All characters belong to Joss Whedon, The WB Network, and 20th Century Fox. I am just a fan.

Spike sat in the danger room. As he lit up a fag he slumped into the sofa and inhaled deeply. The pint sized one was saying her goodbyes, and he couldn't stand watching the hugs and the kisses, the "write to me"s and the "I'll miss you"s. He knew very well that none of the bloody scoobies would write to him, or miss him. What worried him was that he had an inkling that he might just miss them.

"Sentimental sod." He thought as he gazed around the room before him. She was almost there with him, he could see her kicking seven shades out of the punch bag, stretching out on the mat in front of him, smiling the smile that haunted his dream. "That's it, time to get moving."

He went to stand, but was startled by a knock on the door.

"Spike?" the voice inquired.

"Come in, Red."

The Wiccan slid into the room and eyed him thoughtfully.

"Dawn's ready to go," she said "but I just wanted to speak to you first."

"Yeah?" He'd thought the witch had liked him once. Well, there had been definite non-hatred there; after all, she hadn't let him stake himself that time in Xander's basement. "What is it? And hurry up love, gotta schedule to keep to."

"I was just wondering, ummm, could you... umm... Just let us know how you're doing, okay?"

Willow was quite taken aback by the huge grin that overcame Spike's features. She'd expected a snarky remark of some sort, accompanied by some mild swearing, perhaps a little of the jeering.

No, she hadn't expected that grin at all, and he knew it. Poof as he was, nothing felt quite so good as getting one over on a scooby. With that he swept out of the room, nodded to the gang, grabbed his blanket and high-tailed it to his car where the nibblet was waiting.

And so they left for L.A., a place that had at least only seen one monumental kicking of his ass.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Dawn's face was set in a scowl like stone. Spike tried to ignore it, just keep driving, but she looked so damn unhappy. How could he be so cruel at such a difficult time in her life?

"Okay, bite-size. I give up."

"Yay!" she giggled and slammed her cassette into the car stereo, immediately beginning to sing along to that bloody manufactured crap that passed as music nowadays. "Jeez, I'm starting to sound like Giles." he thought.

Over an hour later Britney was still sometimes running, still sometimes hiding, and the vampire was becoming disturbed by the fact that he was inadvertently humming along. He sniggered slightly and looked over to the girl beside him expecting a smile. Instead, Dawn looked like hell.

"Nib? What's up?"

"Ummm, Its nothing." It was obviously something.

"C'mon, tell unky Spike." He looked at her with big puppy-dog eyes, sticking out his bottom lip. A small smile flickered across Dawns lips. God she looked like...

"Well, I guess I'm scared. I mean I haven't seen my dad since...Actually I've never really seen my dad." Her laughter was slightly manic. Too edgy.

"Yeah love, but he's still your dad, just like Joyce was your mom and Buffy was your sister." His voice broke slightly at the use of past tense.

"I know, its just..."

"Just what, pet?"

"I'm glad your here Spike." As she spoke she reached out and squeezed his hand, which was resting on the gear stick. She smiled a smile that tore at him every time. Every time he remembered where she'd gotten that smile.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Sodding wanker! Bloody idiot poof! He just didn't understand, couldn't comprehend. He'd done many an evil thing in his years, but had never seen as much hurt as he'd seen in the Summer's women's eyes, and it didn't please him to see more.

Spike looked at the fancy notepaper, crumpled it and threw it at a photo of the bastard. Twenty minutes beforehand Spike and Dawn had arrived to an apartment inhabited only by a note stuck to the refrigerator, informing them that Hank had gone to the sodding theatre with his girlfriend and would be back around midnight.

The vampire simply hadn't known what to say to Dawn as tears threatened. She had pleaded tiredness and headed to her room. He let her be.

So he waited for Hank to come home in order to give him a piece of his mind. If Spike was going to protect Dawn he figured that meant emotionally also, and he may as well bloody start with her poor excuse for a father.

At some point he must have fallen asleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It started the same, as it always did. A tower. A knife. A fall. Failure. Crawling. Pain.

The body.

But this time the body rose. Darkness engulfed them, the others fading from sight. He stirred.

She floated on an ethereal mist, coming ever closer. Her face was not visible, yet he knew without question the identity of this angel.

He reached out to her but his limbs were paralyzed. Why had she come to haunt him, bring him such pain, anguish, guilt? No, it wasn't her fault. He had to tell her, had to explain, apologize. He strained to speak but no words came.

She placed a cool hand on his chest, and a soft kiss on his forehead.

Spike knew peace.

~*~*~*~*~*~

His eyes snapped open as he gasped, "Buffy."

A small hand slid from his chest as Dawn crumpled to the floor.

Drowning in You: Part IV
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