Dawn felt her stomach do a nervous, excited little flip as she watched Anya vanish before her eyes, off to fulfill the wish she had just made. She had finally done it, and there was no going back now. In a matter of moments, her vengeance would begin, and the vile monster who had so shattered her best friend would learn for himself the meaning of the word “broken”.

She felt a strange chill of foreboding, but it was greatly outweighed by the expectant thrill of knowing that all the planning she had been doing was about to finally pay off. She just had to wait for Buffy to leave for work, and find some excuse to give Spike for where she was going, and then she could leave as well.

She no longer worried about leaving Spike alone in the house. As of this moment, Warren was no longer a threat to him, and she was confident that he would be able to hold his own against any other opponent that came against him. His physical strength and emotional self-confidence were both beginning to return; she knew that it was only the chip in his head, and the psychological control Warren had wielded over him, that had caused him to remain vulnerable to Warren’s threats for so long, even after he had been freed.

And Dawn was fairly certain that at this point, neither of those things would be an issue any longer.

She felt a little pang of guilt as she thought over the past couple of days and realized that as the final stages of her plan had come together at last, she hadn’t spent very much time with Spike. It wasn’t as if he had really seemed to need her that badly lately, she reminded herself. Buffy seemed to be doing a fine job all on her own in the comfort department.

And she had had a very good reason for being distracted; she had been focused on one thing only: making Warren suffer as he had made Spike suffer.

Somehow, she felt certain that once justice had been served, once her friend’s agony had been avenged, things could finally start to get better for them again. She hated to admit to anyone just how badly shaken she had been by the whole thing, and though she had been terribly worried about Spike before he had finally started to recover, that was not the only reason she had been so affected by it all.

Ever since she and Spike had started to become close, around the time of her mother’s death, Spike had been Dawn’s strong, protective brother-figure, so to speak. When she was in danger, he had protected her, even to the point of enduring torture for her. She had always felt safe and secure with him, as if none of the evil, scary things that surrounded them there on the Hellmouth could hurt her, as long as he was there.

And then one of those scary, evil things had hurt *him* -- torn him viciously to pieces, until nothing was left of the pillar of strength he had once been for her. All that remained was a broken, devastated shadow of the vibrant, passionate friend she had known.

And it scared her to death.

If Spike, her support through the most frightening, confusing times of her life, could be so destroyed, and not by some huge, terrifying demon, but by a rather ordinary – if psychotic – average human being, then what chance did she have at all? It shook her foundation, sent her world spinning. Not only for the sake of her devastated friend, but also for her own, she had to set things right again.

She turned to go upstairs to get ready to go – and stopped short at the sight of Xander, standing in the living room looking at her intently. There was just a hint of suspicion in his dark brown eyes, and it sent an uneasy, sick feeling into the pit of her stomach.

“Xander!” she said, trying to keep her voice casual. “You scared me!”

His voice was soft as he shrugged his shoulders slightly, his piercing eyes never leaving hers. “I’ve just been standing right here,” he pointed out. “No reason for you to be jumpy…is there?”

Dawn shrugged off his comment, sensing immediately that he suspected something. “All this talk about Warren,” she explained. “Got me a little spooked, that’s all. I’m going upstairs, see you later.” And she headed quickly toward the stairs.

Xander caught her arm, gently but firmly, stopping her and pulling her back to face him, his hand on her arm and his intent gaze both unyielding.

“Dawnie,” he said softly, and there was no mistaking the concern in his eyes. “What are you doing?”

Dawn forced a laugh as she tried to pull away. “Going upstairs. Let go of me.”

“No, Dawn. Really. What are you doing?”

Her expression grew angry as she pulled harder against him. “Xander, let go of me! What’s the matter with you? If you’re going all psycho on us again…”

Xander released her immediately, but his eyes never faltered. “You should be very careful, Dawnie,” he said, his voice quiet and calm, but intense with his fear for her. “I know you want to make Warren pay. Believe me, I do too. But vengeance wishes can be very, very dangerous. And there are some lines that you can only cross one way.”

She was silent, not even bothering to argue; it was clear that he was on to her. And in spite of her determination, her firm conviction that what she was doing was what needed to be done, his observations were very sobering. If she killed Warren, she knew that she would never again be exactly the same person that she was right now.

“I know,” she said quietly, holding his gaze. “I know what I’m doing.” Her voice was somehow soft and hard at the same time, and he knew that there would be no convincing her to abandon her plan.

“What did you wish for?” he demanded, a little more forcefully as his frustration rose. He was not getting through to her at all, and who knew what kind of danger she was placing herself in?

“None of your business!” she snapped. “I’m going upstairs now, so I think it’s time for you to go home, Xander!”

He looked her in the eye for a moment longer, searching those hard, impenetrable depths for any clue as to what she was thinking. Finally, realizing that she was not going to give in, he let out a weary sigh, his eyes troubled, as he turned away and said quietly, simply, “Fine. Good night.”

He walked outside to his car and started the engine, driving slowly around the corner… and the next one, and the next…until he had circled the block. He turned back onto Revello Drive, parking a few houses down from the Summers’ home, next to the curb in a spot where a large oak tree partly shielded his car from view from the front porch of their house. With any luck, Dawn wouldn’t notice it there.

Whatever reckless danger she was placing herself in, whatever she was walking into…he was determined that she would not walk into it alone.


Dawn slipped up the stairs, careful not to make any noise to attract the attention of her sister or her friend. She could hear the sound of quiet but intense conversation coming from the other side of Buffy’s closed bedroom door. From the sound of things, they would be distracted for a while.

Quickly she went into Willow’s old bedroom, which was supposed to be Spike’s, though he never actually slept there anymore, closing the door silently behind her. There was something she needed before she could be on her way.

Now where would he keep it…? she wondered, frowning thoughtfully as she scanned the room. After a moment her eyes fell on the familiar black leather coat hanging in the closet.

*Of course!* she thought, going immediately to it and reaching into the pocket, glancing anxiously back toward the door, hoping that the serious conversation in the next room was still in progress. Her hand closed lightly around the object that she sought, and she took it, putting it quickly into her own pocket and hurrying out of the room and to her own.

*Okay,* she thought, taking a couple of slow, deep breaths in an attempt to settle her nerves. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table, which read 5:36. *Just a few more minutes…*

Buffy would be leaving for work in a few minutes, and she would be free to carry out the plan that had consumed her every thought for the past few weeks. A last-minute study session at Janice’s house – that would work as a plausible cover story. Hopefully Spike would be concerned enough with everything that was going on that he would not see through the story, and let her go without too much of a problem.

She couldn’t sit still, couldn’t stop fidgeting as she waited through the next interminable twenty minutes. Finally, she heard Buffy’s bedroom door open and two sets of footsteps going down the stairs. She went to the door of her room and listened carefully, waiting until she heard the front door open and close.

*Okay…so far so good,* she thought. Her sister, the biggest obstacle to her actually getting out of the house, was gone.

Now all she had to do was get the one person in all the world who knew her better than anyone and always saw through to the truth she tried to hide to believe a very thin, spur-of-the-moment, obvious lie.

“Piece of cake,” she muttered to herself, taking a deep breath, as she headed down the stairs.


Xander was just about to give up and head home, thinking that maybe Dawn’s vengeance didn’t require her to go anywhere or be personally involved after all, although he had certainly gotten a different impression from the way she had been behaving. Buffy had left for work fifteen minutes before, and there was still no sign of Dawn.

Just then, he saw the front door open, and Dawn walked out onto the porch, her backpack slung over her shoulder as she walked down the steps and started down the sidewalk. She headed off in one direction, then after a few minutes doubled back and headed the other way, slipping her backpack off her shoulder and discarding it into the cover of some nearby bushes, to be retrieved later.

The sun was just starting to set, and he was thankful for the deepening dusk that would help to conceal him from her, as he quietly got out of his car, waiting for her to round the corner before he began to follow her, being careful to stay out of her sight and not to make a sound.

He followed her through town, and was a little surprised when she led him unknowingly through the entrance of a very familiar cemetery. Of course, most of Sunnydale’s cemeteries were familiar to him at this point, but this one moreseo than the rest.

It was the cemetery where Spike’s old crypt was located.

He was puzzled, wondering why she would want to go there. Spike had taken everything of any value that he owned when he had attempted to leave town that night nearly six months ago, and whatever Warren had not considered valuable had been left at the scene of the accident. At any rate, there had been nothing in the crypt left to go back for, and since Spike was living with Buffy and Dawn now, none of the Scoobies had had any reason to return to the crypt.

He followed her as she walked up to the door and pushed it open, disappearing into the blackness inside. A sudden sense of alarm came over him; it had been months since Spike had lived there. What was the girl thinking? Any sort of monster could have taken up residence in the deserted little building, could be lurking inside ready and waiting to take advantage of the free meal that had just wandered in.

He hurried up to the door, which she had left open behind her, and inside, thinking not about how angry she would be when she found out he had followed her, only about protecting her from the very real danger she was putting herself in. But as he entered the mausoleum, and his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he didn’t see Dawn anywhere.

What he did say was a faint glow coming from the open sarcophagus in the center of the room.

He immediately headed toward it, hesitating as he looked at the ladder leading downward into it. The underground room was lit up, and there would be no hiding his presence from Dawn once he went down there.

He just stood there for a few moments, listening, wondering what in the world Dawn was up to.


Spike stood in the foyer, staring at the door through which Dawn had just made her exit, anger and fear for her safety warring in him, leaving him unsure of whether he wanted to go after her and beat her senseless or take her in his arms. One thing he knew for sure…

He wanted to go after her.

As he stalked angrily up the stairs to his bedroom, he replayed the conversation they had just had in his head, the harsh words that had passed between them.

The story she had concocted about studying at Janice’s had obviously been a lie. He had immediately seen that the girl had some mischief planned for the evening, something she thought she could put past him, although not past her sister.

“Buffy didn’t say a soddin’ word about you going to this Janice’s house,” he had declared. “And she would have told me. Sorry, Niblet, but you’re not going anywhere.”

“Not my fault she didn’t mention it,” Dawn had muttered, grabbing her backpack and heading for the door. “She knows about it, and I’m going.”

Without a word he had simply stepped into her path, blocking the door.

Her eyes had narrowed in furious challenge, and she had crossed her arms over her chest in a very Buffy-like gesture, raising her eyebrows and demanding, “You think you’re gonna stop me?”

“Bloody right I’m gonna stop you!” he had shot back, his voice incredulous at her tone. “There’s a lot of nasty, dangerous things out there, not the least of which is Warren, and I bet he’d just love to get his dirty little hands on *you*, Niblet. He hurt you once and I’m not about to let him do it again!”

His tone was the one he used to use with her when he was trying to make her back down, a bit patronizing, infuriating her by speaking to her as he almost never did – as if she was a child. She could feel her temper rising; Spike was the one person she could usually count on *not* to talk to her like that. She just rolled her eyes and tried to move around him.

His next words made her even angrier, as he moved with her, still blocking her path, and added, “There is no bleedin’ way in hell that I am letting you leave this house!”

“Please,” she scoffed, feinting right, then ducking left, past him out onto the porch. He followed her, catching her arm and spinning her around. She looked pointedly down at his hand on her arm, then back up at him with more attitude than he had thought could fit in a pint-sized package like hers. “You’re *not* my father, Spike! Let go of me!” She jerked her arm away, glaring at him.

“Warren doesn’t care a thing about me. You’re the one he wants,” she pointed out with a wide, fake smile. “So maybe you’d better get back inside and hide before he sees you!”

The hint of derision he heard in her unusually harsh words stung, and unthinkingly he dropped his hand from her arm, his eyes widening in hurt as he stared at her, at a loss for words.

Dawn immediately felt guilty. In that moment, she had been very irritated with the way he was treating her, and anxious to get to her destination, and a part of her had wanted to say something cutting, something that would let her win the little battle they had somehow started.

Now, she just felt low and mean and very, very sorry for the thoughtless words that had left her mouth.

On the other hand, he had let go of her arm, and he no longer seemed so adamant about stopping her. She swallowed hard, nearly choking on the feeling of guilt that was rising in her, and her voice was softer when she spoke again.

“It’s still light outside, Spike. No one’s going to attack me in broad daylight. I’ll be all right, I promise.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept looking at her with those too-expressive eyes, full of such an injured look that it almost physically hurt her. “I won’t be late. I’ll see you later,” she said, hoping he could see the regret in her eyes that she couldn’t quite bring herself to express just yet.

He nodded slowly, and she decided to take the chance she had been given before he regained enough control to try to take it back. Closing the door behind her, she had disappeared down the sidewalk in the direction of her friend’s house.

He had been too stunned to react for a few moments, and had let her go.

Now, he was determined to correct that mistake. Once in his room, he stalked to the closet and took out his coat, shrugging into it in one quick motion and hurrying back down the stairs, thankful for his enhanced vampire senses that would allow him to still be able to track her if he hurried.

God, he needed a bloody cigarette! As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he reached in his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter, waiting until he was on the porch to light one up.

Suddenly, he froze, his eyes widening as he realized that something wasn’t right. He reached back into his pocket, then into the other one, searching. Something was missing. He felt his heart sinking, and a sick feeling of panic rising up in his throat, as he frantically kept digging in his pockets for the item he sought.

*No…no…no…*

But finally he had to accept the frightening truth, admit that no matter how desperately he wanted it to be, it simply wasn’t there.

The control device for his chip was missing.