Here's my first attempt at fanfiction... or for that matter fiction of any kind. Mostly this started as a way to fill in plot holes that have been bugging me for years now. Like, who was the Doctor (I just don't believe it was Spike), and how did Angel get out of hell, what happened to Dawn's keyness, and what was up with that dominoes comment Doc made that one time? Anyway, it seems to have run away with me. This is a work in progress, and I welcome constructive criticism (my muse survives almost exclusively on Doritos and comments, so please comment :)).

Many thanks to my lovely beta, Mayalaen :)

Title: A New Dawn

Pairing: Spike/Gunn friendship, Spike/Dawn eventually, and maybe even a little Dawn/female OC just for the heck of it.

Rating: PG-13 for violence, language (ratings pertain to the chapter linked in the post. That way, if you like the first few chapters but squick easy, you can skip the NC-17's)

Summery: Post NFA. This one picks up where NFA left off, with our heroes facing impossible odds, at least until they get some unexpected help.

Disclaimer: I don't own it. I'm just borrowing it, and when I'm done I'll put it back where I found it.

Alive

Angel lay on his back, the rain falling in his face, in his eyes. He moved an arm to shield his face, momentarily forgetting the horrific lacerations on his back. To his amazement, the movement caused no pain aside from the dull ache that seemed evenly spread throughout every muscle in his body. He still panted, gasping for air he shouldn't have needed.

Beside him, he heard Gunn stir. The young man sat up, staring around himself dazedly. He felt his body for the wounds he knew were there, but couldn't feel, and found nothing but fresh scar tissue -- shiny, smooth and pale in the dim light. He looked around again at what was left of the assembled hordes of Wolfram and Hart, seeing Angel for the first time.

"The hell?" he finally said.

Angel groaned and sat up stiffly, feeling his back and finding only smooth skin, slightly harder and less sensitive than usual. His hands, where they were burned, felt the same. When he stood up, the headache that had been small enough to ignore flared up, pounding in rhythm to his still-speeding heart and momentarily making him dizzy. He froze. His heart? He put a hand to his chest, but couldn't be sure he felt anything. Next he tried the pulse point under his jaw. This time he felt it clearly and unmistakably. His hear was beating. With a sense of amazement bordering on awe, he put his hand on his face and tried to vamp out, finding that not only could he not shift into his demon face, but it was as if he'd forgotten how. He wasn't somehow being prevented from shifting, he simply lacked the ability to do so.

Gunn rubbed his aching neck as he stood up, and staggered as the full force of his headache hit him. The pounding lessened after a few moments of stillness, and feeling something wet on his hand, he looked and found blood. He felt his neck again, and finding more blood, turned to the vampire beside him.

"Did you bit me?" he asked with more irritation in his voice than anger.

Angel didn't seem to be listening to him. The older man stood, his fingers pressing into his neck and wearing an uncharacteristically goofy smile.

"Angel," Gunn called trying to get his attention. "I—I think I died. There was a tunnel and everything. Did you turn me into a vampire? 'Cause if you did, I am so stakin' you."

Angel finally seemed to hear him, as he looked at Gunn, grinning from ear to ear. "Gunn, c'mere, c'mere, you gotta see this." Despite his words, Angel stepped over half a demon to stand next to Gunn, his hand still pressed to his neck.

"Um, Angel…?" Gunn said, uncertain how to respond to his friend's behavior.

Angel grabbed Gunn's hand and put it to his neck. "Put your hand here. Feel that? Tell me you feel that."

"Angel, did you hit your head or something? What am I supposed to…?" Gunn's voice trailed off and his eyes widened in shock as he felt the tiny pulsing movement under Angel's skin. "Oh."

Spike's entire body hurt, ranging from the sharp pain of his many open wounds to the duller but still persistent ache of his deeper injuries, and the just-painful-enough-to-be-annoying pain in every muscle in his body. Actually, that felt almost good in comparison, like the muscle pain after a good workout. Spike did love a good fight. When the last injured demon he'd tracked down had managed to simply outrun him, however, Spike had given up. Wearily and favoring the more deeply injured of his legs, he limped back to the alley.

Not too long ago, he'd felt Angel touch the connection between them, so he knew his grandsire was still alive. Well, he wasn't dead anyway. No more dead than usual. Spike had been rather busy at the time, fighting, so he'd let the link fade into the back of his consciousness again, barely there, where it usually was, like background noise he only heard anymore if he tried to. Now, though, he startled at the sudden silence. He stopped in his tracks on a sidewalk and searched for the connection. There was Dru. Hers had always been the stronger connection, more easily accessed and harder to tune out. But where was Peaches?

"Bugger," he breathed, and once more ignoring his pain and mentally shoving his exhaustion aside, he sprinted as fast as his supernatural abilities would let him back to the alley. He knew all the while as he ran how useless it was to hurry. Angel was dead. He'd be lucky if he could even find the spot where he'd died. The dust would just mix with the rain and the dirt already on the ground.

For years he'd hated Angel with a passion, barely keeping it in check for Dru's sake. Now, though, they'd both changed. Angelus had been abusive, but Angel was merely… irritable. Over the last year, Angel had come to seem less like a cruel and domineering step-father and more like family. So, Spike ran.