Riley wasn’t quite sure how he had got into this situation. He had come to town about two weeks ago now and somehow, he seemed to have become the centre of the group. At first, he had been uncomfortable with their reliance on him, but he soon came to realise that it was because they needed someone to take charge. He was surprisingly ready to step up to the plate when it came to this – hoping that, just maybe, he might be able to be anywhere near as good a leader as Buffy had been.

It was difficult though, remembering that these were not his men he was in control of. If he was honest, he had got out of the habit of being around civilians and sometimes he thought it showed – especially with Dawn. She was so angry with him but she was so much like her sister even in that. He tried everything he could to help her, to make her life easier, but she resisted him at every turn. He didn’t know what else he could do and he had to admit, it was harder than he had thought it would be.

Dawn had once been so sweet, so friendly, but grief and sorrow had aged her, made her sharper, bitter. He couldn’t blame her though, no matter how much she acted out against him: she had lost her whole family and there was nothing he could do that would make up for that.



He worried about the teenager’s emotional state too. Like her sister had been prone to do, she bottled everything up inside and it seemed to make her mood swings that much worse. He almost wanted to smile fondly every time she flew off the handle – if only for the remembrance it brought of her sister. She was so much like Buffy and he wondered that he had never seen it before. She was just as stubborn, just as forthright, just as quick-tempered.

But then there were her quiet days – the ones that made him worry the most because she was so unlike herself. And these days always seemed to coincide with a visit to Spike. He had seen enough of the vampire’s grieving himself to know that it was not a pretty sight and he worried about the effect it might have on Dawn. She was determined not to spend any less time with the vampire though, no matter what he said, and in fact she seemed to view it as a challenge.

She would disappear without telling anyone, but she would always turn up at Spike’s. He couldn’t even count the number of times he had escorted her home from the vampire’s crypt. She was angry every time too – as if he deliberately wanted to sever her friendship with the vampire. She would rant at him the whole way home and he would not know what to say to pacify her. She seemed to have decided he was the bad guy, and there was no way to change her mind. A true Summers.



When she disappeared for the third time in a week, he was beginning to lose his patience. Despite her more than extensive experience with Sunnydale’s nocturnal dangers, she would always sneak out of her window and into the night, worrying everyone. This time, he was out already – patrolling – and as soon as he got the call from Willow, he turned in the direction of Restfield and Spike’s crypt. He wanted to be angry but after all, he’d majored in Psychology and he knew the grief process could take its toll in any number of ways. Dawn, it seemed, was acting out at everyone around her.

He sped up his steps as the crypt came into view and rushed to the door. He gave the door a cursory knock and pushed it open, stepping in and squinting to make out anything in the darkness.

“Spike? Dawn?”

There was no reply and he moved further into the crypt. He jerked back quickly though when the slab that usually covered the hole to the lower level was shoved aside. Spike climbed up out of the lower level, looking bleary eyed and dishevelled.

“She’s not here.”

Any relief he might have felt on reaching the crypt disappeared in an instant.

“Any idea where she might be?” he asked the vampire.

Spike paused, ran a hand over his face, and then nodded.

“Follow me.”

He grabbed his jacket from a nearby chair, threw it on in one swift motion and headed for the door.



He caught up with Spike quickly and fell into step beside the vampire, casually surveying the area as they moved through it in silence. He watched the vampire out of the corner of his eye, not surprised to see that he looked no better than the last time he had seen him. Although, at least this time he wasn’t about to pass out from drinking. He looked to be sober, for once, causing Riley to let out a little sigh of relief.

“Do you know what day it is?”

He jerked back to the present with a jolt at the sound of the vampire’s voice and turned his gaze towards him. Spike didn’t look at him but continued on his way, his hands stuffed in his pocked.

“August… 3rd.”

Spike hesitated for a moment and then glanced at him ever so swiftly before fixing his gaze on the path in front of him.

“Joyce’s birthday.”

He had had no idea and his eyes went wide with surprise that the vampire had remembered this day.

“Nibblet was talking about it the other day,” the vampire explained, “Talking about the last birthday and all.”

A muscle twitched in Spike’s jaw but he didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause once in his steps.

“That’s where she’ll be. With Joyce.”



For a few long moments, Riley was stunned into silence by these words but somehow he managed to choke out his next words.

“She talks to you?”

He’d guessed, of course, but he had been so worried that she had cut herself off from everyone.

“Sometimes,” Spike answered, “When she’s not telling me off.”

He saw the vampire smile ever so slightly and then it faded into his usual blank expression.

“She’s worried about you.”

“Had to look after myself for a long time now,” Spike murmured with a shrug, “S’not hard. She doesn’t need to worry.”

“Everyone’s worried about you actually.”

Spike came to an abrupt halt and turned to regard him in surprise.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

Riley paused for just a moment as he considered his words – but then he just decided to get it out of the way, tact be damned.

“Spike, you’re a mess.”



The vampire went deadly silent and turned his back on Riley, his shoulders taut with tension.

“You need to pull yourself together,” Riley continued, his tone softening, “For Dawn, if not for yourself.”

He saw the vampire’s shoulders sag and he felt something like relief that Spike had even listened to him. The group as a whole had been worried about Spike’s behaviour but no-one had been able to talk to him about it.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Spike murmured, back still to him, fumbling in his pocket and pulling out his cigarettes.

“Buffy wouldn’t want you to live like this.”

Spike rounded on him all of a sudden, eyes flashing yellow.

“You don’t know anything,” he accused, teeth bared – and then in the next moment, he flagged, all of the energy sapped from him, “It’s my fault.”

“Excuse me?”

Spike threw a glance at him and then fixed his eyes on the ground once more.

“It was my fault. If I… It was my fault she had to jump.”

And now the whole reason for Spike’s excessive grief became clear: he blamed himself for Buffy’s death.

“I’m sure-“

“Don’t,” Spike barked at him, eyes flashing to his angrily once more, “You weren’t there, so you don’t know. If I’d just been faster, stronger… I could have… She wouldn’t have had to jump.”

Spike held his gaze for a long moment and then turned away, moving off again.

“Let’s go find Dawn,” he called, as if the conversation they had just had had never taken place. Riley fell into step beside him moments later, reeling with this insight into the vampire’s mind. Spike truly blamed himself for Buffy’s death – and it made the grieving that much worse. He couldn’t even imagine how much the vampire had tortured himself thinking about it. He was determined to give him a wake-up call though – he had been wallowing for too long. And Dawn’s worsening behaviour just might help, Riley mused.