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“Do you think he *can* talk? Like, physically?” Dawn mused thoughtfully from where she lay across the foot of Buffy’s bed. “I mean – he probably doesn’t remember how right now…or know what the words mean – but do you think we could teach him?”

Buffy smiled patiently at her little sister from her seat at the head of the bed, beside a very sleepy vampire, having just consumed another three bags of blood from the stock that Anya had brought. Now he was snuggled comfortably against Buffy’s side, her arm wrapped protectively around his slight frame, his head bobbing slightly every few moments as he tried not to fall asleep.

“I think that if he was more awake – and really himself right now – he’d be ticked off to hear you talking about him as if he’s not here,” she remarked lightly, deliberately avoiding the question to which she had no answer.

Spike’s head drooped sharply, and he sat up with a little start, glancing at her with anxious eyes – before immediately calming a bit when his gaze fell on her gentle, reassuring smile.

“Come here,” she murmured, affection obvious in her voice as she scooted just a little away from him across the mattress, and guided his head down to rest in her lap. “Go ahead, you can sleep, Spike…”

The exhaustion of the ordeal he had been through was not something she expected him to get over completely with one night of undisturbed rest.

Wonder and uncertainty giving way to a shy sort of gratitude in his wide blue eyes, Spike obediently rested his head on her thighs, slowly relaxing as sleep overtook him again.

Several hours had passed since they had awakened that morning to the pleasant surprise of his restored sight – and neither Slayer nor vampire had moved from the spot yet. Buffy had called in to the Doublemeat from the phone beside the bed, claiming a “family emergency” – and with Dawn right there to hear her do it, it had been next to impossible at that point to convince the girl that the same excuse would not work to excuse her from school for the day.

“If Spike’s qualifies as *your* family, then he’s *my* family too!” she had insisted. “In fact – he’s more my family than he is yours. At least I hope so – because if Spike’s really like family to you, Buffy, then *ewww* to what you two were doing all last year!”

Buffy had given in and called the school – just to shut her little sister up.

And besides – though she would not have admitted it to Dawn just yet – she wasn’t quite sure that she could face the day ahead, taking care of the fragile, injured vampire in her arms, all by herself.

Dawn had proven her helpfulness shortly after that, going downstairs to get Spike’s blood, and Buffy had stayed with him in the bed, holding him close to her, doing all she could to reassure him that everything was okay, that he was safe here, in her home, and she and Dawn cared about him, and would not allow anyone to hurt him.

Dawn had joined them on the bed as soon as Spike’s blood had warmed – and none of them had left the room since. The Summers’ sisters spent the remainder of the morning just talking quietly – some to Spike, but mostly to each other, knowing that the effect was almost the same for Spike, either way. It was the calming, steady rhythms of their voices that seemed to mean the most to him right now.

Dawn raised up on one elbow and looked thoughtfully at the sleepy vampire for a moment, before asking her sister, “How much do you think he really understands right now?”

Buffy shrugged slightly, once again feeling as if the question was not one she was qualified to answer.

“No way of knowing, really,” she finally replied, when Dawn kept looking at her expectantly. “I mean – he knows a few words already – and he learned a few more just in a few minutes last night. I think it’s just – like – he has to start from scratch – you know? The only things he knows are things he’s been told enough times for him to finally get what they mean – *since* the gunshot.”

“Since way past that,” Dawn corrected, shaking her head with a frown of dismay. “Because it had to have taken a while to even recover enough to function at all.”

Both girls were silent, Buffy slowly nodding her acceptance of her sister’s point, as she gazed down at Spike’s head in her lap with troubled eyes, running her fingers gently through the disheveled blonde curls, but carefully avoiding the tender site of the wound that had caused so much damage.

“And who knows how much better he’d be doing already, if he’d been getting enough to eat all along?” Dawn’s voice darkened with anger at the thought of the person who had starved and tortured her vibrant, confident friend, eventually replacing him with the broken creature she now saw in his place.

“That’s over now,” Buffy murmured, her own voice sounding sleepy and relaxed, a soft smile on her lips as she looked down at Spike’s peaceful expression in sleep. “He’s with us now – and he’s gonna be fine.”

After a moment, Dawn asked, almost managing to mask the impatience in her voice, “So – when do you think he’s gonna wake up? I wanna start trying to teach him some things…”

“It might be a little while, Dawnie,” Buffy cut her off, a mild reprimand in her voice. “He’s been through – through an awful lot, Honey. He needs to rest, and more than anything, he just needs to feel like he’s safe. I think for a little while, a few days anyway – we should just let him get used to us…let him learn to trust us…”

“He *does* trust us!” Dawn objected, slightly indignant.

“Yeah – as long as we don’t make any sudden moves, and he knows where we are at all times,” Buffy countered dubiously. Then she sighed. “Not like we can blame him. All he remembers is being hurt, Dawn. It’s gonna take a little while for him to feel truly safe – even with you.”

Dawn nodded slowly, taking in her words. Then she frowned, the last of those words suddenly registering with her. “With *us*, Buffy,” she corrected softly. “With us.”

Buffy was silent for a moment, before letting out a heavy sigh. “No,” she confessed quietly. “I said what I meant, Dawn. It’ll take a while for him to trust *you*.” She paused before adding in a tone of deep resignation, “The other – for me – it’ll probably take – a lot longer…”

Dawn was clearly still a bit confused – but Buffy had no intention of enlightening her.

The truth was hard enough to accept herself.

It would not take long for Spike to be able to place his full trust in Dawn, judging by how quickly he had taken to her the night before. There seemed to be some sort of an instinctive knowledge in his broken mind, some trace of memory that told him that Dawn was safe – that she never had hurt him, and he could trust her not to hurt him now.

Buffy knew that if he had any such instinctive memories of *her* -- they would in no way inspire such absolute trust. Tears welled in her eyes, as she traced her fingertips lightly along his bruised brow.

*I’ll make it up to you, Spike,* she vowed silently. *I will – I promise.*

*************************************

Sunset fell over Sunnydale – signaling the end of the daylight hours, when it was safe for the oblivious, and primarily good-intentioned citizens to be out and about; and marking the hours of the night that belonged to the monsters – both otherworldly, and those of the more human variety.

One such monster made his way swiftly through the dark woods just outside Restfield Cemetery, watching carefully around him as he went, without slowing his pace, as he headed toward his destination. He had spent enough time aware of the dark creatures that others did not know even existed, to know to keep an eye out for danger.

As he stole quietly into the dark tunnels where the Initiative had once reigned, he slowed his pace a bit, and tightened his grip on the stake he had tucked into his dark pants. In the darkness of these caves, anything could be hiding – lying in wait – though he liked to think that most of Sunnydale’s nasties would know better than to mess with him by now – if for no other reason than his close association with the Slayer.

Or perhaps, because of the bound, broken vampire he was here to see – actual physical evidence of what he was capable of visiting upon any demon foolish enough to cross him.

It had been a tough night.

He could feel the tension that had been building up in him all day, intensifying, as he thought of all the frustrations of the past couple of days – the rising sense of inadequacy that he could never quite escape – and the fact that even now, with his unworthy competition out of the way, she *still* refused to choose him – to *see* him.

*Time to work off some of those frustrations.*

He smiled darkly at the thought as he quickened his pace, just as the entrance to the room where his prize was kept came into view.

*I’ll teach that little freak to think he can take her from me!*

“Oh, Spike…” he softly mocked his prisoner in a slow, lilting sing-song, still outside the door. “I’m back…” His voice hardened as he ordered sharply, “And you’d better be on your knees when I walk through this door!”

He enjoyed a private smirk at the thought of the chained, helpless creature, unable to obey the command, yet scrambling and struggling desperately to assume the required position, despite the bonds at his wrists that prevented it.

The smile faded when nothing but total silence met his order, rather than the expected clattering of the chains that usually would have been heard as the little vampire made the useless attempt to obey him. Irritation filled him at the thought that Spike might be unconscious at the moment – and his sadistic mockery wasted. Or perhaps, he thought, cheering up a bit, the vampire *was* conscious, but just to weak to respond at all to the command.

*I *did* forget to feed him last time – last *couple* times,* he reminded himself with a carelessly malicious grin, and a slight shrug. *Oh, well – I know how to make him jump when I say so!*

“Uh-oh,” he taunted in a low, ominous tone, as he stepped into the doorway. “Not quite quick…enough…” The last word died on his lips, as he froze in shock at the unexpected sight that met his eyes.

The chains hung loose against the wall of the cave – empty.

Spike was gone.

*********************************

At some point during the afternoon, Dawn had brought the small television from the spare bedroom up and plugged it in – and so it was that just before sunset that evening, the girls and Spike were all three huddled comfortably at the head of the bed, watching some melodramatic movie on Lifetime.

“Spike would kill us if he knew,” Dawn giggled, affectionately squeezing his shoulders from her spot on the side of him that was not currently occupied by Buffy.

“Yeah,” Buffy smiled wistfully, looking down at the rapt expression of interest on the vampire’s face as he stared at the moving colors on the screen – certainly too small and distant, on the dresser across the room, for him to make sense of them. Still, the screen and the voices emanating from it managed to hold his attention.

A low chuckle of nostalgic amusement rose in Buffy’s throat, as she shook her head slightly, and murmured, “Some things never change.” In an impulsive display of affection, before she even thought about what she was doing, she dropped a brief, tender kiss on his temple.

And suddenly – he didn’t seem to find the television so interesting anymore.

In fact – neither did Dawn.

Buffy began to feel uncomfortable under the startled stares of both of them – Spike’s expression wondering and unsure, as if he was not really sure what had just happened; and Dawn’s expression a mixture of disbelief – and pleased satisfaction.

Before anyone could say a word – the sound of the doorbell was heard downstairs.

*Thank God,* Buffy thought with a desperate wave of relief, as she gently disentangled herself from the vampire leaning on her and gave her sister a sheepish smile. “Gotta get the door,” she explained weakly.

“Uh-huh,” Dawn muttered. “You do that. Run, Buffy.”

She rolled her eyes, as she set about reassuring a slightly nervous Spike, who was staring after Buffy with wide, longing eyes, a slight whimper rising in his throat as he reached out a tentative hand toward the spot where she had been.

“It’s okay,” she assured him gently, pulling him toward her – though she knew already that she was going to be a poor substitute for what her sister was already coming to mean to the broken vampire.

*You’re right, Buffy,* she thought with a bittersweet smile. *Some things never change.*

*********************************

Buffy strode impatiently toward the front door, finding that despite her need to escape the situation she had accidentally just created upstairs – she already was longing to get back. Whoever it was at the door was going to have to just come back later, she decided as she reached for the handle. It couldn’t be *that* important – not in comparison to what she had to deal with at the moment.

She opened the door – and froze in surprise.

Her eyes widened, and her hand fell from the doorknob as she just stood there, silent for a long moment.

Finally, a hoarse whisper left her lips, confusion evident in her voice.

“*Angel*.”