The minute Spike stepped back into the house, he felt light-headed. He closed the door behind him and tried to balance himself as much as his dizziness would allow. When he was finally able to stand upright without swaying, he managed to stagger as far as the kitchen table and with a thump, sit on the closest chair he could pull out.

“Bloody hell.” He screwed his eyes shut and opened them again. The world around him was hazy; things were spinning around him so fast that he could barely make anything out. A sharp twinge fired deep in his brain and he put a hand to his head as his body twitched from the pain. It made him want to bash someone's brain in and sink his fangs deep into someone's throat. It made him crave blood more than he'd ever craved it before.

Unconsciously slipping into the face of his demon, he stood up with a growl, grabbed the chair he'd been sitting on and threw it across the room. It broke into pieces as it crashed against the wall opposite him and he jolted back in shock at what he'd just done, now back in his human face.

What happened in the backyard was nothing more than wishful thinking. He'd seen things that weren't really there because he'd wanted it so badly. She had played him; he knew that now. And whatever was happening to him was her doing.

He quickly looked up at the ceiling and wondered if Dawn had heard it. Sure enough, she had. Descending footsteps clattered on the wooden staircase.

“What was that?” Dawn was standing by the threshold now, grimacing in worry.

“A demon,” he answered. And it really was one. “But I fought it off.”

Dawn glanced around the room, noticing that there was no demon lying on the floor. There was also no sign of struggle whatsoever amidst the already cluttered kitchen, aside from the pieces of what she was sure was once a stool. “Where is it?” She looked at him quizzically.

“It left.” Spike approached her and ran a hand over her head, smoothing down her slightly disheveled bed hair. “Now go back to bed.”

By the doubtful look on Dawn's face, he knew she didn't believe him. Dawn was a pretty clever young girl and he knew he couldn't keep things from her. But he was still in shock from what happened, and Dawn had gone through enough already. He didn't want to frighten her off. He was the only one she had. She was the only one he had.

Dawn glanced around the dining area, brows still furrowed. “Okay.” She hesitantly went back up to her room, looking over her shoulder at Spike who was standing at the foot of the stairs.

Spike practically ran to the kitchen as soon as Dawn was out of sight. He carelessly rifled through the refrigerator for a packet of blood, took it out and bit into it. Drinking blood, he thought, was the solution.

After he finished the packet, fulfilling the near all-consuming need for blood he’d felt, he went into the living room. He turned on the television set, the volume just loud enough for him to hear it and low enough that it wouldn’t keep him from hearing if anyone approached the house.

The sofa, he mused, was now his new cot. He missed the cot. It was the place he'd been sleeping on back when Buffy was still six feet under and when the Scoobies were still here.

The demons who had broken into the house had broken it into two, among some other things in the house. It was having the cot that gave him comfort when he thought he couldn't get through Buffy being gone and knowing he would most likely be around for a very long time. It was having the cot that made him feel as if he were a part of the Scoobies.

Now all he had was a fucked up sofa. Fucked up. Just like everything else.

He'd give anything now to have that cot. The TV was nothing but static – he forgot to change the channel – and he stared at it blankly. He chuckled scornfully and shook his head. No, he wouldn't give anything for things to get back to the way they were. He'd take evil Buffy over no Buffy any day.

Getting a bit more comfortable, he stretched his legs out and slid down the couch a bit. He was wide awake, and planned to be so until daybreak.

He could clearly hear Dawn's heartbeat through all the noise around them. The beating of her heart soon turned into a rhythmic lullaby. Each beat lulled him to sleep. Each beat drowned out every other noise he heard – car horns blaring, motorcycles speeding by, and the soft buzzing of the television set static. With each beat of Dawn's heart, he was hypnotized.

Without him realizing it, sleep took him.

When he opened his eyes, daylight was already streaming in through the curtain and the overwhelming thirst for blood was still there. The television set had been turned off. The clock atop the side table to his right read seven o'clock. Surprisingly, he'd slept for more than six hours. He jolted upright and focused his senses to Dawn's breathing. When he heard it, he stood up and called out, “Dawn?”

“Yeah?” Dawn's voice came from the kitchen.

He quickly went to the kitchen and saw Dawn sitting on the counter, staring at the bowl of cereal before her. It was obvious she had not touched it. “You're up early.”

“Couldn't really sleep.” She smiled wryly at him while idly stirring the cereal with the spoon. Spike gave her an apologetic frown and she added, “I could hear noises outside. How about you? Slept well?”

“Oddly, yeah.” His eyes unintentionally fell on Dawn's jugular. He could see the vein pulsing, pumping rich, young, crimson blood. He quickly jerked his head up. “I'm not feeling very well. I don't know if I can protect you.” From myself, he thought and sighed. “Who knows you're here?”

Dawn bit her lip and averted her eyes from his. “Well...”

“Dawn.” Spike cocked his head and placed his hands on his hips.

“I asked for a few dollars from Xander and Angel,” she said and Spike raised an eyebrow. “Fine. I took it, snuck out, and rode a bus. You'd think there'd be no buses coming here any more but–”

“Dawn, they're probably worried sick!”

“Maybe they think I left with Willow.”

Spike shook his head and turned from her to go to the phone. “I should get you ba– ”

Dawn scowled when Spike stopped in mid sentence and froze where he was standing. “Get me what?” She strained her neck to try to look at him. “Spike?” When he still didn't answer, she got off the stool and walked to him. “Spike,” she said and reached for him. But before her hand touched him, Spike turned and lunged at her with a growl.

Dawn screamed.