When the doorbell rang around eleven o’clock the next morning, Spike and Buffy were still lost in dreams of the night before, entangled comfortably in each other’s arms.

Dawn, on the other hand, had been up for a couple of hours already by then, despite the fact that it was Saturday. Her slowly but surely formulating plan, now hovering on the brink of its execution, kept her from sleeping very well lately. She was in a constant state of anticipation that would not let her rest – like a much darker, more frightening version of a child on Christmas morning.

And her plans for this particular day, the finalization of all her preparations, had her feeling even more expectant and excited than usual. She had no idea how she was going to manage to wait all day long until Buffy left at six o’clock for her shift at the Doublemeat Palace.

She was just hanging up the phone when she heard the doorbell. It had rung a couple of times, but when she picked it up, there was only silence on the other end of the line. Irritated, thinking that it was probably one of those annoying automated telemarketing calls that took forever for the person to actually speak to you, she hung up the phone quite a bit harder than she had to. She shrugged as she walked toward the door. At least that way she could avoid actually having to *speak* to the telemarketer, by hanging up before they could say anything.

She opened the door to allow the visitor inside; it was exactly who she had expected it to be, as she had invited him last night to come over this morning.

Xander.

“Hey,” he said nervously as he stepped off the porch into the foyer and followed her into the living room, taking off his jacket.

“Hey,” she replied, as they sat down on the sofa. For a moment neither of them said anything, just kept exchanging awkward, nervous glances.

The night before, they had come to an understanding. Dawn had forgiven him – he had made it very difficult not to, considering how he had saved her from Warren and all – but things still felt a little weird between them.

Even though it had been her suggestion that he stop by today to attempt once more to talk to Buffy, now she wondered if it had been a wise idea.

“Buffy around?” he asked, glancing anxiously toward the stairs, and it wasn’t clear whether he wanted the answer to be yes or no.

“Still in bed,” Dawn replied with an apologetic half-smile. “I didn’t think she’d sleep this late. Well, I guess I *should* have thought…” she amended, then stopped suddenly, realizing that this was still probably not a welcome topic for Xander.

However, to his credit, he managed a smile, even if it *was* a bit forced, and pointed out lightly, “Well, maybe at least when she *does* get up, she’ll be in a better mood…more …forgiving, maybe?” His voice sounded both hopeful and terrified.

“Actually,” Dawn laughed a little as she confessed, “that’s kind of what I was hoping for.”

Xander laughed too, and things did not feel as strained between them.

“So…” Dawn began after a moment’s pause. “I know that Buffy needs to know that you understand…and it’s not gonna be easy to convince her…but I don’t think you should tell her about Anya. Unless you have to. You know?”

She didn’t mention her true reason for feeling that way. She didn’t really think that Anya would be in any danger just because Buffy knew she was a vengeance demon again; she just didn’t want her sister to have the chance to figure out what she had in mind before she could pull it off.

“You’re probably right. It might make things harder on her,” Xander agreed, clueless. “I’ll try to skip the look-at-my-heroic-suffering, feel-sorry-for-me bit and hope she forgives me without it.”

After that, there didn’t seem to be much to say. After a few moments of awkward silence, Dawn shrugged and said, “She’ll probably get up soon. You can just hang out and wait for her if you want,” and reached for the remote to turn on the television – the universal filler of awkward silences.

It was on some inane talk show, and the clamorous sounds of yelling and fighting, fifteen people all shouting at once, came from the screen. After watching in silence for a few moments, Xander said in a voice of subdued optimism, “I guess it could always be worse.”

Dawn gave him a dubious look. “Oh, sure,” she muttered. “ ‘I slept with your baby’s daddy’ isn’t all that much worse than ‘I tortured your boyfriend’,” she pointed out with dry sarcasm.

“Not helping with the scared-out-of-my-mind deal here, Dawnie,” he reminded her, feeling terribly nervous again. “And I didn’t…”

His voice broke off as they both heard the sound of soft, slow footsteps on the stairs. Xander felt his stomach turn over inside him, not knowing if it was Buffy or not, or how she would react to the sight of him sitting in her living room. He could barely bring himself to look.

It was Spike.

He stopped at the foot of the stairs, taking in the sight of the sick, fearful expression on Xander’s face, the way he averted his eyes in shame at the sight of him, for a moment before moving or saying a word.

Then he shrugged slightly and said simply, “Morning.”

Dawn quietly replied as Spike continued on toward the kitchen.

Xander’s face fell. So Spike intended to give him the same silent treatment that Buffy was doling out. And of the three people he had offended so deeply, although he had been the worst wronged, Spike had seemed the most willing to forgive him. Apparently, Buffy had managed to change his mind.

At the kitchen doorway, Spike paused, turning halfway to face the two on the couch.

“Oh, right,” he said sarcastically with a little smirk, but there was a teasing sparkle in his eyes. “The great Xander’s too good to respond to the likes of me, is that it?”

Xander looked up in surprise when he realized that Spike’s greeting had actually been directed toward him as well, after all. “No,” he rushed to explain. “That’s not it, I just thought – I mean – I didn’t think you…”

His voice trailed off as Spike disappeared into the kitchen, smiling and suppressing a laugh. He was being gracious about it, all things considered, but he was well aware that the power in this particular situation had definitely shifted in his favor. No harm in enjoying it a little. Power was a feeling he hadn’t had much of lately.

As Spike left the room, Dawn placed her hand on Xander’s knee, as his feeble protests stumbled to a halt. When he looked at her, she shook her head a little at him and said with a smirk, in a tone that was a little patronizing, but not unkind, “Just let it go, Xander. He’s over it. Quit while you’re ahead, okay?”

Xander looked at her for a moment, realizing that she was right, then nodded slowly. This was Spike’s way of letting him know that they were okay. Back to the normal exchange of insults as usual.

After a few moments, Spike returned to the living room with a steaming mug of blood, and sat down comfortably beside Dawn. Glancing at the television screen, he commented, “What are we watching this bloody rubbish for? There’s got be something better than *this* on the telly!”

“Is Buffy up yet?” Dawn asked him, smiling as she leaned back against him. Even in the smallest of ways, she was glad to see Spike’s assertiveness gradually returning.

“In the shower,” he replied, his eyes still on the television screen, taking advantage of her nearness to pluck the remote from her hand and begin flipping through the channels.

The phone rang again, and Dawn rose with a sigh to answer it. But before she could cross the room to pick it up, the ringing stopped, halfway through the second ring. Returning to her seat, she shrugged.

“Guess she’s out of the shower now,” she commented.

Xander gulped. The moment of his judgment was getting closer and closer.

In fact, it was only a few minutes more before they heard a second set of footsteps coming down the stairs, this time faster.

Xander had no time to prepare. Within an instant, Buffy was standing frozen at the foot of the stairs, staring at him in shock. For a moment, no one moved or spoke. Spike and Dawn wondered how Buffy would handle the situation. They both knew her well enough to know that the distance between her and her best friend had been killing her.

They both also knew her well enough to know that it was going to take some extensive groveling on Xander’s part before she would be willing to admit it.

“What’s up?” she asked simply, her tone and expression cool and impassive. The two short words were loaded with much more meaning that one would suspect.

“Um…hi, Buffy,” Xander mumbled, meeting her eyes bravely, but then looking away at the stony expression he saw there. “Um…can we…can we talk?”

“Don’t you ever get a new idea, Xander? This whole talking thing doesn’t usually work out. It usually ends with you insisting that you know better than I do how to run my life or lying to me and threatening the people I love,” she snapped, a bit defensively, and Spike knew already that if Xander played his cards right, he could be forgiven by the time this conversation was over.

“You…said that last time, Buffy,” Xander dared to point out quietly…his cautious come-back to her comment about his lack of originality.

Buffy glared at him viciously. Okay, so far the Whelp was striking out.

“If you’ve got something to say, then say it!” Buffy snapped, looking away from him and crossing her arms over her chest in a way that those who knew her well knew to be a defensive gesture; she was afraid of giving in too easily.

“Buffy, I’m sorry!” Xander insisted. “I’m really and truly sorry. I understand now. I understand why it was so wrong to do what I did, and I know it’s one of the worst things I’ve ever done.”

She was silent, waiting for him to go on, but she did deign to look at him, finally, an expectancy, a cautious hope in her eyes.

“It was cruel, and thoughtless, and I swear, Buffy, I’ll never do anything like that again. And I understand if you can’t really trust me for awhile, because I lied to you, Buffy, and that was wrong too. But…but I just want you to please, *please* give me a chance to earn your trust again,” he begged her, his voice quiet and pleading as he searched her eyes desperately. “Let me in at least enough to show you that I really mean it.”

“Last time I did that…” Buffy began, just as the phone rang again.

She glanced in irritation toward the kitchen, annoyed at the interruption. Dawn was shamelessly focused on the conversation between the two of them, and barely seemed aware of the ringing phone.

“I’ll get it in the kitchen,” Spike said quietly, rising from the sofa and making his exit, not wanting this rather important discussion to be interrupted.

A silence fell over the room for a moment as the ringing ceased. Xander hesitantly went on, “I know I’ve broken your trust, Buffy. You have no reason to believe me. I’m throwing myself on your mercy, Buffy,” he admitted, his dark eyes honest and achingly vulnerable as he stood to face her, shaking his head a little with the realization of the helpless position he was in.

“How can I know that you’re not gonna just do the same thing again, Xander?” she asked him, her voice tired and sad.

“You can’t,” he admitted after a brief pause in which he tried to come up with an answer. “The truth is, you can’t really know, Buffy. But I want to make you be able to trust me again. Please…I would never hurt Spike…not now…not now that I really understand what he’s been through…”

Buffy suddenly turned on him, her eyes blazing with a protective fury. “You *understand*?” she spat the word back at him in disgusted disbelief. “How can you even begin to say that you *understand*? He’s been through an ordeal that most people never have to even begin to think of! *I* can’t understand what he’s going through, and I’ve tried! I love him with everything in me, and I can’t really understand, no matter how hard I try, because I haven’t *been there*, Xander! How can you dare to look at me and say that you *understand*?”

Xander glanced at Dawn instinctively, knowing that she knew the truth, knew how it was that he could genuinely know what Spike had been through. But she had been right; he couldn’t betray Anya’s trust to make things easier on himself.

But when he looked at Dawn, she was no longer paying close attention to the conversation. She was looking toward the kitchen, frowning thoughtfully. The concern in her eyes drew Xander’s attention away from his own plight for a moment.

“What is it, Dawnie?” he asked her suddenly.

“Nothing,” she replied distractedly, shaking her head and glancing at him for a moment before looking back to the kitchen door. Then she changed her mind and said quietly, “He’s just been in there a while, I wonder who’s on the phone.”

She glanced at Buffy, who was frowning now at the odd look of worry on her little sister’s face. “Who was on the phone earlier?” Dawn asked suddenly.

“No one,” Buffy replied. “They hung up. Why, Dawnie? What’s wrong?”

Dawn felt an odd, sick feeling rising up in her stomach at the answer. One weird silent call was possibly a telemarketer, possibly nothing at all. Two in the space of fifteen minutes was a little stranger. Unless…

Unless the caller had hung up the first two times…because they hadn’t gotten the person they wanted to talk to…and they didn’t want their call to be discovered by anyone else…

*Oh, God.* Suddenly, Dawn knew exactly who was on the phone.

She jumped up off the couch.

“Dawn!” Buffy’s voice was a little sharper than she intended it to be. Dawn’s obvious fear was frightening *her* a little, too. “What’s going on?”

Dawn ignored her completely, rushing toward the kitchen. How had she neglected to think of it? she berated herself.

Although he was physically safe here in Buffy’s house, no longer too weak to defend himself in a fight, surrounded by people who cared about him and would protect him from anyone who tried to harm him…

There was still one way that Warren could get to Spike.