Will tore the sheets off the bed. The room still smelled like sex, and he knew the sheets were the main culprit. He wished he could burn them or something else really dramatic. Instead, he'd just wash them. They didn't have many linens to spare.

His life was a joke.

Drusilla had left to spend the night with her girlfriend, Darla. Though Will knew she'd likely find another guy to shag before the night was over. That just left him to stay home and fume about what had just happened. The entire ugly scene replayed in his head, shrouded in an angry haze. He couldn't even remember some parts of it.

Each staccato moment was like a punch to the gut, though, and after Will had thrown the sheets in the washing machine, he made a beeline for his whiskey. Tonight he was gonna drink the pain away.

Hours later found him sitting in front of the couch, going through old photo albums and crying like the lonely ponce he was. On a page filled with photos from his own wedding, his attention was gripped by the picture of Dawn. Long brown hair and gawky teenage limbs. He hadn't seen her in four years.

She was going to be at Angel's wedding tomorrow.

Damn anything that stood in his way. Will would hold onto whatever he had left in this life. And Dawn was one of those.

No wonder he made her Buffy's sister in his dreams. A treasured, special position that needed to be protected. That compelled him to partner up with Buffy to save. His unconscious was a brutal bitch sometimes. Always teasing him with warped, tempting alternatives and then yanking them away.

Or worse, corrupting them into tortuous parodies of their real life alter egos. Drusilla in his dreams, a certifiably mad vampire who haunted his very existence. What did that say about how he saw his wife that he would turn her into that in his dreams?

The night disappeared as all nights do. Will awoke in the morning in a sticky puddle of his own drool. He'd fallen asleep on top of the photo album, Jack bottle still in hand.

His phone was buzzing. Drusilla actually commanded him to pick her up and give her a ride to Angel's wedding. As if last night hadn't even happened. Or didn't matter.

He could have laughed and hung up. He could have responded with a biting remark. He could have told her to go to hell. He didn't do any of that, though. Instead, he grudgingly agreed and hung up.

She had been right. He didn't have any balls.

He only had time for a quick shower. He popped some Tylenol for the hangover while he got dressed and ran out the door. He was going to see Dawn. He had to hold onto that.

Drusilla was silent on the ride to the church. Will itched to confront her. Let her know that she was the one at fault, not him. Nothing came from his mouth. Instead, he dutifully drove to the wedding. A divorce surely wasn't too far in the future. This farce of a marriage couldn't hold together after what had happened last night.

She wandered away from him as soon as they arrived. Will stood on the sidewalk just outside the front door. He grabbed his pack of cigarettes from his pocket and pulled out a smoke. He'd supposedly stopped smoking last week, but he didn't think he could get through this day without some nicotine.

He waited for the cigarette to do its magic and watched the other guests arrive. There was Willow, the old friend of a friend who didn't ever talk to him anymore, despite the fact that he thought they'd bonded. Oh, and Alex, who made no secret about not liking Will. Not to mention Angel's new buddies: Charles and Wesley and Fred. All were too attached to Angel to care two shits about him.

Will wondered if anybody would even notice if he left now. Drusilla would certainly be able to find another ride home.

Just as he saw her, though, he remembered why he had bothered to show. Dawn slammed her car door shut and stood to her full height, which was much taller than he last remembered. The heels probably helped with that. She had blonde highlights in her hair, and her face had narrowed with age. But when he looked at her, he still saw the little teen he'd known so long ago. Who'd looked up to him and admired him and thought he was someone worth something.

Will stepped forward and tossed the cigarette to the ground. He intercepted Dawn on her way to the door.

"Dawn," he said, putting his hands in his pockets.

She froze in her steps and her purse slid down to the crook of her elbow. "Oh," she tugged the strap back up and shifted her hold on her gift. "William. Angel didn't tell me you'd be here - "

"Yeah, I'm here with Dru." Bloody stupid. Maybe Angel hadn't wanted him here? "Kinda happy to see you, actually. Thought I might have to sit with Anya."

Dawn's gaze looked past him briefly. "Yeah, actually, I'm here on the bride's side. She's my sister..."

He frowned. "Angel's marrying your sister?"

She nodded. "I don't think you ever met her. She was away in the Peace Corps when you and I…hung out. Um…but she's back and she met Angel and they've been inseparable since."

"Oh." Why did his thoughts keep turning to Buffy? That would be ridiculous. She only existed in his head. "Well, maybe we could catch up at the reception..."

"I'd rather not," she said sharply. As an unsettled quiet descended over them, Dawn shook her hair back from her shoulders and shifted the present again. "You're kinda in my way."

Without thinking, he stepped to the side and watched her walk right past him into the church. What the hell was going on? They hadn't talked in years, but she didn't have any reason to be mad at him. Did she?

As his thoughts caught up, he jogged in after her and caught her arm, pulling her off to a quiet corner in the lobby.

"Dawn, hold on a sec. What's wrong? Did I do something...?"

She nodded. "Yeah, you did something, William. You left a broken-hearted sixteen year old girl to move across the country because of some job. Then you got so wrapped up in Drusilla, you didn't bother to check in with me at all."

"Broken-hearted? Dawn, - "

"Oh, and you left me pregnant because apparently, 'pulling out' isn't one hundred percent guaranteed. Congratulations, Dad. It got aborted." She shook her arm away. "Don't try to talk to me again."

Then she walked away. Will felt like he'd been doused in ice water and then electrocuted. That wasn't how it had happened. No way. Okay, they had had one night after some drinking - too much drinking - where they fooled around a bit, and, yes, that had been a bad idea because she'd been so young, but it was nothing. She'd said she was fine. He'd believed her. And then the job offer in New York, of course he had to take that! But they'd left on a good note.

She'd hugged him goodbye.

They'd been fine.

Pregnant...

Will felt dizzy, and he braced a hand against the wall to ground himself. He glanced up to see Angel greeting people in the lobby. Drusilla hung off his arm, openly flirting with him. As Will's heartbeat quickened, time seemed to slow. Was he stuck in a movie again? Here was the part where Angel grinned at Drusilla with an amorous look. She led him away, into one of the dressing rooms.

Angel was fucking Will's wife before his own wedding.

Will closed his eyes. It didn't hurt as much as he thought it should. Maybe because he was already hurting so much, a little bit more just didn't register.

The room fell away then. The jumble of voices dissipated, and Will felt as if he was turning inside out. Every part of him constricting and expanding at the same time. Then the turmoil came to a close and it was like a thick blanket had been lain over him. Every sense muffled.

"He's a vampire, right? Shouldn't he, you know, heal?"

It was Buffy. Even with the blanket dulling his senses, her voice rang clear. He struggled to open his eyes and was treated to a vibrantly bright image of her, arms crossed in frustration, talking to Giles.

"Of course. He should. He was in a very bad state when we found him, Buffy. It'll take some time."

Spike tried to move or call out, but nothing in his body worked. He wanted to tell her he was okay. As long as she was there, he was okay.

She'd come for him. She'd stayed by his bedside. It meant something. It meant that he was worth giving a damn about.

Buffy sighed, uncrossing her arms to rub the back of her neck. "I'm just worried, Giles. He's only woken up once, and he wasn't exactly with it then, you know?"

Spike's frustration grew at his inability to move. She was right there, and he couldn't do anything to signal her. Whatever healing abilities he had, they weren't working fast enough.

Buffy looked down at the floor, and Spike felt the world become darker around him. He wanted to scream. He wanted to stay with her. Just a little bit longer.

But he couldn't.


tbc...