"Have you seen Willow lately though? Something's seriously weird going on there, don't you think?"
They were strolling the streets, it was dusk and he had an arm casually slung around her shoulders. Dawn felt comfortable and small, protected by his leather exterior and attitudes toward everyone but herself. He shifted his arm as they continued around a corner, taking a long route back to the Summers' pad.
"I think you have me confused with someone else, little bit," he intoned and she could hear the smirk that she knew was painted on his lips which coloured his voice true. She sighed.
"You're here, aren't you? With me?"
"Course I am, I may be dead but I ain't invisible."
Her gaze lowered to the pavement, and she scuffed her sneakers over the gum speckled grey. Why did she expect anything more? She was sixteen and he was...she didn't even know. Oh how naive she knew she was being, with her desires to wash his feelings into a blur and stretch them into something new.
He wore his dead heart on his sleeves and the whole world knew where his affections were laid. But she was sleeveless, yellow, and forced her heart to hide and heal by itself, wrapped up in a thick skin of protection.
Why wasn't it her? Why did she have to by jealous? Why wasn't Buffy-
"All right, nibblet?"
"Yeah, fine," she replied, ever so slightly moving closer into his shoulder, choosing to enjoy the comfort as long as she had it.