Chapter 4

Sober Sorry

Dawn was sitting on her bed, musing over her various clothes. It was Friday and it was summer. That meant party time, forces of darkness be damned-er-damneder. Skirt or pants? She eyed her two favorite items and bit her lip. Skirt always looked great, but pants were handy in case any…situation should arise-fighty ones. What the hell, skirt time; she decided slipping into the short denim skirt. She slipped on her favorite black strappy heels and looked at her shirt choices. A wine colored corset caught her eye. No time like the present, she thought as she slipped the corset on. She ran a hand through her slightly curled dark hair, and put on her make-up. She was in mid-stroke of her mascara when someone pounded on the door. She frowned and went to answer it. She wasn't expecting anyone.

Spike had finally caught her scent, leading him to an average looking apartment complex, but he could smell her boy their too. They lived together? Jealousy bubbled in him, she was his Nibblet! He remembered enough of the night before to know he made a huge fool of himself. Well no time like the present, he thought uneasily. He really hated apologies. He followed his nose until it led him to a door on the second floor. Her vanilla smell coated it, territorial. He raised a fist and knocked.

She swung open the door and stared at the person…or thing. Spike.

"How'd you find me?" she snarled at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Followed your scent," he mumbled, "Can I come in?" Dawn let out a chuckle and rose an eyebrow, "No,"

Spike sighed and ran a hand through his bleached locks, damn the bloody bitch, standing there all beautiful in the non-existent skirt, heels that stretched her legs for miles and top that revealed her smooth neck and swell of her breast.

"We have to talk," he explained.

"No we really don't, but I'll play," she replied and grabbed her jacket, the one with the hidden knife and stake, she sure the hell wasn't going anywhere with him unarmed.

They wondered in silence for a few moments, heading towards the park.

"So?" Dawn asked, the sooner he said what he needed to say, the sooner he'd be gone.

"How'd she die?" he asked quietly. Dawn flinched; this is not what she thought he would ask. Then again he had loved her, in his sick twisted way.

"The portal," Dawn's throat tightened as memories prickled her mind.

Dawnie I have to.

"It opened," she said slowly, her tongue felt thick and foreign in her mouth.

It's started, Buffy I have to go.

"And my blood dripped," she paused again.

It's the only way.

No.

"We have the same blood,"

You're a Summers. Our blood is one and the same.

"And she jumped,"

Be brave, live, for me.

Dawn tasted something wet and salty on her lip. Tears. She shook her head and glanced at Spike. He had a far away look in his eyes and she noticed a wet trail down his cheek.

"Sorry," and at that word the spell broke and they both crashed back to present times.

"Knew she'd go out with a bang," Spike said gruffly, masking his sadness.

"You were called," Spike pointed out, changing the topic.

"Called?" Dawn wrinkled her nose in confusion.

"You're the new Slayer," he clarified not meeting her eyes.

"What? No! Giles said-' she paused remembering how long it had been since she'd heard from Giles, it hurt, "Giles said that when the portal opened, I cracked, for lack of a better word, the Key in me has powers and they were exposed. Now I'm faster, stronger," Dawn met Spike's cerulean eyes, "powerful,"

Spike was still trying to wrap his mind around the emotions in him after hearing about Buffy's death. She'd died saving her sister. Somehow Spike knew that was how she should've died. Not as the Slayer, as Buffy. Dawn was telling him how she cracked, becoming more powerful. His eyes locked into hers. There was so much pain and wisdom in there; he could fully believe she was millions of years old instead of a Key inside a 20-year-old beautiful woman. And bloody hell, she was beautiful, in a different way then Buffy had been. Buffy was the sun, bright and strong, a force of nature. Dawn was the wind, the poet in him mused, powerful and silent and wise beyond her years.

"Where's the Watcher?" he said breaking the silence. Dawn let out a small chuckle, "he left right after she died, barely said goodbye." She shrugged.

He frowned, "Where's Red and Glinda, hell, even the Whelp and his Demon Girl?"

Dawn shrugged again avoiding his piercing gaze, "I haven't heard from them in three years,"

"Why am I even telling you this? You don't deserve to know," she burst and Spike flinched.

"I couldn't very well stay and get staked," He snapped at her.

"What? You wouldn't have, Buffy needed you," She shook her head. Spike let out a bitter laugh, "Sure pet, that's why she told me to go,"

"No, you left-couldn't stand the heat," she said angrily. Spike stared at her, what the hell? Buffy, stupid bitch had told him to go, said he didn't need him.

"Slayer told me to leave, said I wasn't any bloody help-stupid bitch I already had," he muttered. Dawn stared at him, had Buffy lied to her? Did Spike not really leave by himself? Did she force him to?

She pushed away the thoughts, she'd know for sure later, Buffy's diary.

"Whatever," she mumbled and the both dropped the subject.

Spike couldn't take it anymore; he had to tell her where he'd gone after Buffy ran him out of town. What he'd done for her, for Buffy.

"After I left I went to Africa," he told her.

Dawn frowned, "What's in Africa?"

"A demon who grants the heart's desire," Spike answered and Dawn took a step back.

"What was that?"

"To get Buffy what she deserved. Didn't work out the way I planned," he said ruefully.

"What happened?" she whispered, almost afraid.

"I got it," he announced, stopping by the swings in the park.

"What?" Dawn asked, confused. The chip?

"I got it back, the spark," He said in a rush. Dawn shook her head slowly; he wasn't making any sense, "What?"

"My soul, I got my soul back," His hands gripped hers tightly and she blinked from the touch.

"Huh?"

Really she was the master of one-word answers.