A/N: I'd like to thank a certain someone (let's see if she can figure out who she is) for, hopefully, not ripping my heart out for this very copycat- ish ficlet.

bDear Diary/b

Spike slammed into his crypt, letting the door bang off the wall. A stream of curses flowed from his mouth and he was sure that if Buffy had been around to hear him use such language in front of Dawn she would have hit him. Spike kicked his shoes off into the corner, hitting a table, and made a beeline for the couch.

Dawn came in behind him, and scrunched up her nose at the site of the room. Blood was pooling on the floor, where he had knocked a mug off the table. Broken glass lay scattered in front of the door and Dawn tiptoed around it as best she could. Making her way towards Spike she noticed how fast be had gotten completely settled in, flask and everything.

She heaved herself over the back of the couch and landed with her feet in Spike's lap. Spike jumped slightly, spilling alcohol onto Dawn's shoes.

"Buffy's going to smell that. What's with the moody tonight anyway?" She asked.

Spike wiped the droplets on her shoes with his hand. "Nothing for you to worry about, Little Bit. Just feel like being unhappy is all."

Dawn removed her feet from Spike's lap and turned herself around, so her face was leaning against his shoulder. "That's a stupid reason. Are you sure you don't want to be happy?"

Spike turned to face her, the whole 2 inches. "What's with you tonight?"

Dawn shrugged. "I read to much of Buffy's old diary. After awhile it makes you really want to try some of that stuff."

"Yeah?" He asked, grinning devilishly.

Dawn just smiled.