isn't that what you told me?" Dawn worried. "Does he make good money?"

Yes, he could afford it.

No, he wasn't actually a writer, but Buffy kept that to herself for now.

Spike told her about the poetry he used to compose, sometimes still found himself forced by unknown spirits inside him to get the "drivel" down on paper. A shy, downcast look accompanied a hand running through his hair as he explained: "Bloody inconvenient, it is. Not very good, either. Just something I find myself doing to pass the time every now and then." He didn't show her any of it, but Buffy knew, sooner or later, she would steal a peek.

So yes, her boyfriend was a writer, just not in the manner of which Dawn thought he was. And yes, the vampire had managed to put quite a bit of money away over the years.

Yet another thing Buffy would have to explain to her sister, but not today. That one could wait until after Dawn had wrapped her head around... everything else. The important parts.

So much for the whole story plan.

Now, Spike was working on a very fictional poetic novel, and bartending. The last, Buffy threw in off the top of her head. He'd mentioned that sometimes he filled in for a friend at some dive place called "Willy's" but that was a far as Spike's barkeep skills went in reality.

Once it was finally established that Buffy and her boyfriend knew what they were doing with this whole living together business, Dawn heaved a great sigh and rubbed her still flat abdomen. It was hard to imagine there was so much changing and going on at once. A baby on the way, her older sister seemingly settling down for once with a guy, a new guy whom Dawn didn't know much about, and all the recent drama with their father; it was enough to scare anybody.

The brunette took a sip of her coffee, and squared her shoulders. If there was one thing Buffy admired about Dawn, it was that bottomless well of strength she retained inside. Dawn had once said that she "took after her older sister." Buffy was unsure whether it would ever be possible to look upon herself with such admiration.

As a matter of fact, she had to bow her head every time she thought about their dad. The sooner she explained things on that front, the better.

Before Buffy knew it, all mundane questions regarding her love life had been answered, with resulting proof of Dawn's loyalty, and it was time to talk about vampires.

"Spike's a what?"

Buffy looked into a face stilled by unruffled boredom. She took a shaky breath, and repeated herself. "A vampire."

Dawn snorted. "What, you mean like the terrorizing small towns, living in coffins, turning into bats thing?"

The claim must really have taken root, because Buffy actually felt borrowed annoyance at Dawn's tawdry description. *'Tawdry?' Jeez, someone's sensitive.*

Buffy ignored Spike's figurative huff and grumble in her head, nodding. Dawn rose her brows and smiled with amusement. "The drinking blood, afraid of crosses, can't walk around during the day, Dracula type creature-feature? The kind that-"

"Yes," Buffy cut her off. "That kind of thing. Spike is a vampire. An undead, can't walk in the sunlight, creature-feature who lives on blood."

Well then. Not so hard to explain when she rushed it all out like that.

Dawn started laughing.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't hard because she wasn't being taken seriously. "I'm not joking, Dawn."

"Sure!" Her giggling increased in volume, a joyous sound that was determined to blow the wind out of Buffy's sails.

"I'm not kidding."

"Buffy, c'mon!" she exclaimed. "I know Spike couldn't have convinced you he's really a vampire. Like some movie monster. They aren't real and I don't think you'll ever convince me that they are, so quit the joke."

Buffy let out a deep sigh that almost broke the noise of Dawn's dying snickers. "How long have we lived in Sunnydale, Dawn?"

She blinked. "What?"

"Long enough to know that there's something not normal about this place, right?"

Dawn's expression sobered little by little. "Well, yeah, but-"

"Didn't we agree not to go out alone after dark when we were younger? Didn't we convince mom not to do the same thing?" Buffy continued.

"Yeah," she admitted.

"We both know there's something weird about Sunnydale, Dawn. How many kids can you remember not graduating high school with us because they were killed?"

Frowning now, gazing with concern at her oh so serious sister, Dawn said, "That doesn't mean they were killed by vampires, Buffy."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "An awful lot of them were found with holes in their neck."

Dawn rose a mocking brow at the caustic tone of voice, crossing her arms. "So what are you telling me? That Sunnydale is the vampire capital of the world and your boyfriend's the mayor?"

"No." Buffy stood up from her chair and walked towards the dining room. "Just a vampire." She yanked Spike into the kitchen from where he stood right outside the door.

"Easy on the goods, Goldilocks," he said, but noted with satisfaction that Buffy was most definitely getting stronger. Her frustrated hold actually managed to cause a twinge of pain, though he knew she hadn't intended it.

"I need you to change for her," she demanded.

Spike eyed the dubious looking woman sitting by the island before glancing Buffy's way again. "You sure? She might scream-"

"Spike, just do it!"

He rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. Upon shifting into demon visage, a predicted yelp came from the center of the kitchen right before Dawn fell off her chair.

There she was, on the floor in a heap of nervous energy and bent limbs. Buffy rushed forward and Dawn numbly allowed her to help her up, eyes still riveted on the monster in the doorway. "What- What is that?"

Buffy looked lost, suddenly unsure as she turned her panicky gaze towards him. Spike groaned and shook his fangs off, meeting Dawn's fearful expression. "Vampire, pet. We get two faces."

Those owl eyes had now doubled in size. Clutching Buffy's arm in a death grip, Dawn looked back and forth between the couple in shock. "That wasn't really- Buffy, Tell me what that was. How'd he do that?"

Spike could see she just barely managed to keep from rolling her pretty green eyes when his mate said, "He's not human, Dawn."

A scowl arose. "I want to see it again," she said.

Spike shifted before Dawn even glanced his way, but when she did, she gasped like her head had just risen above water after nearly drowning, and yelled, "That can't be real! How did you-"

"It's real," Buffy returned, her tone making the words sound like an admonishment. "He's not going to hurt you."

Dawn locked eyes with Buffy. "I doubt that you'd be holding me right now if he was." She looked once again at Spike, and when her breathing slowed down he took a hesitant step closer.

She didn't step away, but tension rolled off her in ripples. "You're a monster."

Buffy sighed again. "He's a monster, but he's... he's good."

"Don't know about that," Spike half muttered. He couldn't really gainsay her, though; after all, Buffy was his reason for playing the part of being a "good" soulless creature, even if he wasn't so by nature.

She threw him a withering glance, but still said, "Sort of good."

Dawn looked worried. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's means I'm no bleeding saint," Spike said, "but I don't hurt people anymore."

Her already cartoonish stare grew wider still. " 'Anymore?' "

"Right."

"That's reassuring."

"Okay," Buffy interrupted. "Dawn, look he isn't a threat. He's a vampire but, not typical."

"You can say that again, love."

Buffy pursed her lips in annoyance upon noticing his toothy smirk, but then Dawn spoke up again. "You're dating a- a vampire," she acknowledged. It sounded like she didn't believe her own words.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you." The murmur cut through the tension in the room somehow, like a sprinkle of water to a fainted woman's face, clearing away alarm. Buffy felt Dawn relax in her embrace before deciding to sit down.

"Your face looks familiar," Dawn nearly whispered. The statement jerked on Spike's and Buffy's attentions like a leash.

"I what?" the vampire asked.

"It- The fangs, the ridges," she said pensively. "It all looks like I've seen it before-" A gasp cut her words off abruptly.

Buffy frowned. "What is it?"

Dawn turned to her with a deer caught in headlights expression, then back to Spike. A new interest and awareness had entered her eyes, rather like sunglow from behind a curtain. "The guy who attacked me. He had that face- Like your face."

Spike shifted uncomfortably and blinked his demon back behind a human countenance. He shrugged a shrug Buffy could only describe as cramped. "Prick was a vampire," he said.

Dawn's shoulders dropped and the silent breath that whooshed through her lips seemed to pull a large amount of starch with it, limping her spine to the point where the island helped keep her upright. "I thought it wasn't real- I thought my mind was just playing tricks on me... so I ignored it."

"You're not the first," Spike said.

Dawn looked down in self disappointment. "He wasn't trying to rob me." She met Spike's gaze again. "Was he?"

"Not likely, love, though he probably would've nicked your wallet after-"

"Spike!" Buffy interjected.

"It's okay, Buffy," Dawn promised. "I need to be more careful from now on- Now that I know..." She looked pointedly at the man in the room.

Buffy placed a supportive hand on her arm. There seemed to be a rift in the waves, a calming in the currents as Dawn finally took everything in. Absorbing the realities with their heavy fairytale qualities and dark shadows.

There was no easy way to segue to their father, but it felt like Buffy should try. Now, before more topics arose that might upset Dawn's open mind.

The woman suddenly opened her mouth to ask, rather loudly, "Does Darla know?"

Startled, Buffy went to call her friend in when footsteps came from the dining room. Darla slipped into the kitchen and walked straight up to Dawn, and when she was merely a foot away, she showed her fangs.

Dawn didn't scream this time, but she did jump about two feet in the air. "Oh my God!"

Darla was obviously fighting not to snicker, but Spike had no compunctions, and his amusement was a backdrop to the big reveal. "I know," the she-vamp said. "And now you know."

Buffy let out a loud sigh. "Before you ask, I promise I'm not a member of the undead fang-having population, okay?"

Dawn looked up at her and nodded. "Good to know," she squeaked. Turning back to Darla, she asked, "When did you-"

"Right before I moved away." She shrugged. "I'm moving back now, though. Something made me miss Sunnydale."

"That's great," Dawn replied stiffly.

Realizing they were all getting off topic, Buffy quickly latched onto unspoken facets of the things that were literally staring Dawn right in the face.

And her sister gave her the perfect opening. "Is there anyone else I know who's a vampire?"

Darla's face shifted and Spike's back stiffened.

He would stay if Buffy wanted him to, but that would just make things harder.

The silence was telling for a woman who had all senses worked up, so it took only seconds for Dawn to question the identity of the third hidden vampire.

It didn't take very long to answer her question, just long enough to hurt her.
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