Disclaimer: The usual.

Author's Note: OK, now that I'm no longer giving away any plot twists (hopefully), I'll officially announce that this story also has a Dawn/OC pairing. (Go on, guess who it is. It's really hard. ~_^) And, to the few very observant people who pointed it out, yes, Rick Salvatore is the same Salvatore that Dawn's married to in the 'Seventh Slayer' universe. However, this story is not part of the 'Seventh Slayer' universe in any other way. I just felt all guilty because I'd developed this huge backstory for Rick for 'The Seventh Slayer' and then I never got to use him. So I decided to plug him in here since I needed a romantic interest for Dawn.

Previously: Buffy and Siggy talked; Spike's emotionally fragile now. Buffy found out that Spike was actually her phantom piano player. (Honestly, it was a lot more than it sounds like... ^_^)

"I feel like a fish in a barrel."

This optimistic remark came from Rick right after Dawn had finally had enough of Spike's hovering and looming and had not-so-subtly ordered him to go take a long walk off a short pier.

"We're going to get more and more isolated up here if the weather keeps up like this," Dawn agreed, staring at the chess board between them. Her bishop had checkmated his king over an hour ago, but they had never bothered to clear off the board. A conversation had easily sprung up, and there was no longer any need for the side distraction.

Rick nodded glumly, sunglasses firmly in place once more. "You do not suppose our Haunting can take control of the weather?" he suggested.

"Even if it could, it couldn't possibly make it snow more," Dawn teased lightly.

A small smile quirked at the edges of Rick's lips. It was the only outward indication of his humor. Dawn was actually surprised to find that she had found him easier to read with the glasses off. Even though his eyes had been shocking in their uniformity and color, she'd learned remarkably quickly to decipher subtle emotional nuances in their movements.

"And we are back to the fish in a barrel," Rick concluded.

Dawn snorted. "Worse comes to worst, I'm sure Siggy could drive through a glacier as if it were a sunny June afternoon. According to her, this is just a few flurries."

Rick grinned. "I cannot believe she went into town at this late hour. The woman is clearly suicidal."

"No, suicidal would've been taking Spike's car out in this weather," she laughed.

Rick chuckled as well. "He is very overprotective of his car," he commented.

Dawn rolled her eyes. "He's overprotective of everything...in case you hadn't noticed."

Rick conceded the point with a nod. "He cares for you as family, as you do for him. I envy that about you."

Dawn's expression turned wistful. "Father a demon, mother killed by demon haters, huh?" she pressed softly.

"Oh, they hated father as well," Rick said with a distant sigh. His expression seemed to close off to her at the memory.

"I'm sorry," Dawn bit her lip. "I didn't mean to bring up..."

He shook it off as nothing. "It happened a long time ago," he insisted.

Dawn nodded and looked down at her hands. "Sometimes, if you keep the past buried too long, it can overwhelm you," she commented off-handedly.

"You speak from firsthand experience?" Rick inquired curiously. His focus shifted so that he could once again see the green magical ebb that danced across her flesh, animating her and composing her.

Dawn looked around and spotted her sister passing by in the hallway. A brief image flashed before her eyes of Buffy's dead body lying at the bottom of Glory's tower, but she shook it off and managed a smile and a wave. "Tell you what," Dawn said, turning back to Rick. "I'll spill my story, if you'll tell me yours."

A curious eyebrow quirked above the rim of his sunglasses. It took a second's thought, but only a second's. "It is a deal," he agreed with a shy smile.

"You just went to sleep and left me to freeze to death in that hellhole of a temple?!" Lena screamed in outrage at that very moment.

"Well, I didn't know you were down there, now did I?" Xel shot back angrily.

Dawn rolled her eyes.

Rick did as well, but the effect was lost beneath the dark shades. "It is a deal," he repeated, "but can we continue this discussion somewhere else?"

"You read my mind," Dawn agreed with a grin...

"You know," Buffy began, a little giggle escaping her lips as all her misconceptions about the identity of her phantom player finally came to light, "I thought you were a ghost."

"Slayer who can't even tell the difference between a ghost an' a vampire," Spike snorted good-naturedly.

"It's not my fault that you're all pale with the hair and the black clothes that make you look all decapitated from behind," she retorted with a playful flick of her hair over one shoulder.

A small smirk curled at the edges of his lips. "Oh, so I was a headless spook, was I? Mighty big words you're usin' there, pet."

"Hey!" she protested on principle, a grin of her own lighting up her face. "I can use all sorts of big words! What do you think I am, monosyllabic?"

A chuckle at her joke. "Ooh, California girl's showin' off for the crowd," he teased.

"My academic honor was being disputed," she retorted, arms crossed over her chest in a defensive manner...which also happened to show off her chest in the low v-neck of her sweater quite nicely. "And maybe you should check out a dictionary Mr. Victorian Education. I said you were decapitated, not headless. In fact, what with your frightening paleness and fetish for black leather, you looked quite headful."

"Now, that 'm confident isn't a word," he countered. Almost of their own devices, his eyes drifted down to the tanned cleavage that disappeared beneath the pale blue silk of her sweater. He had to bite back a moan at the memory of that soft, gold skin revealed fully to him that morning.

She rolled her eyes in the patented Buffy manner and sat back against the armchair beside the piano bench. She watched as his fingers absentmindedly flitted over the keys, just tapping the polished ivory lightly so that the cadence was completed only in his own inner ears.

"So, er, yeah..." he began, a bit embarrassed, ducking his head and scratching the back of his neck. "I was just...uh..."

"I've been listening to you practically every night since I got here," Buffy pointed out with a small smile. "There's no way you can cover."

He sighed. "Oh bugger..."

"There's no reason to be embarrassed," she reassured him softly. "You play beautifully..." A wistful little flutter moved deep in her chest, still aching for the haunting touch of his musical caress.

"Big Bads don't play beautifully," he huffed slightly, arms crossed over his own chest now.

"That is so not true," she countered. "What about the Phantom of the Opera?"

"Yeah, well 'm more 'sexy rebel' Big Bad and less 'tragic antihero'," he insisted.

"Really?" she inquired with a grin. "'Cause I always thought you were kinda both."

"You think 'm sexy?" He blurted out the question hopefully before he even had a chance to think and gave himself a few good mental slaps for the unintentional slip.

Buffy bit her lip and looked intently down at her shoes. "C'mon, you know you're totally hot," she admitted with a blush.

The evil Big Bad smirk crept slowly across his features. "You know you want me, Slayer," he teased in a seductive purr.

Buffy shivered at the sound of his voice, the half-whispered innuendo feeling like the cool caress of his fingers up and down her spine. "Yeah," she said with a shrug. "It's not like it's a secret or anything."

His eyes widened, and for one moment the impossible occurred – Spike was completely and utterly flummoxed. "I...er...uh..." he gulped in disbelief at her admission, Adam's Apple bobbing enticingly as he did so. "Well, that is...see..."

She couldn't help but giggle. He looked so adorable like that, all his bluster cast aside as the man within tried desperately to comprehend what she'd just actually admitted. "I decided to cut out the emotional lies a ways back," she provided as he slowly reasserted control over himself. "It makes life a whole lot easier if you just admit how you feel, y'know?"

He nodded slowly. "Never thought 'd hear you say those words," he admitted, composed again now but sounding almost...shy?

"That's because you had to deal with me in my 'royally fucked up' phase," Buffy agreed with a roll of her eyes. "Sorry about that."

"Um...yeah," he said hesitantly, still only half believing this conversation was occurring. "'S all right. Just, y'know, caught me by surprise is all."

"More like 'floundering and gasping for air'," she teased lightly.

He chuckled. "Don't need air," he pointed out.

Her expression softened as she looked at him.

"What?" he demanded, squirming slightly at her intent focus.

"It's just..." she began, in awe at her sudden revelation, "you get these little crinkles around the edges of your eyes when you smile, and you've got these dimples, and..." She trailed off, blushing slightly. "I guess I've just never watched you smile before," she finally whispered.

Macho manliness apparently in serious jeopardy, Spike moved to get up. "Got a nice smile yourself, luv," he felt obliged to reply.

Buffy rose with him, and her hand came to rest on one powerful arm, her fingers curling gently around his biceps. "Stay," she requested softly.

He snorted. "Yeah, so you want me," he retorted, pulling away. "Big deal. Half the birds I meet do. Must be my fit bod; they just can't resist."

"That's not—" Buffy began in protest. Uh-oh, looks like I struck a nerve... Inwardly, she winced.

"Well, you're in luck, then," he persisted, cutting her off. "'Cause 'm easy. Go on and ask anyone." He caught her own arm at that and pulled her up roughly against his body, so that only inches separated their lips.

"Spike—" she pleaded hoarsely.

"Even the Bit'll tell ya," he insisted, leaning his head in.

"William..."

He froze at the sound of his real name, and it was all the reprieve Buffy needed to slip one hand between them, resting the tip of her index finger against his luscious lower lip and holding him at a distance.

"I don't want you to be easy," she insisted raggedly, tears brimming in her eyes at all the pain he must've gone through to now think that this was all there was – just lust without tenderness, without love... "I want you to be real. I want you to be Spike. I want you to be mine..." The last confession was said in a breathless whisper, and she looked directly into his stormy blue eyes all the while so that he could see the truth within her.

His eyelids fluttered shut for a second, and his demeanor softened. "Sorry about that, pet," he whispered, embarrassed at his own behavior now. "I just—"

"It's okay," she assured him softly. "I get it. Really I do." Her finger slowly ventured from his lips to trace the razor's edge of one cheekbone. A little purr escaped his throat at the affectionate touch, and she smiled now that she had the real Spike back. "Stay with me?" she requested again, careful this time.

"Yeah, right," he agreed with a wistful little sigh. "Whattaya wanna...?" He let the question trail off.

"Will you play for me?" she inquired hopefully, gesturing to the piano.

"Uh, yeah. Sure thing, pet," he agreed, sounding slightly surprised. "You really like...?"

"I love it," she assured him, reluctantly pulling away so that he could return to the piano bench. She took the seat beside him without hesitation and watched as his fingers once more found their places on the ivory keys.

"I composed it myself," he admitted somewhat sheepishly.

"I can tell," she agreed with a soft smile before letting herself drift off into the sensual notes once more...

"You can destroy the universe?" Rick sat back on the sofa in Dawn and Spike's common room and blinked.

"And I nearly did," Dawn shivered slightly.

Noticing her chill, he reached over onto the armchair and tossed her the throw blanket there. She gave him a grateful smile in response and wrapped it around herself.

"It's always been easiest just to forget about it," she confessed. "I'm entirely human otherwise, and..." She trailed off. "Except that you can see it, can't you?" she pointed out somewhat bitterly.

"Only when I look a certain way," Rick assured her.

"Come again?"

"It is like...a different focus of a camera," he tried to explain. "I look in a certain way, and I can see magical energies and the like."

"Are you doing it right now?" Dawn asked curiously.

"I can if you want me to," he provided, shifting his vision so that the green aura that surrounded her like a halo burned bright before him.

Dawn scowled. "I couldn't see what you did. Take off the glasses."

"There's nothing to see," he insisted hastily, the flushing of his cheeks visible even over his chocolate brown complexion.

"There're your eyes for one," Dawn pointed. "Now that I know..." She reached up hesitantly for the frame of his lenses. "There's no need to hide anymore."

"They are a demon's eyes," he let out one last token protest as she removed his sunglasses.

"Yeah, well, I'm used to Spike vamping out all the time, so I'm kinda, sorta used to it..." She trailed off with smile at the sight of his red eyes once more. "I think they're fascinating," she admitted softly.

"That would make you the only one to think so," Rick commented a bit gruffly. He didn't pull away from the hand at his cheek, however.

"What about your father?" Dawn inquired softly.

A deep sigh escaped Rick's lips. "My father...was not a typical Kayeri," he finally conceded.

" 'Was not'? He's dead?"

"He is," Rick agreed. "They could not allow the abomination that was a demon who loved a human to live."

"They?"

"The Cuiva village my mother was born into," Rick clarified. "When they found out that she was..." A shake of his head. "They drove her out, would have killed her had my father not come to her defense."

"At least your parents loved each other," Dawn commented, remembering the shouting matches between Hank and Joyce with just a tinge of the old pain from her childhood.

"As I said," Rick agreed with a small smile, "my father was not a typical Kayeri. He was a virtual outcast because of his association with my mother."

"Ah, the fun of trying to live between human and demon societies," Dawn added with a sympathetic smile.

Rick smiled up at her at that. A real, full-out, open smile. The first from him she'd ever seen.

And Dawn was certain that her heart had just melted...

"Can you teach me?" Buffy's question interrupted the comfortable silence that had settled between them as they both drifted off into the music.

Spike shot her a skeptical look. "You know how to play?"

A pointed roll of her eyes. "Four years of the hell my mom liked to call piano lessons," she countered.

"A smart woman, your mum," Spike retorted with a little grin.

"Yeah..." A nostalgic sigh. "Anyway, I completely suck, but I still wanna learn. Maybe I could manage just the melody."

"No harm in tryin' now, is there, luv?" he agreed with a quirk of his lips. "Unless those lessons stopped 'cause you finally slayed the teacher, that is..."

"This was pre-Slayer, believe me," Buffy assured him. "Otherwise, there would've been no way my mom could've forced me into them."

"Bet you're glad you had 'em now," he countered.

An amused smile curved the edges of her lips. "Knew you were gonna say that," she teased.

"Well, it was too obvious to pass up," he insisted defensively.

"All right, I'll give you that one," she conceded, "but only because I want you to teach me."

"Fair enough," he agreed with a shrug, pulling a notepad from his duster pocket. "You read music?"

"Really slowly," she admitted.

"We'll start off on the keyboard first, then," he decided. "Start on the D...you can find D, right?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "I'm not that bad," she insisted, the index finger of her right hand pressing the D in front of her firmly.

He breathed an inward sigh of relief. Maybe she actually did know what she was about, after all. "Right, then. Follow my lead." He took up parallel position an octave below and slowly ran through the melody.

Buffy giggled and stumbled over the keys and shot him apologetic looks each time he had to go back and get her back on the right notes. She really never had been very good, but then she'd never found the piano at all fun before, either.

Spike chuckled as she missed another raised seventh, and he slowed his pace down so that she could catch on again. She managed to keep up with him for six measures before her fingers wandered off on their own again, and she scowled down at the keyboard as if it were intentionally trying to vex her.

The expression was so completely adorable – Slayer wrath and pouty little girl all rolled together in one – that Spike couldn't keep himself from laughing aloud.

Buffy shot him a mock-offended look. "Some teacher you are," she grumbled, "making fun of your students..." Inwardly, her heart was racing, though. He looked so happy, carefree, beautiful. And she was the cause of his good humor. She had always wondered just how much they could laugh together if she'd allowed the hostility between them to fully abate...

"Think we'd better write it down for you, after all," Spike decided, still chuckling under his breath. He flipped open the notebook and tore out a blank page, drawing a series of surprisingly neat lines before he began penning in the notes over them.

Fortunately, he was left-handed, so Buffy could lean in close on his right side and watch him work. "You wrote all of this?" She shook her head.

"What? Don't think 'm clever enough to come up with a tune?" he retorted.

"No, it's not that," she shook her head. "It's just... I can't believe that anyone can write music like that."

"Where d'you think it all comes from, then?" he inquired.

She shrugged. "Never thought about it, actually."

He shook his head. "Ah, the wonders of modern education..." he mourned.

"You learned this in school?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, yeah. Where else?"

"They teach this in school?" She blinked again.

"Yeah...well, they did back when I went," he conceded. "That was a long time ago. Everyone had to know this sorta thing to be educated."

A distant expression crossed Buffy's face. "You're really old, y'know," she finally commented.

"'m only a hundred thirty!" he protested.

Buffy laughed. "That's old," she assured him. "But not, like, creepy geezer old. Just, 'wow, there's so much I don't know about you' old."

He shrugged and turned back to coloring in the dotted notes of music before him. "No one does," he said simply.

She bit her lower lip and placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at her in surprise, bringing their faces into oh-so-tempting proximity once more. Buffy let her eyelids flutter shut and savored the feel of his cold breath against her cheek. This closeness... God, how she had ached for it! All those years of being alone, and then these last few tortuous weeks when he had been so close but still untouchable...

"I want to know, though," she whispered. "I want to know it all..." Hesitantly, she leaned in and oh-so-carefully brushed a gentle kiss right at the corner of his lips...

With a breath of warm relief, Siggy shut the lobby door to the lodge behind her and shook the crystallized snow from the hood of her parka. Removing the coat entirely when she realized her task was hopeless, she brushed off all the excess snow in the entrance hall. Task accomplished, she tucked her jacket under one arm and the newspaper she'd bought at the local 7/11 under the other and returned to the suite she was now mooching off of Spike and Dawn.

Whistling a jaunty tune under her breath and trying to compete with where Spike seemed to be slaughtering the keyboard in sitting room, she fumbled in her pocket for her keys. Swearing in a soft foreign tongue when she realized that they were in one of the parka pockets that were now concealed from her, she stopped in the middle of the hallway and dropped everything on the floor so that she could sort it all out.

"Need some help with that, little lady?"

The husky voice cut through the blackness of the corridor like a knife, and Siggy leapt a foot in surprise at the sound. She spun around startled, only to breathe a sigh of relief when she saw the identity of the speaker.

"Mr. Tucker," she gasped, one hand over her bosom in a gesture that she knew looked cliched but nevertheless was instinctive, "you startled me."

"Didn't mean to," he assured her, taking a step in closer. "Wanna hand?"

"No, thank you." She turned back to her coat and found the keys within. She held them up for him to see and picked up her parka and newspaper once more. "It is under control now."

"Shouldn't be surprised that you don't want my help, I suppose," Tucker commented off-handedly, stepping closer.

Siggy frowned at the unexpected menace in his motions and turned back down the hallway in the direction of the safety of Spike and Dawn's suite. "You are not?" she asked, confused.

"A pretty thing like you," he went on as if he hadn't even heard her comment. "All you bitches ever do is ignore me. Ol' Tucker's not good enough for you, huh?"

"Wh-What are you talking about?" Siggy asked, alarmed now. He was following her slowly down the hallway, a predatory menace in his step, and the words coming out of his mouth spoke of an irrationality that she hadn't sensed in him when they'd met briefly earlier. "I never said any such thing."

"But you thought it, though," he accused. "I know that you thought it."

Siggy scrambled with the keys in her hand, fumbling for the door. "I did not—" she dared to look up.

And, at that moment, he stepped into the narrow beam of moonlight that encompassed her, and she saw for the first time the malevolent red glow deep in his eyes. He roughly grabbed at her wrist, and she screamed...

She wasn't quite sure how it had happened, how they had finally bridged the gap between them and how their lips had finally met. But, oh, right now she didn't care. With a gasp, she pulled him in closer, feeling the strong, lean musculature of his body pressed hard against her yielding flesh.

A heady moan escaped her lips as he pulled her into his lap, letting her feel his rock-hard desire for her. God, she had dreamed of this and now to finally have him... She ground back against him, hands groping at black leather and pushing it back down off of his body. She needed more, always more. She needed to feel his skin against hers, his weight on top of her, his...

"God!" she cried aloud as his blunt teeth nibbled hungrily at the salty sweat of her throat.

"Taste so good..." he mumbled inarticulately into her hair, overcome with the ecstasy of finally having her in his arms.

"Want you now," she agreed, pulling his lips down to hers in response.

He rose to his feet at that, her legs still wrapped tight around his waist. Cloth parted from heated flesh, fluttering down to the floor almost of its own devices. Half naked now, they crashed against the wall, grinding their desires together erotically.

"Bedroom?" he suggested hoarsely.

"Now." Her own voice was low and husky with desire.

Together they staggered, fought, and disrobed their way to her room, fumbling for doorknobs, stopping every foot to share another passionate kiss.

A sigh of relief escaped both their lips as they tumbled back onto the mattress. Soft, tentative caresses now accompanied their kisses as he moved slowly on top of her, accepting the glimpse of heaven she was offering him...

"Rick!" Dawn cried as he entered her, drowning out Siggy's scream for help in the hallway...

Buffy pulled away slowly, licking her lips and savoring her brief taste of his skin. She noticed with a small smile that Spike's eyelashes were still fluttered shut from when she'd kissed him. One of her thumbs traced the strong line of his jaw as she moved to back away from him...

And he let out a little gasp of protest, leaning back into her touch and pressing his own lips oh-so-softly down on top of hers.

Buffy's eyes widened for a second before her body melded into his, accepting the power of his embrace and the sweet passion of his kiss.

Their lips lingered for a while, keeping their kisses shallow and short. Heady breaths escaped both their lips as the passion was stoked between them, burning ever brighter as Spike opened himself up to her, each slanting of their lips reminding him more and more of why he'd once laid his heart bare for her...

With a gasp, he finally pulled back, not able to make that final step, not so soon.

Buffy let out a little whimper of protest but didn't fight to resume their passion.

"I..." he began hesitantly, almost apologetically.

"It's all right," she soothed him softly. "I can wait."

"I...We should..."

"Probably call it a night," Buffy agreed reluctantly, finishing his sentence for him.

"Yeah." His cheeks pinkened slightly as they sat back to look at each other. "But 'll, y'know, write out the rest of the score for you and..." He gestured to the half-written music on the piano.

"Oh yeah, thanks," she blushed as well. "We can...tomorrow maybe...?"

"Um, sure, I just..."

"Yeah..." Why isn't there ever an emergency to break up awkward pauses like this? Buffy sighed inwardly.

And a scream shattered the midnight silence of the lodge.

Yes, that'll do nicely, Buffy decided as she and Spike bolted to Siggy's aid...

Heh-heh, I'm so incurably evil it's not even funny. Well, at least I finally gave you some smoochies, but if you want the cliffhanger resolved...well, you know what you've gotta do... ~_^