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

Spike twirled around with the woman in his arms. Her glorious hair fanned out, catching the sunlight as he spun back in the opposite direction. They were bathed in the golden rays, out in the wide-open fields of Spike’s childhood home. The scent of an English meadow in the early summer enveloped them and the young woman laughed as a butterfly flitted right past her nose. She leaned in and gave Spike the lightest of kisses.

“I love you, Buffy Summers!” He said.

“And I love…this beautiful, sunny day,” She teased as she twisted out of his arms and danced away.

“Vixen!” Spike said grinning as he chased after her, “Come back here!”

But Buffy was already disappearing into the brightness of the sun, fading out of existence even as he moved closer. Her voice became an echo and her laughter a whisper of remembered delight. Squinting, Spike could barely make out the outline of her body against the radiance. He was afraid of the sunlight but he didn’t want to lose sight of his beloved. He pressed on toward the point he’d last seen her clearly. He thought that she was beckoning at him; holding out her hand. The sunlight began to burn his skin but he kept moving forward until the smell of searing flesh filled his world.

“Buffy!” He screamed, as he burned away, “Buffy, I can’t reach you! It’s too bright! The Sun! Buffy? The…”

~*~*~*~

“…SUN!” Spike yelled waking with a start and rolling sideways. He belly flopped onto the floor and scrambled under the bed to avoid the sudden rush of light that had filled the bedroom.

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?” Hank Summers’ yelled from his place by the newly opened blinds, “And what are you doing in my house?”

“Close the sodden blinds, you bloody twonk!” Spike yelled back.

“Daddy! NO!” Dawn said rushing into the room and pushing past her father to cover the windows again, “He can’t stand the sunlight!”

“And why should I care what he can stand?” Hank asked, “I don’t even know what he’s doing here, never mind the fact that it’s half-past 4:00 in the afternoon and he’s still in bed.”

“I’m a night person,” Spike said coming out from under cover as the room returned to darkness, “Nothin’ wrong with it. Got a medical condition. And what I’m doing here is looking after your sole surviving daughter. Seems you been too busy to do it yourself.”

Hank Summers had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. He gave Dawn’s arm an awkward little squeeze of reassurance.

“I’m sorry, Dawnie,” He said, “I’ve been a little distracted. But you have to understand, this all happened so suddenly. I just haven’t had time to get my act together, yet.”

“Yeah,” Spike snarled totally unimpressed by Hank’s show of support, “I can see how your wife and eldest dying would be a real scheduling nightmare for you.”

“Joyce and I were divorced a long time ago,” Hank began defensively, “She moved on with her life and so did I and I don’t know why I owe YOU any sort of explanation…I still don’t know who the hell you are?”

“I’m a friend of the family,” Spike said drawing himself up as if expecting a challenge, “I drove, Niblet, down here. And seeing no sign of you, decided to stick around. Didn’t want her to be all alone in a strange town.”

“And you were one of Joyce’s friends?” Hank said as if he normally wouldn’t put anything past his ex-wife but thought that even she might have drawn the line in Spike’s case.

“No, he’s Buffy’s…uhm…” Dawn started to say and then stopped as she realized that she had no real way to explain the vampire’s presence to her father.

“That is I WAS Buffy’s…” Spike inserted trying to rescue the girl but also drawing a blank since “Former Mortal Enemy” didn’t seem like the right thing to say and “Devoted Admirer” probably wouldn’t win any points either.

“Fiancé,” Dawn squeaked in desperate inspiration.

Hank and Spike gave Dawn the identical slack jawed look.

“Spike was Buffy’s Fiancé,” the girl asserted firmly wiggling her eyebrows at the vampire in warning when her father turned around to look at him again.

“That’s right!” Spike said snapping his mouth closed and nodding, “I am…that is…I was…Buffy’s Fiancé!”

“You’re the soldier?!?” Hank asked in a shocked tone as he raked Spike up and down with a frankly offensive look.

“Hell, NO!” Spike growled too appalled by the idea to even consider the wisdom of taking Riley Finn’s place in the grand scheme.

“Riley and Buffy broke up ages ago, DADDY!” Dawn said. She used the patented teenage voice that indicated a parent was completely out of touch with reality. “Spike and Buffy have been together FOREVER!”

“And his name is SPIKE?” Hank asked, “Your name is SPIKE?”

“William, actually,” Spike mumbled defensively. “Spike Williams,” Dawn said continuing with impressive inventiveness, “Spike’s not his real name. It just kind of what everybody calls him…cause his real name is so lame…and…uhm…because he…used to play beach volleyball.”

Spike made an odd choking sound and Hank narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“And he sleeps all day…because?” Hank prompted. He was remembering that Joyce had once mentioned a boyfriend with a role-playing hang-up. Some sort of vampire culture thing as he recalled. He knew there were clubs for those kinds of people in downtown L.A. but it was hard for him to imagine his sweet little BinkyBuff associating with such an unsavory crowd. It wasn’t nearly so hard for him to imagine Spike doing so.

“He works nights,” Dawn supplied.

“What sort of work?”

“Musician!” Spike said quickly before Niblet’s overactive imagination cast him in the role of Emergency Room Obstetrician or something equally unlikely.

“Really?” Hank said his chilly attitude melting a bit, “I use to play the piano with a little jazz combo in college. What do you play?”

“Guitar,” Spike said then remembering he didn’t have the instrument he added, “Mostly, I sing.”

“Hard to break in here in L.A.” Hank said genially, “Competition is fierce. But if you’ve got talent, I know a guy at the firm with connections…”

Spike gave an internal sigh and let the man buddy up to him. Better that than out into the daylight. The vampire had met more than his share of men like Hank Summers. They were vacant, self-involved men who were all over the gaff when it came to their family life. These days they were mostly divorced. They lived alone, prowling the singles bars for their next ex, but in the past they could always be relied on to supply an unattended wife or daughter for the slaughter. All an enterprising vampire had to do was show a mild interest in their vacuous pursuits to be guaranteed an instant invitation to wine and dinner at home. Spike had no intention of leaving Buffy’s baby sister in the care of such a man.

~*~*~*~

After what seemed like eternity but was actually more like 45 minutes, Hank Summers left for yet another date. Mindful of his new responsibilities, he called for pizza and put the bill on his credit card before he headed out. Dawn curled up on the sofa eating while Spike phoned the local theatres checking on movie tickets for later.

“What’s that number again?” Spike asked and Dawn held out her hand.

She had scrawled her father’s Visa card information on her palm with blue ink. Spike punched in the numbers and put the phone to his ear for further instruction.

“I can’t believe YOU know how to order movie tickets this way,” Dawn commented.

“Got to embrace the technology,” the vampire grinned, “I don’t recognize any of these movies, though. What the hell is A.I. anyway?”

“It stands for Artificial Intelligence,” Dawn said, “It’s like about robots and stuff.”

“Oh, That might be interesting!” Spike said ignoring Dawn’s pained look as he jotted down show times and locations.

“I heard that it’s slow and boring,” Dawn said batting at his hand, “Do they still have Moulin Rouge?”

“Hang on a sec,” Spike said listening again before nodding at her, “That doesn’t have a lot of blood in it does it?”

“No, But…Why?” Dawn asked genuinely puzzled, “I wouldn’t think a vampire would care about that sort of thing. I can’t see how it could shock YOU, even if there were dismembered bodies all over the screen.”

“Shocks not the problem, Snack size,” Spike replied, “I just haven’t eaten in a couple of days. Don’t want to stir up my appetite is all.”

“Oh, Sorry,” Dawn said, “Do you want to pick up some blood on the way? I thought maybe the pizza would tide you over but…”

“I’m okay,” Spike reassured her, “Just being extra careful. With you sleepwalking and such, don’t want to be all worked up myself.”

“Well, I don’t remember any blood in Moulin Rouge,” Dawn said taking a big bite of her pizza, “So, go ahead and order the tickets.”

Spike keyed in the appropriate numbers, wrote down his confirmation code and hung up the phone. He had just leaned forward to pick up a slice of pizza when Dawn spoke again in an odd husky tone.

“Uck! Pepperoni!” She said.

“I thought you loved pepperoni,” Spike commented not looking up as he concentrated on folding over his slice to retain more of the toppings.

“No,” Buffy’s voice said patiently, “That’s DAWN! Dawn likes pepperoni! Buffy likes bell pepper! It easy to remember because Buffy and Bell Pepper both start with the ‘B’.”

The pizza slice fell from his nerveless fingers as Spike snapped his head around to look at the woman. She was wearing Dawn’s blue sweater and leggings. The sweater was longer on her, almost a dress. She was curled up with her feet tucked under her and she was flicking pepperoni pieces at the lid of the pizza box. As Spike stared at her, afraid to move or even blink, Buffy licked the excess sauce from her fingers.

“My indelicate angel,” Spike thought.

“Do we have any more napkins?” She asked as if reading his mind.

“Buffy?” He said choking on her name.

“Spike?” She mocked in a matching tone and then repeated pointedly, “NAPKINS?”

The vampire launched himself at her, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her into the couch cushions. The sudden violence caused her to shriek and with a stomach churning twist of face and form she changed back into Dawn. Spike gave an incoherent, desperate cry and released her. Turning away, he punched his fist into the wall, sending plaster flying. Dawn skittered away from him to the far end of the sofa.

“W-wh-what is it?” Dawn said her voice shaking with fear at the unexpected attack, “SPIKE! What happened? What are you doing?”

“She was here!” Spike said almost in tears, “She was right here! Right where you were sitting!”

He pointed emphatically at the sofa cushions and Dawn knew better than to ask whom he meant. Only Buffy could have affected him this way. Buffy had come through somehow where she, Dawn, had been sitting. The young girl could almost remember it and it wasn’t like a dream or a vision. She had actually become Buffy for a few minutes.

“It’s like Ben and Glory, isn’t it?” She asked seriously, “We’re both in here? Aren’t we?”

Spike looked at his young friend for a long moment before nodding.

“I think so, Sweet Bit,” He said, “I don’t know why or how but we need to do something about it. We need to do something about it, right now!”

~*~*~*~

Willow was having her desert island dream. The one where she and four European fashion models were the only survivors of a plane crash. The five survivors were remarkably unscathed but they had just discovered that all of their clothing had unfortunately been lost when the dream shifted alarmingly. Suddenly, she was alone in an impenetrable jungle. Insects were droning in her ears and native drums were pounding all around her. She could hear someone calling her but she couldn’t seem to force her way through the dense underbrush.

“WILLOW!” Spike bellowed thudding his fist repeatedly against the door, “Damn it, WAKE UP!”

Dawn leaned on the buzzer hard again and Willow sat up groggily. She looked around in confusion. The clock said 9:57, the darkness said evening. Tara was out cold from a sleeping draught she had taken that afternoon. The blond witch was still having insomnia inducing nightmares about the place where Glory had sent her. She had already been asleep when Willow got home from class. Not wanting to wake her companion, Willow had curled up with a good book and drifted off herself sometime around 9:00 pm. Just like the old married couples, Willow thought with a small smile.

“IS ANYONE HOME?” Dawn’s desperate voice called out, catching the red-haired witch’s attention again. Stretching the stiffness out of her joints, she headed for the door.

“Dawnie?” She asked sleepily undoing the deadbolt and peering out through a crack, “Why aren’t you in L.A.? Is everything okay?”

“Hell, No! Everything is not okay!” Spike said pushing at the security chain, his eyes glittering with a manic light, “Come on, Red! Invite us in! We’ve come bearing gifts!”

“Uhm,” Willow hesitated looking at Dawn and then back at the just stirring Tara.

She couldn’t help remembering the last time she’d given Spike an invite. Only the fact that he had been recently chip-neutered had saved her life. Briefly, it crossed her mind that if Spike had some how circumnavigated the chip, he could have sired Dawn and then come back here to kill the rest of them.

“Willow, It’s about Buffy,” Dawn said. The girl’s pleading eyes made the decision for the young witch. Willow pushed the door closed and disengaged the chain.

“Come on in,” She said to Spike as she reopened the door.

The vampire bounced past her like a five year old on a six soda high. He was dragging Dawn behind him his fingers wrapped in a death grip around her wrist.

“’Bout damn time!” He snapped spinning Dawn into a chair, “Is everyone in this sodden town dead to the world? Tried the Watcher for a friggin’ half-hour before we came over here. Nothing!” He sprang over to Tara and gave her a hard shove to the shoulder, “Come on! Come on! No time to be lying about. Get your Wiccan ass in gear!”

Willow muttered a quick incantation and Spike’s hand hit an invisible barrier around Tara as he tried to shove her again.

“Leave her alone, Spike,” Willow warned her eyes going dark. But even this reminder of her superior firepower wasn’t enough to rein in the vampire’s exuberance.

“Sorry, Red!” Spike said not sounding very sorry at all, “We are going to need her up and about so you better brew up the coffee or whip up the spell or whatever it takes to do that. And where the hell is Giles?”

“Giles?” Tara said sitting up and rubbing at her eyes as she tried to focus on Willow, “He called while you were in class.” She waved vaguely at the phone, “There’s a message.”

“Giles is in England,” Willow explained to Spike as she headed for the voice mail machine, “The Watcher’s Council needed to see him. Something about the new Slayer.”

“The hell with the NEW Slayer,” Spike crowed, “We ain’t finished with the old one yet. Matter o' fact, she paid me a little visit tonight.”

“Who?” Tara asked.

“Buffy!” Dawn said turning in her chair to look at the blond witch, “She’s inside of me!”

“Dawn!” Willow said stopping and looking over at the last surviving Summers’ girl in concern, “Are you sure about this? We’ve all been upset. Sometimes I have dreams where Buffy is still alive, too.”

“This wasn’t a dream,” Dawn said firmly. “Spike saw her. She talked to him.”

“W-what d-did she say?” Tara asked.

“That she hated pepperoni and liked bell peppers and needed a sodden napkin.” Spike said.

“We were eating pizza,” Dawn added as if that explanation was somehow enough.

“And it was…BUFFY?” Willow asked Spike.

“Clear as daylight!” Spike said with glee, “Sitting not a foot away from me. I grabbed hold of her and then she did that thing that Ben and Glory made all the rage and suddenly I was holding onto the Niblet. But it was Buffy, no doubt. She’s inside Dawn and you two Lover Wiccas need to work your mojo and get her back out here.”

“The key was an empty shell…” Tara said totally awake now and working things out in her mind, “Maybe Buffy’s spirit became trapped somehow…between life and death…I mean, if Dawn is actually made from Buffy’s body…then maybe…”

“Is that possible?” Willow asked her lover.

“I don’t know,” Tara said with a shake of her head, “We should call Giles!”

“Giles! I nearly forgot!” Willow reminded herself pushing the announce button on the voice mail.

“Willow? Are you there?” Giles voice filled the room, “Pick up if you’re there! Damn! Look I need you to call me back at the hotel as soon as you get this message! I need Hank Summers’ phone number. Something has gone horribly wrong and the Watcher’s Council is insisting that we exhume Buffy’s body. I don’t want to go into this over the phone…but it’s very serious. I will be taking the first flight back in the morning. I have told them that she’s dead but they won’t listen…they are beside themselves with fear…not able to understand or willing to believe…And I don’t know what to say anyway…because the fact is…The Slayer didn’t rise! For the first time in recorded history, Willow, the old Slayer died and a new one failed to rise.”

Drowning in You: Part VII
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