"I'll go check on Spike," Dawn said to no one in particular.

She climbed the stairs silently, listening for sounds of movement above. There were none.

"Spike?" she called.

"In here," Spike answered in a distant, muffled voice.

When Dawn found him, he was still lying face down on the carpet next to the gaping, demon-made hole in the floor.

"Are you okay?" Dawn asked, folding her arms across her chest and leaning on the doorframe, feigning only mild interest.

Spike gingerly pushed himself up to a sitting position. Wait, Dawn was checking on him? This was new. Well, actually, it was old, her caring about
him. It just hadn't been of the now for a long time.

"Only need a minute is all. Bells ringin' in my head." He ran a hand through his hair. "And the demon?"

"Smashed some more stuff and ran out. Cuz there just can't be enough broken glass in here these days."

Dawn hesitated for a second before leaving her place in the doorway and sitting down on the bed. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he said warily. Wasn't exactly the time for 20 questions, but he didn't want to disturb this fragile moment of peace between them. And, as the
feeling in his legs was returning with excruciating slowness, it wasn't like he was in any shape to go vaulting off after the foreign exchange demon right
that minute anyway.

"What you said down there earlier, about your soul, was it true? You really did it for Buffy?" Dawn wore a guarded expression, tucking a strand of hair
behind her ear self-consciously.

"I did," he replied simply, meeting her eyes briefly then looking away. Spike paused, studying the pattern of the wallpaper while searching for words.

"Look, Dawn, I know what you must think of me. And you're right to think it. But after I tried to --."

He stumbled over the words. "After I hurt Buffy, I couldn't live with myself, with what I'd done. Had to do something to change things."

Dawn considered his words. "That's what she told me."

Spike's head jerked up in surprise, but he said nothing, waiting expectantly for her to go on. "Buffy said you knew what you'd done was wrong, and
that's why you left."

"She told you that, did she?" Spike asked softly.

Buffy never ceased to surprise him.

"So you're not gonna hurt her like that again?"

Gone was all of the bravado that had accompanied her "wake up on fire" speech.

"No, I'm not," Spike said firmly, searching for her eyes and gazing steadily at her. "And I'm not gonna hurt you either. I'm gonna do my best to make
sure that I don't disappoint you again. Ever."

"Good." Dawn exhaled. "No more Big Bad, huh?"

"Well, there might just be enough Big Bad to take out the Tower of Power when I find him." When a flicker of worry passed over her face, he said, "The
Big Bad's just props and attitude now, Dawn. Just a persona to put on. Doesn't change anything. Not really."

Dawn chewed on her lip for moment, thinking. "If you can take care of the attitude, I think I can help with the props." When his eyebrow shot up, she
rushed on. "After you came back, when you were kind of, you know, out of it, Buffy boxed up some of your stuff and took it to the school. I saw her take
your coat out of her closet and pack it up. You never saw it?"

Spike was gobsmacked. Why in the hell had she kept it? He couldn't believe it wasn't ashes. But there was no time for that now, he thought to himself.
"Didn't want any reminders of my past," he said slowly. "I never looked at the stuff, but I know where it is."

He took an unnecessary breath and squared his shoulders. "Right then. Off to the basement it is."

Dawn stood first, extending her long fingers out to him and waiting for him to take her hand. He stared at her for a long moment before reaching out
to touch her.

"I'm gonna do my part, Bit." He stopped at the now-unfamiliar sound of his nickname for her, but her fingers only tightened around his. "To bring her
back."

"I know." Dawn smiled at him, and it was like a ray of sunshine in the dark. How long had it been since she smiled at him? "So does she."