Spike roused early the next evening, just before sunset. Rest had come easily at dawn, after he and Buffy spoke in the night. And he hadn't ventured - didn't know where he'd go, even if he would - instead he made use of the things she had brought.

  He'd asked for cigarettes, a razor to shave with. The man wasn't sure if that had been asking too much. He had naught with which to pay her back as far as Spike was aware after all; but, mercifully, Buffy hadn't teased Spike too much about it.

  The supplies that Buffy had brought back were alien to him. He'd spent a long time just staring at the things that came in plastic packets, but when he shrugged and decided to just go ahead and try and put things to use, it turned out he knew how to shave, even if he didn't remember ever having done so. His knowledge of the actions remained. It was a pleasant surprise amid the symphony of chaos. Spike found that though his memories had been destroyed, his knowledge had survived despite that. Spike had wondered - as he shaved his jaw, his, 'stupid', defined jaw, as it were - what else he might have known, but forgotten? ... He had almost asked for a mirror to shave with, then realised how silly that would have been. He had a good private laugh about that odd thought.

  He did wonder, too, how it was that needed to shave at all, if he was dead? He supposed his hair must grow out too, maybe he'd need to bleach it again, but how would Spike know if he should? You'd think, he thought, that at least being dead would free me from the monotony of shaving.

  He'd barely lit a cigarette, finding himself with a lighter in his hand and flicking it for flame, before his brain could catch up with his hands, without even thinking about it, when he heard the front door opening just as the last sliver of sun bled out behind the rooftops. No knock. Front door opened with a key and his blue eyes looked up from the lighter, alert and thinking on trouble.

  "What do you think you're doing back h-" Spike heard Buffy as she began to speak from the downstairs, but she was cut off before Buffy could finish.

  "I'm not staying away another night!" Came the retort and Spike bent his head to his cupped hands again, lips smiling around his cigarette as he breathed the heat of that little flame. Dawn.

  "I'm not, and you can't make me!" Dawn cut in before Buffy could speak.

  "Dawn, we talked about this: It's not safe yet." He heard Buffy speak, thought that, perhaps, she sounded frustrated or impatient, Spike was not getting in the middle of what was happening between them, even if he was happy to hear Dawn had decided to come back again. That little rebellion made him feel oddly satisfied, like he could feel pride, that Dawn wasn't listening to rules... That she was sure of him... Spike lent against the windowsill.

  "It’s safe enough for you to sleep under the same roof as him. It’s safe enough for you to feed him. It’s safe enough for you to go and patrol or whatever and leave him alone for hours. But it’s not safe enough for me?" Dawn's voice broke when he heard it, Spike pulled the cigarette from his lips and wiped his mouth in thought, but he stayed right where he was; perched on the windowsill, one knee drawn up, staring out at the darkening street. He didn’t move. Didn’t want to interrupt whatever storm was brewing downstairs.

  "That’s different." He heard Buffy say adamantly, voice raising slightly at her little sister, not giving an inch.

  "How?" Dawn was not intimidated, in fact, it sounded to Spike like the more Buffy tried to enforce rules, the more Dawn rebelled against her. Maybe he was misgauging things, he didn't know the girls so well after all, he didn't remember them. Spike opened the window a crack while he smoked without thinking, aiming the smoke out the window.

  "Because I’m the Slayer. Because if something goes wrong, I can stop it." Buffy retorted and there was that word again, the one that clearly had more meaning than he could have possibly assigned to that word at first. Slayer... What's a Slayer?

  He wondered at that, as Dawn and Buffy's voices carried from the downstairs up to where he sat, framed by the night, perched like he was posing against the windowsill for an empty room, ringing hollow and filled with nothing but smoke.

  "You think he’s going to attack me? After everything? After he caught two crossbow bolts for me? After you all had a meeting in the same house to decide what to do about him? After he stood there and let Xander yell in his face and threaten to dust him last night and didn’t even try to bite him?" Dawn demanded and hearing that Spike’s fingers tightened on the cigarette. Eyes sharpened. Buffy didn’t answer right away... He forced himself to breathe out, then slowly the cigarette was brought back to his lips. He breathed in, then out again. He's her friend. Spike told himself. He was doing his best to not to rush out and speak his mind. He wanted to defend Dawn. He's not a threat... You're the threat... That's why you're stuck in a lady's bedroom you pillock. He thought with an edge of self-mocking. He didn't remember what Spike had been like, but everyone acted like he was the monster. So they must have been right, he thought.

  "You heard about that." Spike heard Buffy, when she finally spoke again. Her voice quieter that time than she had been, words in statement, not in question.

  "Dawn, I'm worried. What if he remembers?" Buffy said. Spike closed his eyes. But Dawn, the little Bit was not easily convinced, not as easily as Spike himself had been.

  "You still don't trust him! You never trusted him, that's what this is, and no matter what Spike did or will do, you just can't let go of what he did in the past. Well, I think it's time you get. Over it!" Dawn's footsteps were quick, angry, heading for the stairs.

  "I'm not scared! Spike protected me." Dawn said and with that, her feet carried her up the stairs.

  "Dawn!" Buffy called up, after Dawn, Dawn, who also burst into his room without bothering to knock. Must run in the family Spike thought, because there Dawn stood; backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes bright and defiant like she’d won some invisible argument on the walk over. His eyes focused on the empty space behind her, heard Buffy’s quick steps from the kitchen, heard her then huff in frustration - but Buffy didn't follow Dawn upstairs. Spike heard her from upstairs. Dawn smiled in triumph and he heard the soft thump of her bag when she tossed it down, and it hit the floor.

  "Hey" Dawn said. He straightened, slid off the sill in one fluid motion and moved to the door where she'd been standing still.

  "Hey, Bit." Spike greeted her and she smiled. She stared at him. Then past him, into the empty room. Then back. He was happy to see her. Safe, just fine, no reason for you to be worrying. He told himself, not sure what the right thing to do was so he just stood, offered his presence but didn't push, didn't know what Dawn and Buffy would need more right then. Dawn fidgeted a moment, before she spoke again.

  "You heard all that?" Dawn asked, indicating the way back through the open door and down the stairs. Spike heard as Buffy had gotten on the phone, presumably, because she was having a one-sided conversation telling the other end that Dawn was there, that no it was fine, and yeah, she was sure.

  "Vampire hearing, Bit." He said and reached past her, his free hand closing the door, so that the Nibblet wouldn't have to hear Buffy talking about her. Spike had suffered it since his ears had stopped ringing on those first nights, and he shielded Dawn from the same fate. At least, in add as of as much as he can. He'd protect her.

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  "Hard to miss." He explained, but Dawn just huffed.

  "Jeeze, creepy much?" She said and hit the lights, pushing past him and moving into the room, no fear anywhere on her.

  "Do you like, never turn the lights on?" Dawn teased, and Spike had to force himself not to smile, because what did you know? Little mini Buffy.

  "Your sis is just worried about you, from the sounds of things, she's right to." He said and took one dying pull from the cigarette, flicking it expertly into the ashtray that had been provided for him, Spike having no idea how unlikely it would have been for a human to have aim like that.

  "I'm not afraid of you." Dawn said defiantly, her long hair pushed back and her arms crossed, and the way Dawn glared at him then? He imagined that Dawn was looking at him more like an annoying sibling, rather than the rabid thing, that most everyone else saw. It warmed his unbeating heart.

  "I know you think I should be. But I'm not. Everyone else does - but I'm not." Dawn insisted. Spike kept his expression almost serious as he moved to the far wall, leaning against it there. He wanted to make sure she wasn't scared. Just in case Dawn wasn't quite as fearless as she had professed. He didn't want to frighten her, just in case...

  "Shouldn't you be scared?" He asked, asked genuinely. Because, shouldn't she be?

  "Like you said, everyone else is." Spike went on, reminding her, how all of Buffy's friends - hell, Buffy included - were acting like Spike was just a bomb with a short fuse just ready to explode at any second!

  "Maybe." He watched Dawn say as she lifted her chin.

  "But I'm not. And I'm staying. So deal with it." She said and he had to fight a smile, lost that struggle, as it tugged at the corner of Spike's mouth and he just couldn't help it. He ducked his head in a poor attempt to hide it, how pleased he was - that the Nibblet had decided to stay - that Dawn completely trusted him.

  "Bossy little thing, aren't you?" He said as he lifted his head, grinning at her, expression smug even across the room.

  "Bit of a rebel in you, too." He said like it was a compliment, because somehow, it definitely was.

  "I learned from the best." Dawn laughed, and she didn't hesitate then. She stepped forward and threw her arms around Spike. She pressed herself into a fierce, happy hug, her smiling face pressed to his chest. Spike froze with his arms hovering, just for a moment, because that uncertainty quickly thawed. Then, oh-so-carefully, he slowly wrapped his arms around her. Protective, careful, but caring, Spike let out a huff as Dawn hugged him and he actually figured out he could hug her back.

  "I'm right here, Nibblet. Nothing's going to happen to you." He told her and the words felt the most certain than anything else since the moment he woke up without memories in that brief ordered moment. Dawn pulled back and he almost let her go, but she didn't pull back far, eyes red-rimmed as she looked up at the vampire who had been willing to die in order to save her.

  "Don't let them chase you away." Dawn whispered and he frowned, so determined and stubborn a moment ago, yet the little Bit looked so small as she asked him not to leave.

  "Even if you remember. Even if it's bad. Promise you won't leave. Okay?" She pushed her face back against his chest, before he could see the tears spill from her doll-like eyes, felt the prickle of damp on his chest and caught the faint scent of salt anyway.

  "Don't... don't leave." Dawn cried and it wrenched at him, he hated seeing either of these girls in pain, he hugged her again.

  "Not planning on it, Nibblet." He told her, wished he could promise, but he pat her head carefully wanting to try and console her.

  "That's not a promise!" Dawn shouted from where she cried against his chest. Spike made a sound almost like a laugh at that, because it was so stubborn and bratty, even when she was sad, and he told himself he shouldn't feel protective of her stubborn behaviour too - even when he was.

  "No, I suppose it's not, Bit." He put his hands on her shoulders, pulling her back slightly, trying to catch her eyes. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, Spike crouched in front of her, his hands on her shoulders, still, holding her steady.

  "You know your big sis' mates don't want me here..." He told her, didn't know why he wasn't just lying to her, why he talked to her like she understood. And yet, to his surprise, Dawn gave a nod - like she wasn't a child - like she understood.

  "I know. But they're wrong! You're not a monster," She cried and it was like a stab at his ribs. The way she'd said it: quiet, and certain. He frowned, let out a long breath through his nose, still holding steady, even when he couldn't feel as sure as Dawn. She shrugged and Spike felt like she saw right through him, as her words answered the question that he'd only had in thought, not word:

  "Not to me." Dawn said. She didn't see him as a monster, this little Bit was looking at the man like he was a hero.

  "I'm not going anywhere if I can help it, Bit." He promised her, he could promise that much at least. And it looked like, maybe, he'd said the right thing finally; because Dawn managed to smile and to stop crying when he promised.

  She pulled away and wiped her eyes again then, asking him what he'd been doing all this time, asking about the duster that had been slung over the headboard of the bed, asked what had happened when Xander had come over. Dawn told him about school and how boring it was, how she wanted to come back right away, she complained about the cigarettes and offered to paint his nails. She didn't have black, but maybe he could try another colour - apparently, Spike only ever painted his nails black, according to Dawn.

  "Not going to get the chance, Nibblet." Spike said to her, seated on the floor with his back against the end of the bed, as Dawn had been about to paint his nails, when Buffy had walked in.

  "Really, neither of you seems to know how to knock." Spike told Buffy where she stood, but Buffy ignored him. He thought, No manners, either of these girls.

  "I'm not staying away!" Dawn said at the sight of Buffy's annoyed expression, not even waiting to hear a word that was going to come from Buffy. But Buffy, she gave a sigh. A long, exhausted, resigned, sigh... Then, with one more pass of those fierce green eyes over the pair of them, where Spike and Dawn sat about to get his nails done, Buffy softened.

  "Fine. But you’re sleeping in my room tonight." Buffy mumbled and Dawn jumped up, rushing over to Buffy and giving her a hug.

  "Yes!" Dawn cheered, making Buffy's eyes roll, but as Spike rose to his feet, he caught it, that little smile Buffy wore.

  "It's getting late, don't you have homework?" Buffy asked Dawn in favour of showing weakness to the whims of the teenager, so Dawn released Buffy and grabbed her bag from the floor. Dawn turned to head down the stairs, but stopped and called over her shoulder to the vampire.

  "I’m raiding the fridge! You want anything?" Dawn asked and Spike managed a rough laugh.

  "I'm alright for now, thanks." He assured her before Dawn disappeared down the stairs, her feet pitter-pattering down the steps in quick succession her mood lifted as she'd been able to return to her own home. Back, with her sister, and her protector, her worries seemed to all dissolve and vanish for her. Spike smiled, he was glad, more that Dawn was in such a good mood at last. He realised that Buffy was staring at him, green eyes trying to read into his expression. He straightened.

  "Hey, I didn't know she was coming back." He said as he raised his hands defensively, speaking calmly as he assured he hadn't known what Dawn had planned. Spike, from the way Buffy looked at him, suspected that Buffy must have been mad.

  "Uh-huh. And... were you going to tell her to listen to her big sister before, or after the manicure?" Buffy said with attitude, but then, Spike wondered whether he'd been wrong about her again. Maybe, she wasn't mad? He'd tilted his head a fraction, ever so slightly, just trying to figure her out. It made those green eyes dart to his jaw.

  "You shaved." Buffy realised. He raised his hand and rubbed his chin, thumb lingering at the sharp line of it.

  "Yeah." He said simply, Buffy offering a nod.

  "Looks good." Buffy said, and Spike had no idea if that had been normal for her to say or not. He didn't remember. He just took the compliment without complaint, hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans. He wondered if he accidentally looked smug because Buffy shook her head at him before she retreated out the door again.

  "I'll get you some blood, later. After me and Dawn have a little talk." She said and headed down the stairs as well. Spike stood there a moment longer. Listening to Dawn rummage through cabinets. Listening to Buffy giving a speech about responsibility. Spike thought, he'd felt the house shift around him then, as he went back to the bed and lay back on it - settling, accepting - even if just for tonight.

  He breathed in the night, the quiet it wasn't so loud any more, not the screaming quiet of nothing he'd been cut up by most nights, and underneath the quiet, the steady thump of two human heartbeats: One small and stubborn, one more powerful and carrying on. And, him. Promising Dawn he wouldn't leave if he had any choice, echo of the promise he didn't remember, but had decided Spike would keep. For as long as the fog stayed thick, for as long as he could he still chose, he would.