safe haven

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They are the property of Joss Whedon. I just borrow them. No copyright infringement is intended nor implied.

part four

Cha-ching! Cha-ching! Nearly everyone in the Bellagio was winning money tonight, thought Dawn absently. Her skin was prickling from the vibrations of the emptying slot machines and the echo of clattering coins. Her eardrums throbbed from the clashing sounds, and she wondered if permanent hearing loss was a real possibility. Her heart was beating way too fast, too, as she looked around the room at the used up and burnt out demon fighters surrounding her. Dawn had felt that way. Used up and burnt out. That's why she had come to the safe haven. To escape the constant fighting, and to stop running and hiding for a little while –- just like them. But then everything changed. The most wonderful sight she'd seen since the morning before Buffy died had appeared in the middle of a casino, and now he was standing inches away from her face.

As she stared into Spike's eyes, the memories of that last day in the sunshine with Buffy became as vivid as the feel of the chips in her hands. Hard and fleeting. She couldn't really focus on the words coming out of Spike's mouth. All she saw was Buffy in his eyes and the bright sunshine of that morning glowing from his face.

Awaking early and still in their bed clothes –- t-shirts and sweat pants –- the two sisters had carried cups of hot tea to the garden behind the apartment and sat, whispering earnestly about days gone by. Buffy talked about Spike, about Angel, about love. They'd just learned that Spike and Angel most likely had died in an alley in Los Angeles. Destroyed by agents of Wolfram and Hart. Buffy admitted that she never should have doubted Angel's commitment to fighting evil. She also said that she should have sought out Spike and made him believe the truth about her feelings for him. Then, they had sipped more tea. Sitting close together on the hard bench in the stone garden, they'd found comfort in each other, and in the beauty of that day; the sunshine, and the wealth of white flowers, resting heavily on bent branches. Moments later, a strong breeze worked its way through the Italian sky and into the garden – and without warning, it began to rain white petals. Buffy called it a snowstorm with flower flakes. Then she and Dawn smiled at each other. Really smiled.

Now Dawn was in Las Vegas and there was Spike, and he was smiling. He was also talking – a lot – and very animated, too. Hands gesturing broadly, moving their way in and out of his pockets occasionally, as if he'd remembered something he needed, and then decided ‘no'. Cigarettes, Dawn guessed. He probably still smoked. Though, those last few months in Sunnydale, she didn't recall seeing him smoke.

Damn, he was still gesturing and smiling. A big bright grin on his face. He looked – well, he looked damn happy. What was that all about? Could it really be that he was happy to see her? She wondered. Sure, he'd be happy. Maybe he didn't know about Buffy. Expected to see her turn a corner any moment. Sorry to disappoint, she almost said aloud. But that couldn't be it. Everyone in the world knew that the Slayer who made the choice that changed the world forever was dead. Didn't they?

“Nibblet?” he was saying. “Didn't mean to run on like that. Just so good seein' you. Been too long since…well, since a lot of things.” Spike brushed his hand nervously through his hair. It was curlier than before, and not as blond. He wasn't keeping it as brightly bleached as it used to be. He must be less concerned about hair color, Dawn assumed, and more interested in other things. Like clothes. His shirt was very bright and silky – a blue and aqua print, open nearly to the middle of his chest. His exposed body looked toned, strong muscles and sharp lines etched on pale white flesh provided a nice contrast to the black duster and bright shirt. Dawn also noticed she might be an inch or even two taller than Spike now. She loved being tall as she consciously straightened, making her frame even longer. He didn't seem to pay it any mind, though. He just kept chattering away. Like talk was the best and only thing he could offer. He hadn't embraced her. No hug. That struck Dawn as odd. Then again, maybe not. Last time she'd seen him alive, or undead, they hadn't been really friendly toward each other. Okay, she hadn't been friendly to him. But absence makes the heart grow fonder. What the fuck? She hadn't tried to hug him either.

Now, he was talking about Faith. How'd he know she was there with Faith?

“I see Faith is traveling with you?” he said. “She's looking a little worn...around the eyes, might say.”

“You've s--...oh, we're both here on vacation,” Dawn finally said, deciding not to ask Spike when he'd seen Faith, and at the same time, being very pleased she'd hesitated for only an instant when he mentioned her. “We needed to get away from the day to day battles, you know. I guess that's what you're doing here, too.”

“No, Pet. Actually…Vegas is home.”

“Oh really,” she sounded surprised, which she was. “Since when?”

“Long story.” The casual smile and happy go-lucky look in his eyes faded. He was staring intently into her eyes now, his gaze burning into her. At least that's the way Dawn felt. Hot. And she was nervous, too. She looked back at the chips in her hand and the cards on the board, and asked, “You want a drink? I know a place up on the other end of the Strip. Care to join me?” She gestured with her head and began gathering her winnings from the blackjack table. Of course, she knew, he'd follow her. So as not to keep a long-lost-thought-for-certain-he-was-dead friend waiting, Dawn got up quickly, tipped the dealer fifty bucks (she'd been having a really good night), grabbed her remaining chips, and led Spike out of the casino and into the night.


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As soon as they'd walked out of Bellagio, Dawn took a right, made her way past the huge fountain and continued to her left, heading up the street toward the older part of the Strip. Spike was walking behind her, eerily quiet. After giving her the chatter-box routine in the casino, she was somewhat surprised by his silence. But then, wasn't that Spike? Never really the same, then again, always the same. Dawn realized that on some level, she was in some sort of shock. Perhaps even catatonia, as Giles might have said. But he was dead. So chances were he wasn't going to say a thing. Then again, Spike had been dead, too. He still was. So anything was possible. Wow! Dawn thought. She was definitely thinking too much, or perhaps, it was catatonia. She smiled, as she thought of Giles again.

Dawn took a really deep breath, and glanced over her shoulder. She was walking so fast that Spike almost seemed to be jogging to keep up. They'd traveled at least six blocks in what felt like seconds. All the blocks on the Strip were long, too. And even at 4 a.m., it was still damn hot. So Dawn was sweating. Perspiration dripping down her back, between her breasts, and over her thighs. Yeah, it was damn hot.

“Forget the heat,” she mumbled quietly. There was Spike to think about. What was she going to tell him about who she was now? No longer was she his Niblet, pet, or whatever damn little nick name he had for her. She wasn't that innocent girl. She couldn't even pretend to be that girl. Not anymore. God, she was screwing Faith. How'd she explain that to Spike?

“Dawnie!” he called. “Dawnie, why not slow down a wee bit, love?”

“Call me Dawn, Spike. No one calls me Dawnie anymore.”

“Okay…Dawn,” he said without sounding ruffled. “Are we going to get to this bar in nanno seconds or can we just take it easy? Nothing closes in Vegas. No need to race.” He was walking next to her now. Leather duster moving freely as he took his usual long strides. But, nothing was usual. Dawn's brain felt frozen. What was going on? Maybe she'd only imagined that he'd been jogging to keep up. Now he was having no problem whatsoever keeping at her side. She hadn't slowed down. Had she? Then her mind felt like it stumbled. Was Spike really there? Had she imagined the last twenty minutes? She stopped suddenly.

Tears were falling from her eyes. “Spike, you're alive! Or, I don't know? You're here. Right? I can't…It's been so hard. So. Damn. Hard. All dead. All gone. Just me and Faith, and the killing and the hiding, and the…” she was gulping tears and trying to talk and looking at him. He was really there. Her first best friend in the whole world was standing staring at her. Head tilted to the side. Eyes, his beautiful eyes, looking into her very soul. His eyes were smiling. Wet eyes. Spike was crying? Then he pulled her to him. The hug. The one she'd missed in the casino. The one she had missed for what seemed like forever. It was there now. He was holding her. His arms fully surrounding her – her body pressed against his. He was holding her so tightly she could hardly breathe. She hoped that she wouldn't need to breathe for a long time. She didn't want to move. She never wanted to be away from his embrace ever again.

“Dawn, baby, please don't cry.” Spike was holding his lips next to her ear. His soft cool mouth caressing her face. His tears moistening her skin. They were standing on a sidewalk on the Las Vegas Strip, holding each other and she had no intention of ever pulling away from him. No one noticed anyway. They looked like they belonged together. Her and Spike. And that felt good to Dawn. So good that her tears weren't so wet – weren't even that necessary – after awhile.


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It was the only place she could think of for them to go. The eternal embrace with Spike had finally ended and she wanted to be some place where they could talk. No point going to her hotel room. Faith was probably in bed – exhausted from the night's routine. Dawn didn't want to talk to Spike with her around, anyway. Not yet. He hadn't offered to go to his place – wherever that was. So she suggested the Olympic Garden Adult Cabaret. Perhaps, not the best spot for a conversation, considering it was basically a strip joint. But Dawn knew a few of the bartenders and the small tables in the private rooms on the first floor – the floor where the women performed – were pretty secluded. Surprisingly so. Definitely less noisy than the second floor – where the boys stripped and got twenty bucks per lap dance or so she'd heard. Dawn and Faith hadn't gone up to that floor yet. Women watching nude men perform were too out of control compared to men lusting after nude women shaking their tits. Something about female demon hunters on the prowl – it was always hard for them to let go of the hunt – no matter what the species or gender. Dawn knew that first-hand from being with Faith.

She led Spike through the turnstiles at the entrance to Olympic Garden, gave a hundred dollar bill to the cashier, covering both of their admissions to the private room, and walked directly past the bar to the back area of the first floor. As they made their way through the crowd, she noticed that Spike didn't seem to be very interested in the dancing boobs that were being thrust into his face as they walked by the circular stages. However, she didn't miss the easy nods of greeting directed to him by several dancers, patrons, and bartenders. Clearly, he was not an unfamiliar figure in good old Vegas, thought Dawn.

When they sat in the booth, Spike moved pretty close to the inside wall, leaving room for Dawn to sit next to him if she chose to do that. She didn't, and eased into the seat opposite him.

“Feel better,” he said, finally finding that pack of cigarettes he'd been searching for, and quickly pulling one out of the box, and lighting it up.

“Yeah, just surprised…seeing you,” she didn't stutter, which pleased her.

“Yeah, I know it's been a long time, Nib–, Dawn,” he said. “You were just surprised to see me.”

“You didn't seem surprised to see me, though.” Dawn looked around the room, trying to spot a waitress. She really wanted a drink. “Can I have a cigarette?”

“Mmm, smoking now?” he said, a little too smugly while extending the pack in her direction.

“Well yeah, I'm twenty-three years old, Spike. I smoke, drink, kill Scourge demons, most every day for the past five years, and pretty much do as I please,” she spat it out fast, sounding gruff and mature or so she hoped. She tapped the cigarette on the table before placing it in her mouth and leaning forward to get a light from Spike.

“Yeah, I know you and Faith are demon hunters. Top of the line from what I hear. Barely leave a target in one piece. Not just dead but torn and shredded, too.” Spike did the nod thing again, and within seconds, a waiter was standing next to them.

“Jack Daniels on the rocks,” she ordered, exhaling the cigarette smoke easily. She rarely smoked, but the burn felt good in the back of her throat. She knew she was still a little stunned. The nicotine might help bring her back to earth – or not.

“Make mine the same, but straight up,” Spike, added leisurely.

“Buffy's dead.” No point in preamble, she decided. Just in case he didn't know about Buffy, Dawn had made up her mind to get it out fast.

“I know, love,” he didn't flinch, Dawn noticed. “And Giles, Willow, Xander, Andrew, and all of the Slayers, and Angel, Fred, Gunn, even Illyria – all gone.” He took a long pull on his cigarette. She wondered how he could do that and not breathe. Smoke, that is. One puff seemed to travel through his entire body before he released the white stream through his mouth and nostrils simultaneously. “But it's good to see you, Nib…Dawn.” He shook his head.

“How'd you know I was here with Faith?” she asked, the question had been weighing on her. “Were you spying on us?”

“Yes,” he smiled. “It's my job. Got to know everything and everybody that walks, runs or crawls into Vegas.”

“Your job?”

“Yeah, my boss, he insists.”

“Who's your boss?”

“You may remember him, I know Faith knows him, quite well,” he took another long puff of the cigarette. “His name's Wesley, Wesley Wyndam Pryce.”

“Oh yeah,” Dawn replied. “Didn't he used to be a watcher?”

“Used to be…used to be a lot of things,” Spike said as the waiter returned with their drinks.

Dawn watched as Spike swallowed his shot of Jack Daniels, and ordered another before the waiter even had a chance to place her glass on the table.

to be continued...