The moment seemed to freeze for them, as each was aware of nothing but the swirling tumult of emotions in the other’s eyes. Her small, soft, hot hands tugged on his as she backed gracefully toward the dance floor, just as the strains of a sweet and haunting ballad began to play.

They reached the center of the dance floor, unhindered by the other couples that began to slowly fill in the spaces around them. Buffy leaned in closer to him, one hand resting just at the waistband of his jeans, the other reaching up his back toward his shoulders, softly stroking her fingers across the space between them.

Automatically, naturally, without a hint of the awkwardness that had become second nature to him, Spike’s arms slipped around her, one hand cupping at the small of her back, pressing her closer to him, as the other came slowly around to meet it, encircling her in a subtlely possessive way.

His “second nature” of shame meant nothing at the moment. What they were both acting on was *first* nature – pure instinct. Each knew in a subconscious, intuitive way that the other belonged to them only.

Buffy just couldn’t seem to get close enough to him, as the music intensified, and with it her rising desire. Almost of their own accord, her hands began to move slowly up and down his back in a slow, sensuously possessive way that drove both of them mad with need.

Her eyes shone up into his for a moment, before she leaned her cheek against his chest, whispering against him, knowing that he could still hear her, “I love dancing with you. I could never do anything else and be totally happy.”

“We never *have* done anything else, love,” he reminded her in a low, throaty voice, his hands at her waist tightening, edging lower, pulling her even closer against him. The simple motion made it clear that his desire matched hers, promising a different sort of dance to come later, in privacy.

And suddenly, Buffy wasn’t sure if she would last through the end of this dance.


From the bar where she waited for the virgin strawberry daiquiri she had ordered, Dawn watched Buffy and Spike on the dance floor, smiling with pride and elation at the admiring looks cast their way by the other dancing couples surrounding the two stunning blondes. Each of them noticeably attractive on their own, they were even more impressive together, and in a perfect harmony of rhythmic motion.

It was clear even from here that they were completely unaware of the attention they were drawing, absolutely absorbed in each other. Dawn felt a warm glow come over her; she was just so thrilled at the way everything was working out.

Spike was doing so much better; he and Buffy seemed to be falling deeper into love every moment; and her plan for vengeance against Warren was coming along nicely. She just had a little errand to do tomorrow, while Buffy was at work at the Doublemeat Palace, and hopefully everything would be ready to go after that.

Idly she scanned the crowd, thinking what an awesome idea it had been to come here tonight. A little fun was good for all of them, after the extreme stress of the past few weeks – for some of them longer – even if things were already beginning to look up.

Suddenly, her eyes fell on a familiar figure, standing near the stairs to the upper level, leaning against the banister with his arms crossed over his chest, watching the couple in the center of the dance floor – as nearly everyone else in the room was doing. But his familiarity was not the warm, friendly, comfortable type.

It was the type of familiarity that made Dawn want to commit first degree murder in front of a couple hundred witnesses.

Warren.

Her heart did a sick little flip of fear, mingling with the force of her rising fury to make her feel suddenly violently ill. She glanced quickly, anxiously toward the dance floor, wondering if Buffy or Spike had noticed him yet. She hoped that Spike wouldn’t; that was the last thing he needed after everything he had been through, just now when he was only beginning to defeat the fear that had consumed his life.

She wondered angrily how the boy had managed to get out of jail. She had seen on the local news how he had been arrested for the bank robberies, but hadn’t kept up with developments since. So why had he been released, why was he free to roam the streets, to come in here and threaten the fledgling courage that Spike was just beginning to develop? Why was he free at all, when Spike was still imprisoned by the memories of the torture he had endured at his hands?

Satisfied that Buffy and Spike were far too distracted by each other to even be aware that there was *anyone* else in the Bronze besides them, Dawn turned her eyes back to Warren, staring at him with a vicious hatred. He was watching Buffy and Spike intently, with just the hint of a smirk on his face, an expression of mingled mockery and menace.

Even from across the room she could see that it was only the fear of Buffy that kept him from crossing the room to the blissfully unaware couple.

She felt her fury rising up, so strong that it nearly physically smothered her. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. All she wanted to do was to march up to him and choke the life out of him, beat him with her fists, just *hurt* him until there wasn’t enough left of him to ever hurt her friend again.

*The plan,* she reminded herself. *Think of the plan. In a couple days you’ll be able to do a lot more damage than you could possibly do now.*

She glanced back toward Buffy and Spike, who were by now giving her an excellent example of the “upright shagging” Spike had warned her against a few minutes before – they weren’t paying a bit of attention to what she was doing.

She made her decision in a moment, and left her untouched daiquiri on the bar, striding purposefully toward the stairs and the object of her wrath.


Buffy’s eyes were closed as she leaned her head against Spike’s chest, her arms holding him tightly to her, just enjoying the feeling of being so close to him. She slowly breathed in the unique fragrance that was distinctly his – old leather and cigarette smoke and a hint of alcohol – all scents that alone she was not particularly fond of – but mingled together as they were, they brought back a wealth of memories.

Spike was right. It had not been all bad. Some of it had been beautiful and bittersweet, and there were memories of that time in their lives that she cherished, times when they had held each other like this…

No, she realized with a pang, as she swayed gently with him, burying her face in the worn leather with a sense of shame. She had never held him like this. Not back then. Oh, he had held her *just* like this, as if she was the only thing in the world that mattered to him – because she had been. Still was. He held her as he always had, as if he was determined even if it killed him, never to let her go.

At times it almost had.

But she had never held him like this before. In fact, whenever she had become aware of the depth of emotion behind his embrace, she had pushed him away, knocked him down, if not physically, then with a well-chosen verbal attack that was more devastating than a blow.

Her arms around him tightened more, yet remaining soft, as she tried with her embrace to convey her regret for the times she had hurt him.

She had so much to make up for.

She raised her head to look up at him, and he saw the tears shining in those brilliant eyes.

“What is it, love?” he whispered, hushed in the moment, which seemed too precious and beautiful to spoil by speaking any louder. “What?”

She shook her head, smiling through the tears to ease the worry she saw beginning in his eyes. She knew that they were well past the words of apology. There was nothing to do now but *show* him.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” she whispered back, gazing with adoration into the blue depths, staring back at her in surprise.

It was not that he was unsure of her love; at this point that was no longer an issue. He had just not expected her to say it right then, and it still caught him by surprise at times. How had he ever managed to win the love of this incredible creature before him?

“I love you, too, pet,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, before he pressed softly, “But why the tears?”

She pulled him down for a lingering, languorous kiss, their bodies never ceasing the slow even motion of the dance. When they separated, she gazed up at him with intense, desire-darkened eyes to whisper, “I just can’t believe you’re really mine.”

Once again, his breath was stolen. It was his thoughts exactly, his heart’s song every moment since he had realized that she finally, really loved him. He had to remind himself constantly that it was really and truly real; she was really his.

To see the same thrilled wonder and disbelief in her eyes, the force of her intense desire for him that she allowed to come through in her expression, as if he were some precious treasure that she could barely believe she had found – it was almost beyond belief to him.

“I am, love,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her again, finding it easier and easier to initiate their affectionate exchanges. “I’m yours.”


Dawn walked straight up to Warren, standing directly in front of him. She was nearly as tall as he was, and completely blocked his view of his quarry.

He frowned for a moment at the irritating interruption, before he realized who she was, and a smirk of derision came across his face.

“Well, hey,” he said lightly, “if it isn’t the Slayer’s kid sis. What are you doing out on a school night? Aren’t you a little young to be out this late?”

She ignored his jibes, recognizing that his intent was only to shake her up, to make her lose her cool to anger. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” she demanded without responding to him at all.

His smile faded at the accusing, almost authoritative note in her voice. He was not particularly fond of being ordered around or disrespected by women, and the hatred and disgust she held for him was evident in her voice.

“It’s a free country,” he shrugged, his voice and eyes hardening, and she could see in them that he wanted to hurt her, that he was only restrained by the crowd of people surrounding them. “I can go out and have a drink at the local club if I feel like it, Babe.”

In spite of herself she felt a chill run through her, and she remembered that as pathetic as he may have seemed, Warren truly was very dangerous.

“How did you get out of jail?” she demanded, resentment clear in her voice.

His smirk turned into a triumphant smile. “It’s called a good lawyer and daddy’s money, Sweetheart. Works miracles.” He looked her up and down in a way that felt like a violation before meeting her eyes again with a cold pleasure, enjoying the expression on her face as he went on, “And it’s not through working them yet.”

She felt her blood run cold as she realized his meaning, and that he was very likely right. She could tell by the surety in his smug expression that he was not just bluffing. He probably would end up getting away with the robberies.

But he would never get away with what he had done to Spike, she reminded herself. She was going to see to that.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she insisted, her eyes narrowing in rage and menace. “My sister told you what would happen if she ever saw you again, and don’t think I feel any less strongly about it than she does, because I don’t! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out of here, now!”

“Don’t feel like it,” he shrugged again, glancing past her back toward the dance floor, and she could see the anger and menace in his eyes, and the obvious irritation at the sight of his “slave”, free and enjoying the presence of his lover with him on the dance floor too much to even notice that Warren was there.

Dawn saw the threat beginning in Warren’s eyes, knew that he wanted to do something terrible to Spike, and could barely contain her fury.

“I mean it!” she snapped, blocking his view again and shoving him backward a little bit, glaring at him with hatred. “I might not be able to,” *yet* she added in her mind, “but Buffy meant it when she said she would kill you if she saw you again. And she means it even more now then she did then, trust me.”

Even through her wrath, she knew in her mind that at this moment, the important thing was to get Warren out of the Bronze before Spike saw him and lost all the progress he had made over the past two weeks. In a couple of days, Warren would pay for what he had done. Revenge was not her goal in this moment.

Protecting Spike was.

Suddenly, she saw the explosion in Warren’s eyes, before it became obvious. He was furious that she had dared to shove him like that. Angrily he grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her back against the banister, glaring at her threateningly.

“Don’t mess with me, little girl,” he snarled.

She tried to break his grip on her arms, and felt a chill of fear when she couldn’t. Warren might not have his super-strength anymore, but just his normal human strength was greater than hers.

In dismay she realized that no one had even noticed the little altercation beginning. A fast song had started, and the music was too loud, and everyone was talking, too involved in their own lives to notice anything amiss about the boy and the girl standing close and apparently fighting in the corner.

“Let go of me!” she demanded, furious and frightened. “My sister will kill you for touching me!”

“Yeah,” he laughed quietly. “But that would mean calling her over here, wouldn’t it? Getting her attention?” He glanced back toward Spike and Buffy, laughing and dancing, completely unaware of what was happening in this little corner. Dawn noticed the carefree happiness on Spike’s face – a rare thing.

Warren smiled when he saw that she had noticed exactly what he had wanted her to. “You might not want to get her attention at the moment, huh?” he gloated, but his voice softened with a cruel, nasty note.

He was right. If she didn’t want to devastate her friend, to deal him a blow so severe that it might be months before he found the courage to leave the house again – she would have to keep her mouth shut.

Warren looked back at them for a moment before he smirked back at her. “They look a little distracted, don’t they? Looks like they’re having too much fun to even notice little old us. Don’t you think?” He looked her up and down again, his smile lecherous and dirty, and Dawn felt violated by the look alone.

“Get your hands off me!” she cried, raising her voice, but not loud enough for Buffy to hear, pulling against him, hoping someone else nearby would notice and help her. She somehow managed to yank one arm free and dealt Warren a hard slap across his face, knocking him backward a couple of steps.

A couple of people standing nearby who still thought it was just a lover’s spat snickered quietly, and the mockery was not lost on Warren. He glared back at her, shame and fury mingled in his murderous eyes.

Her eyes widened in more shock than fear as she realized he was going to hit her. No man had ever hit her. She didn’t even think to move, she was so surprised, as he raised his fist, before the people nearby could register the change in the mood enough to do anything.

Although she could see the shocked dismay on the faces around her as they realized what he was going to do, no one was going to be able to help her in time. She could tell the blow was going to be powerful, as he drew back his fist to smash it across her face.

As he lowered his fist, she finally moved, flinching back a little, not able to move much because of the way he had her pinned against the banister. After a moment she realized that the moment when the blow would have fallen had passed – and he had not hit her.

She looked up to see that someone had indeed come to her rescue. Another young man stood, gripping Warren’s wrist in mid-strike where he had caught it, holding him back from striking her. A look of anger and determination shone in the deep brown eyes of her defender.

Xander.

“I don’t think you wanna do that, Warren,” he said mildly, turning the shorter boy around to face him. “In fact – I really don’t think you wanna be here at all.” His tone was mild, not exactly threatening, but it was clear that he meant business.

Warren jerked free of his hand, furious at his power once again being wrested from him, at what he perceived as humiliation in front of all these people, most of whom actually hadn’t even given him a second thought.

“You know,” he snarled, “I don’t think you need to be telling me what I want. I think you need to back off before *somebody* gets hurt.” He took a backward step away from Xander – toward the dance floor, with a little smirk tossed over his shoulder before he met Xander’s eyes meaningfully.

“I don’t care what you think,” Xander cut in suddenly, sounding a little angrier now as he advanced on the boy, who unthinkingly took another step back, surprised by the aggression. “I just *know* that you’d be a lot better off in another place – a place *not* *here*.” He bit off the words menacingly, stepping closer to Warren again.

Warren could see the violent anger rising in the larger boy, and suddenly realized that in this particular setting, unarmed and in a public place like this, he was at a bit of a disadvantage. Muttering curses under his breath, he shoved past Xander toward the door.

Xander caught his arm and slung him back against the banister forcefully, in an echo of what he had just done to Dawn.

“What are you gonna do, you reject?” Warren sputtered with bravado, though his eyes were beginning to show his fear. “Hit me? I don’t think you’ve got…”

Xander interrupted quickly, his voice quiet and calm, as he shoved him back against the banister again, cutting him off, “And one more thing, Warren. I might seem like Mister Nice Guy to you. But ask Dawnie here,” he said with a disarming smile and nod toward her, “I can be a real creep sometimes.” He looked to Dawn for verification.

She nodded seriously, as she agreed, “He can. He can be downright nasty.”

Xander nodded triumphantly as he smiled back at Warren and went on, “If you ever even *think* of touching Dawn again,” he started to go on, then paused, holding up a finger in his face as if just remembering something, “or Spike,” he added. “or Buffy…you’re gonna find out what I’m like when I’m nasty.”

He frowned for a moment with a little grimace of distaste to match Dawn’s as the alternate meaning of his words hit them both. Then he shrugged and looked back at Warren, releasing him roughly with a shove.

“Don’t you think you’d better get moving?” he asked with a smile, raising his eyebrows.

Faced with the larger, stronger boy, with no recourse but retreat, Warren’s helpless rage seemed about to consume him. Still, there was nothing he could do but leave.

Xander watched his retreating form with a satisfied smile for a moment, before turning to Dawn. The triumph of his moment faded a little at the sight of her impassive, expressionless face, staring back at him above her unyielding figure, standing facing him with her arms crossed over her chest.

His heart sank. He had not protected her to win back her favor. He had protected her because he could do nothing else. Still, it hurt to see that she was so angry with him that even this did absolutely nothing to penetrate the wall she had built to shut him out.

She didn’t move, just stood there staring at him.

Then, her expression began to slowly fade into a soft smile.