"Shame." He commented once more on that bit of ridiculous conversation, practically clinging to the snarky repertoire between them. It was something he missed that sort of thing with her. But he supposed it was too much to ask from her these days.
That reaction to those comments about Dawn was as real as he'd seen her since this version of her had arrived in Lawernce. She seemed connected, she cared, which was more than he'd seen from her so far. In Spike's eyes, guilt-fueled or not, the reaction mattered, it meant something. "More than I think you realize, love. You gave yourself up for her, she lost you then... and she's lost you so many times since she's been here. Different versions of you coming and going and it's all compounded into a sort of abandonment issue. Even if the Seal's the one at fault. Can't blame her. It's hard to see people disappear without a word. And...I think, all things considered, you making the choice is worse than if the Seal took you." Maybe he was saying too much, pressing too much on her, but he couldn't quite find a way to stop the words from coming. He hadn't started out being the best he could to Dawn, but he'd slowly been correcting that recently and seeing how much she shielded herself now... It wasn't good, really.
"Could make people that care about you feel worse," he pointed out, flicking the ash from his cigarette on the ground. He watched her step back, starting moving away in the direction she'd gone. And if she honestly thought he would just let this drop and let her walk away, she really knew him less than he thought. "Only thing that..." he repeated, watching her curiously. "Come on. Talk to me. Or talk to someone, Buffy. Do you realize how worried people are about you?"