A/N: I'm writing this with less than 4 hours sleep, so if it bites the big one I'm blaming insomnia. Go flame him! Or her. Just don't get on it's bad side. Read and review, let me know what ya think. The crossover will probably end soon, and after that who knows what could happen? *grin* Enjoy!








The loud whir of the cheap boat's motor was deafening in the silence of the black night. The small ocean breeze was not enough to drown the noise out, but Spike was fairly sure no one would hear and think it was someone out looking for a submerged vampire. Most likely they'd think a fishing boat or a couple out for some romantic setting.

"You're sure he said off the pier?" Gunn shouted.

"Bloody sure!" Spike called back, indignant.

Gunn, sitting at the wheel of the small speedboat shut off the engine, the sudden silence louder than the noise. "Well, I guess here's as good as any place, then."

"Right," Spike said. "We just gotta make this quick. Sun's gonna come up soon."

"And Angel and the sun aren't a good mix," Fred said with a small smile.

'Doesn't do me so well either,' he said to himself.

"How are you going to see to the bottom?" Fred asked then. "I mean, without an air tank and all, you can't go that far down. And how will you bring him up? Unless you get him out of it while you're down there. Which is impossible, without a crowbar or something, which we have, and it'd take up way too much air…and I'm babbling."

Spike rested a hand on her shoulder. "You let me worry about that."

He turned to Gunn, pulling off his boots and shirt. "Hand me that torch."

Gunn passed the large waterproof flashlight to him, and looked at Spike. "You're gonna freeze."

"You want him back or what?" he said testily. "Let me worry about, both of you. I'll find him."

Fred stopped him before he jumped over the edge. "You're doing all this for us, and we still don't really know your name…"

He was sure of his answer this time. "Call me William for now, love. I'll be back with Hair-Boy in a jiffy."

As a last thought he reached for the crowbar Fred had mentioned before and stuck it in his belt, disliking the heavy metal banging against his leg. With a deep breath he gave them a final nod and jumped.

The water was definitely cold, and it shocked him as he sunk, the crowbar and the torch adding to his weight. He opened his eyes, turned on the light, and turned himself around, diving deeper.

The murky depths gave him a chill-factor he didn't much enjoy, and he wondered briefly if it was worth it. After all, there were sharks in the ocean, and he'd never much liked Angel…okay, that wasn't true. He'd looked up to him at some point in his long un-life.

He swung the yellow arc of light here and there, searching for what seemed to him like hours, until the beam began to dim.

No doubt Fred and Gunn would have figured something was up, or guessed that he was dead and gone home..

Just as he was about to give up, he saw it.

A large metal box sunk deep into the sands of the bottom, looking like a giant underground coffin…which, really, was what it was.

He swam closer, battling to stay on the bottom, and came to the front of it. There was a glass panel; he looked inside.

Angel.

He was pale and gaunt, much like Spike himself, and his eyes were closed, lips pressed together tightly.

Spike rapped on the metal with his knuckles, and bloodied them up before realizing Angel couldn't hear. He then tried with the flashlight, and final pulled the crowbar out, slamming it against the metal.

Angel's eyes shot open. His pupils dilated, adjusting to the new light, and it took him a moment to focus on Spike's face. Upon seeing his old rival, he took on a confused look, which segued into anger, then back into confusion and hurt.

His eyelids began to droop again, and Spike delivered another blow which sent them wide open again.

He pointed to him, then at his own eyes, intently delivering the message that Angel was to look at him and keep awake.

He grimaced as he slipped the crowbar into the tiny crack between the lid and the box, but soon found that there wasn't enough space to get any leverage.

Angel's hopeful look faded.

Holding to the box to keep himself anchored on the bottom, Spike took a hold of the lid and pulled with all his might. He pulled and pulled, managing to break at least two of the fingers on his right hand, and cursed, accidentally pulling water in to his dead lungs. Even if he didn't need the air, it was more than a bit uncomfortable.

He slammed himself with a barrage of words. He should've at least had a bit of blood, then he'd not be so weak.

No good. He had to get Angel out. He was driven with the need and it surprised him.

He wedged his swollen bruised fingers into the small division and pulled again.

This time he channeled all his anger, all his guilt, all emotion into his arms. He thought of all the times Buffy had insulted him, all the times he'd wanted to hit Xander, all the good times with the Bit and the Slayer, every last morsel he could find, back to the words Cecily had spoken so long ago.

"You're beneath me," the voices of Cecily and Buffy mixed into his head.

With a violent clank and force that sent Spike backwards in the water, the door removed with a mass of bubbles.

Moving the door from his chest, aching with effort, weak from it all, he grabbed Angel's arms and pulled him from the box.

The older vampire clung to his arms with what little strength he had left, and Spike kicked as fast and hard as he could, propelling them to the surface.

His head broke surface long enough for him to cough, then he pushed Peaches up and sunk back under with the weight.

He kicked himself up, gagging the water from his lungs, feeling the fatigue setting in.

He needed to find Fred and Gunn before his body shut down involuntarily.

There! The light from the front of the boat, maybe a mile away, blinking.

"Can you swim?" he choked out, still holding Angel above water.

"What…what are you doing here?" was the raspy answer.

"Twenty questions later," Spike said. "Right now I need to get you to the boat. Can you swim?"

A pathetic shake of the head. "Not much. I'm weak."

Spike floated on his back, grabbed Angel around the shoulders and neck and began the arduous swim.

It took nearly an hour at that pace, and he could tell them didn't have much time before dawn.

"Gunn!" he vaguely heard Fred cry. "Look!"

He was there, the light shining down on the waters, and he could feel them reach down and take Angel from him.

Despite the drastic change, he was still too tired to swim and felt himself begin to sink.

"No you don't," Gunn grunted, grabbing the vampire's bare shoulders and dragging him limply into the boat.

He collapsed next to Angel, on the floor of the craft, and sent a look of gratitude toward him. "Thanks, mate."

"Yeah, sure," Gunn replied. "Forget to tell us something?"

He shot a quizzical glance to the pair standing there.

"Like how it is you can stay under for two hours and not be dead?" Fred pointed out.

"I may have left that out…"Spike said. "Right, look, I'm a vampire, grr, all big and bad. Can we please go?"

He must have looked pathetic, because the two took their seats at the front without another word. More likely they were just in a rush to get Angel home.

They pulled up to the docks a while later, and he stumbled off the tipsy craft, helping Gunn get Angel to his truck.

Fred and Gunn took the front and Spike sat in the back, making sure the unconscious Angel didn't bounce too much.

The air rushing past froze his cold skin and he swore ice must be forming on his hair. It wasn't, of course, but he was as cold as…wherever was really cold.

He thumped on the window, catching Gunn's attention even though he wasn't appearing in the rearview mirror. "Can you hurry it up a bit, there?"

Gunn merely pressed down on the accelerator as a reply.

He instantly regretted suggesting that. The air rushed past even faster, and he began to shiver.

"Damn it all to hell," he muttered with chattering teeth. "I come to ask a bit of advice and what do I end up with?"

Beneath a blanket, in deep sleep, Angel did not answer.




"Hey, Buffster," Xander said catching her arm as she went past in the Magic Box. "I just heard from someone. Looks like Spike's back in town."

"Uh, don't worry, Xander," Buffy said softly. "We don't have to worry about him."

"We don't? We do! After what he…tried to do?" Xander replied in a fierce whisper.

"No, Xander, we don't," Buffy said. "He's dead."

He let go of her arm, staring in a bit of a shocked way. "What?"

"Don't be so happy, Xander," Buffy said, stalking away with an arm full of books.

He watched her go. "Am I smiling?"

Sure, he hated the guy…but it was in that "love to hate" way. Over the summer…well, Spike had saved them all more than once. He knew he should be glad that the vamp was dead, really should…but he wasn't as glad as he would have liked to be.

"Buffy!" he shouted after her.

She turned to look for a moment.

"I'm sorry," he finally said.

She smiled a bit and nodded. "Thanks."