“Look, kid…this whole thing is ridiculous…you can’t just do this and get away with it.” Warren’s voice was fast, trembling, and a little higher than usual as he tried again to convince his surprisingly scary young captor to let him go. He had no idea how she had managed to get him in this very compromising position.

All he knew was that he had to find a way to get out of it.

“Why not?” she countered, her tone mocking and her eyebrows raised in a smirk. Dawn knew already what he did not; escape was not possible. “*You* got away with it. Until now.”

He deliberately ignored the last two very disturbing words, and argued, “That was different. You can’t just torture and kill a human being! Dawn, Spike’s a vampire! If it wasn’t for that stupid chip in his head…”

“*Your* head,” she corrected calmly. “And I’d be careful just what I said about Spike right about now, if I were you.”

He stopped speaking immediately, swallowing hard as his eyes widened with the realization of exactly what she had done to him. “It’s impossible,” he said in a near-whisper, shaking his head slightly. “You couldn’t have…how could you…?”

“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” she pointed out with a shrug. “It’s done. Spike doesn’t have a chip anymore. You do. And now you’re going to get a little taste of what his life has been like for the past five months -- the living hell that you *made* his life for all that time!”

“Look,” he argued, his fear growing stronger and more obvious with every second, every unsettling word out of her mouth. “You don’t wanna do this, Dawn. You’re just a kid. You’re gonna get caught, and you can’t even imagine the trouble you’re gonna get into for this. What do you think your sister would do if she knew where you are, what you’re doing right now?”

Dawn smiled, a cool, frightening expression, as she slowly leaned in closer to her prisoner, looking him directly in the eyes and allowing the pressure, the tension to build before she finally answered in a triumphant whisper, “She’d laugh.”

In spite of himself and his determination not to look weak in front of this “little girl”, Warren felt a chill of fear go through him at the cold, pitiless tone in her voice and the way her green eyes glittered with satisfaction at the effect she was having on him.

“This isn’t gonna change anything,” he insisted, trying another tactic since the first had failed so miserably. “This isn’t gonna make him feel any better – killing me, or – or hurting me, or whatever it is you think you’re gonna do…”

“Not think. Know,” Dawn corrected him, her smile fading away into a hard line. “And it *will* make him feel better. It’ll make him feel safer.” Her voice trembled with anger and a firm conviction that she was right as she continued. “Knowing that you’re gone…dead…and you can never, ever touch him again.”

Slowly, emphatically, she added, “You are never going to hurt him again, Warren. You’re not.” As she spoke, her fingers played slowly over the lines of the tiny device in her hand, making sure that it was in Warren’s line of vision.

His demeanor instantly changed, became placating and appeasing, and he swallowed hard before he said quickly, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Dawn…I’m never gonna touch Spike again, okay? I mean, if you’ve really gotten that chip out of his head, I can’t… right? I couldn’t hurt him again if I wanted to…”

“And you do.” It was a statement, not a question. “Want to.”

He did not attempt to deny it; he simply ignored her words and went on, knowing that nothing he could say in response to that would be in any way helpful. His eyes were focused on the controller in her hand. “Hurting me…it’s not gonna help him at all. It’s not gonna change what he’s feeling…” he repeated, trying to make her see his pathetically weak point. He was trying desperately to hit on some argument that would change her mind, lessen her desire to make him suffer.

At the moment, he really didn’t have a lot to work with.

“A disgusting little piece of garbage like you can’t even begin to imagine what he’s feeling!” she snapped. “You don’t feel *anything*, Warren! You’re a heartless monster, and there is absolutely no excuse for the things you’ve done to him. You deserve to die.” As she spoke, her hand tightened around the device without even realizing she was doing it, her fingers dangerously close to the button.

“Okay!” he gasped, his eyes wide with fear. “Okay, maybe I do! But Dawn – if you kill me – there’s no going back. You know that, right? Once you cross that line…once you become a *murderer*, Dawn…there’s no way to take that back again. Can you handle that? Because I really don’t think you can! And for what, anyway, if it won’t do Spike any good? Nothing!” he answered his own question, his desperation clear in every note of his nearly panicked voice.

“No, not nothing,” she corrected him, her voice low and intense, calmer now, regaining control of herself and the situation. “I happen to think that justice is worth something, Warren. And that’s what this is…justice. You. Paying for what you’ve done. No one else is going to make you…so it’s up to me.”

“No…Dawn, I’m gonna stand trial! I’m probably gonna go to jail for a long, long time! You really shouldn’t get yourself any more involved in this, just let me go and…”

“What happened to your high-priced lawyer, Warren?” she taunted him, her eyebrows raised questioningly. “I thought you were gonna get away with all of it. Personally, I think that’s closer to the truth. You just don’t want me to hurt you. You’d say anything to get what you want, wouldn’t you, Warren?” Her eyes narrowed and the laughter faded from her voice as she added, “You’re such a liar.”

“But…no…I don’t think…”

“You know…I thought I told you to shut up,” she interrupted, her voice soft, her eyes flashing with an emotion that was more intense than mere anger…she was tired of listening to his excuses, his pathetic attempts to justify and minimize his sick, twisted abuse of her friend.

But somehow, he still felt he had a chance at convincing her to spare him, and kept on talking, desperately trying to change her mind, to dissuade her from her chosen course of action.

And a moment later, Warren’s feeble attempts at arguing in defense of his life were silenced, swallowed up in screaming.


Haltingly, struggling to regain control of his emotions, Spike somehow managed to tell Buffy what Dawn had said about going over to Janice’s. Just as he had already known, before she even said a word, Buffy didn’t know anything about it. Dawn had been lying about the whole thing.

“I need to make a call,” Buffy said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as she stood to go into the kitchen. She immediately stopped when she felt his hand clutching hers for just a moment before he let go, not even realizing he had done it.

He just desperately did not want to be alone, even for a moment.

*Just a few minutes,* Warren’s words echoed in his head. *All it would take…*

“Come on,” she said gently, beckoning with her hand, and when he rose she put her arm around his waist and led him with her into the kitchen. They had reached a point of understanding so deep that he didn’t even need to speak for her to see what he needed.

She made her call, keeping it very brief, and then hung up, turning to face him with her arms crossed over her chest, her lips pressed into a thin line as she tried to restrain her anger. “Janice’s mom doesn’t know anything about it. She’s not over there.”

Spike stood up from the chair where he had sat, anxiously waiting while she talked to Janice’s mother. His eyes were full of worry as he said, “We’ve got to find her! Warren could…”

“I don’t think he’s gonna go after Dawn,” Buffy quickly assured him, hanging up the phone and going to put her hands comfortingly on his arms, pulling him close to her. “No, I think Dawn’s just out having some typical juvenile delinquent fun,” she said, a tired, irritated sound in her voice, towards Dawn, not him.

She tried to reassure him, looking him in the eye firmly as she said, “Dawn has lived on the Hellmouth her whole life.” She paused, frowning, adding as an afterthought, “Most of which was fake, but still…she knows how to take care of herself. She’s my little sister. And I’ve taught her well. She knows how to defend herself against bigger, stronger things that try to hurt her.”

Then she added, with a wide, fake smile, her eyes betraying her seething anger toward her irresponsible little sister, “And when she gets home, she’s gonna get a chance to practice.”

The more she thought about how Dawn had taken advantage of her absence – and Spike’s current lack of assertiveness – to get out and party, leaving him here to face this latest uncertainty alone…the more furious she became with her little sister.

Buffy and Spike returned to the couch and sat down, and she put her arms around him, pulling him down into her embrace, soothing the torment of fear that still consumed him with her soft, gentle touch and quiet, comforting voice.

After a very long time, just sitting with him like that, holding him and reassuring him with her presence, Buffy finally managed to calm him down enough that the tears and trembling ceased. She stayed there with him, gently running her hand up and down his back in a steady, calming motion, until she felt the tension ease from his body, felt him gradually relax against her.

Emotionally overwrought and exhausted from the emotional roller coaster that the past few days had been, it wasn’t long before he had fallen asleep in her arms. She had known in her head that it would be this way – a few steps forward, and then a step back; slow progress fraught with setbacks – but it didn’t make it any easier.

They were close enough at this point that she felt his pain, his fear, as her own. Every time hope started to rise, and it started to seem like they had crossed the line so that from that point on, there would be only progress – something like this happened, a setback that reminded them both of how far he still had to go.

Long after he fell asleep, she sat there, still holding him and absently running her fingers through his loose blonde curls. In the stillness that surrounded her, she began again to think about Dawn, and her careless actions that had contributed to the incident tonight.

Though he hadn’t said a word to her about the argument he had had with Dawn before she left, Buffy could tell from the hurt that remained in his eyes when she had mentioned her sister, that there was more to the incident than he was telling her. It was only too clear to her, from his slightly evasive manner about what had led up to Dawn’s leaving, that Dawn had said something hurtful to him before she had left.

One thing was certain. She and her sister were going to have quite a talk when she got home.


It was just a little after nine o’clock when Dawn did get home; true to her word, she had not stayed out very late. She didn’t really need to; she had all the time she wanted to deal with Warren and make him pay for hurting Spike. She just had to avoid…

She stopped suddenly on the sidewalk outside her house, dismayed at the sight of the SUV Buffy had driven to work, parked in the driveway. What was her sister doing home? She would have to think fast if she was going to avoid getting into trouble for this one. Buffy was going to kill her for going out without telling her.

She slipped quietly through the front door, closing it softly behind her, glancing around as she did. It seemed safe at first glance; all was quiet and still. Spike lay on the couch in the living room, sound asleep. She noticed with a frown that his striking face was tear-streaked and troubled, even in sleep.

There was no sign of her sister.

Silently, she slipped up the stairs, hoping to get to her room and to bed before Buffy could catch her. She reached the top of the stairs, and saw that Buffy’s bedroom door was closed. There was no sign of any activity upstairs, either.

*So far so good,* she thought, as she opened the door to her room with a sigh of relief and backed inside, glancing around the hallway one last time before she closed it silently behind her and turned around…

Right into her sister’s smiling face, inches from her own.

She jumped and let out a little shriek. “Buffy!” she gasped, the hint of anger beginning in her tone. “What are you doing here?”

Buffy didn’t even acknowledge her question. She stood there staring at her with piercing green eyes, her hands on her hips in a slightly threatening stance. “Where have you been?” she demanded angrily.

Dawn had been startled to find her sister here, in her bedroom, after making it through the rest of the house and thinking she was home free. And the unyielding expression that was not only on Buffy’s face but expressed through every motion, every tensed muscle of her body, was quite intimidating, though Dawn would never have admitted it to her.

Very quickly, Dawn’s fear turned to anger, and suddenly she was furious, at herself for jumping and giving away the effect her sister’s little surprise had had on her; and at Buffy, for provoking the response.

“At Janice’s,” the lie fell easily from her lips, her tone defensive and more than a little hostile.

“You’re lying,” Buffy shot back instantly, her tone accusing as she raised her arms to cross them over her chest. “I called Janice’s mother. You weren’t there. You’re weren’t even *with* Janice, Dawn. She’s been at home all night.” She said nothing else for a moment, just raised her eyebrows and looked expectantly at Dawn.

“So I went out for a little while. Big deal. Leave me alone,” Dawn muttered, moving pointedly around her sister and picking up some clothes she had left on her floor, which would otherwise have stayed there for another week. She was trying to act unconcerned, to look as if she was too busy to waste time talking to her sister.

“It *is* a big deal, Dawn!” Buffy insisted, her voice trembling with rising anger, disbelieving at her little sister’s attitude. “Warren is out there, and he is very dangerous!”

“I’m not scared of Warren,” Dawn sneered, with a little secret smile to herself. Then she remembered that Buffy could not find out her secret, and shrugged carelessly, “He’s not after me, anyway.”

“No, he’s after Spike,” Buffy pointed out, stepping closer to Dawn, one hand on her hip again. “And he’s not stupid, Dawn. What do you think just might be a great way of getting to *Spike*, Dawnie? Try messing with you or me! And he’s not gonna try messing with *me*!”

Dawn glared at her resentfully. “Well, he didn’t,” she said, her voice low. Despite her anger, she really didn’t want to fight with her sister. That would be risking grounding, and that would be risking the remainder of her plan.

“No, he didn’t,” Buffy admitted flatly, holding her sister’s gaze firmly, her eyes blazing. “But I hope you had a lot of fun tonight, Dawnie. I hope it was worth it. Because while you were out partying or whatever you were doing, Spike was sitting here at home scared out of his mind…”

“He doesn’t need to worry about me either!” Dawn broke in, her voice rising. “I can take care of myself, okay?”

“Not about that, Dawn,” Buffy corrected her, shaking her head. She paused before going on, “The controller for his chip is gone.”

Dawn felt her stomach do a little flip, and tried to look nonchalant, unconsciously putting her hands in her pockets where the device was concealed. “It is?” she asked, turning toward her sister and putting on a concerned look.

“Yes,” Buffy bit off the word, with a challenging look. “It is. And he’s been terrified all night. We have no idea where it is…who has it…and he’s been sitting here alone and scared because *you* wanted to go off and have a good time and couldn’t be bothered with your friend who’s just been through the worst ordeal of his entire life and is just a little traumatized right now!” Her tone was scathing and sarcastic as she glared at her sister, daring her to say one word in her own defense.

For the first time, Dawn began to feel guilty. “I – I didn’t know,” she said, her voice softening as she met Buffy’s eyes.

Buffy looked at her for a moment before her own expression softened as well. “I know,” she said quietly. After a moment she added, “Have you seen it? The controller?”

Dawn shook her head. “No.” All the anger and defiance had gone out of her with the ironic realization that her efforts at avenging her friend had inadvertently resulted in more suffering for him. “I’m sorry, Buffy,” she said quietly, partly because she really was, and partly because she was beginning to calm down and realize that extreme, uncharacteristic meekness was the only possible option not resulting in the complete loss of her freedom.

“I’m not the one you need to tell,” Buffy pointed out, but the anger was gone from her tone as well. She heaved a weary sigh, and sat down on the edge of Dawn’s bed. “We need to find that stupid control device. If the wrong person found it…”

“We’ll find it,” Dawn said quietly, with an assurance that Buffy found somehow comforting, though she herself was not at all sure. Dawn stood there for a moment, subdued, before she said softly, “I’m gonna go downstairs.”

Buffy nodded without looking at her, still lost in her own troublesome thoughts.

As Dawn descended the stairs, she thought over her plan again, reconsidering a few things she knew now that she had overlooked. She needed to talk to Anya, needed to see if they could find a solution. She knew that Spike would surely tell Buffy if she revealed her plan to him; but there was no way in the world that she was going to let him go a whole week in fear and uncertainty, wondering about the whereabouts of the device, while she carried out his vengeance.

That would be just a little bit self-defeating.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, her eyes fell on her friend, still sleeping, but tossing fitfully, his features twisted in a frown, as a soft moan escaped his lips.

A nightmare. Once again, Dawn felt the guilt of what she had accidentally caused to happen tonight, twisting her stomach in knots and making her feel sick inside.

She hurried to his side, gently shaking him to rouse him from the torment that had followed him into sleep. “Spike…” she whispered. “Spike, wake up…”

With a start he awoke, his eyes wide and fearful, pulling back away from her, raising one hand as if to strike out in the instant before he became fully aware, and recognized her. He drew in a deep, shaky breath, his startled blue eyes focused on hers, just staring at her for a moment.

Then, suddenly, his strong arms gripped her forcefully, pulling her into a tight, protective embrace, and she felt another wave of shame at the realization that his fear for *her* safety had not been the least of the torment she had brought on him tonight. His arms, though firm, were still trembling with mingled relief and fear, as he held her to him as if he would never let her go.

“If you ever do that to me again, Bit, I’ll bloody tear you apart, do you understand me?” he growled against her shoulder, his voice low and gruff but still tearful with his immense relief that she was home and safe. “Don’t ever, *ever* do that to me again!” The command was both pleading and fierce at the same time.

“I won’t,” she promised in a whisper, returning his embrace tightly, with all her much slighter strength. “I won’t.” And then she added the words she had wanted to say all night, in a tender, trembling whisper so full of emotion that it made her throat and chest ache as she spoke.

“I’m sorry.”