Title: Untitled

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Eventual SpikeDawn

Early Season Six. Post-Gift.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Alot of this story was inspired by Kurt Couper's fanfiction (Damned, mainly) and SexyMermaid's story, Forbidden.

Thank you to everyone who helped me with this story (elbowface and Al) and to Kurt Couper for agreeing to beta.


Prologue: Sleepless Nights
She could hear the rain steadily hitting the window as she lay in bed, comforted only by the fact that He was there.

It had become routine for the both now. Every night, he would crawl through her bedroom window and just sit on the bed, leaning against the headboard and watching over her as she drifted off to sleep. When she awoke, he would be gone and she would be left wondering if he'd ever been there in the first place.

They never talked about it – it was never mentioned at all. Just like everything else they never mentioned.

'Buffy…' The name crossed her mind and she forced it away, squeezing her eyes shut and muffling a sob as a tear cascaded down her cheek. She heard the bed creak as he gently pressed his cold dead lips against hers.

She knew that no matter what she felt, the kiss was nothing more then a gesture to remind her he cared. It meant the same thing it meant last night and the twenty-eight nights before last night.

Not that she was counting; it was part of their routine.

"Goodnight, l'il bit." His rough English voice whispered into her ear and she felt more tears begin to form.

It was her fault. It was her fault her sister was dead. It was her fault He was still here, instead of having moved on.

She knew better then to think he would actually want to stay and care for her if he didn't have to. She was just Bu – Her little sister. The love of his life's annoying little sister. After Her death, the only reason he'd stayed was because he'd promised Her.

She heard a click, felt the familiar smell of nicotine and tobacco fill her nose and knew he'd lit up. She knew he was smoking now more for her benefit than his own.

In the morning, when she awoke and he was gone, the lingering smell of nicotine, tobacco and leather would calm her because she knew it as his scent.

It was weird, how the smell of cigarettes or alcohol instantly calmed her. She supposed it was because he was the only person she'd ever met who smoked or drank incessantly enough for her to confuse their presence with his.

"Love, I get so lost sometimes,

Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart

When I want to run away

I drive off in my car

But whichever way I go

I come back to the place you are…"

He's started reciting poetry softly now. It's because he knows I'm still awake. Knows that I need help falling asleep tonight.

"All my instincts they return

And the grand façade, so soon will burn…"

I wonder if he wrote this himself. He does, you know. Write. Sometimes, it's poetry. Sometimes, it's a song.

It's always unbearably beautiful. It makes me feel safe. It makes me wonder if he writes about me.

I know he writes about Her. I know it because sometimes he won't let me hear what he's just written.

And the only thing the two of us never talk of is Her. And the routine.

"I get so tired of working so hard for our survival

I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive…"

I decide this one is about me. It's probably not true. It's probably about Her, but I don't care. I want it to be about me.

I know it's wrong to think such things – and I know he'd hate me if he knew – but sometimes I hate her.

I hate her because even though she's dead, she's still refuses to let go of her hold on his heart.

I hate her because even though she's dead, he still loves her more.

I hear a click as a second cigarette is lighted. He's stopped speaking.

He's done now. It's over. He's not going to entertain me any longer. He wants me to sleep. So he can leave.

So I concede and listen to the rain beating against the window pains, letting the steady rhythm and the smell of nicotine, leather and all that is him comfort me.

As I struggle to fall asleep, images of her falling from the tower and plummeting to her death reign over my mind. I force myself to stifle the screams that threaten to erupt.

Screaming would break the façade. The routine. And that's not allowed.

I feel a hand began to stroke the middle of my back and know that he knows about my nightmares. Just like I know about his.

I wonder which one I'll have tonight. The one in which she dies? Or the one in which he dies?

The second one's worse. Because then I'd be truly alone.

I wonder if that's selfish. To think just about me.

I hear him sigh and feel the bed creak as he moves around.

"Sunlight's in forty-five." His quiet voice declares and I swallow, burying my face further into the pillow.

He always leaves ten minutes before sunrise. Like clockwork.

I don't want to be awake when he leaves.

I don't want to watch him leave. Don't want to watch my worst nightmare come to life.

'One sheep, two sheep, three…' I began to silently count. I've got thirty-five minutes to make sure I'm unconscious when he leaves.

'Seven sheep, eight sheep, nine…" I wonder if he knows how much this hurts.

How much… it hurts…to know… the truth…

The persistent aroma of his cigarettes belongs to me.

But the rest of him belongs to Her.


Poem excerpts taken from "In Your Eyes", a song by Peter Gabriel. Also, most of my fanfiction is on hold and will stay that way for awhile. I'm in between alot of RL crap – so this story may not be updated for great lengths of time. I'd still like to see if anyone wants it to be updated though, so leave me a review and I'll decide when to update based on that.