Spike paced around the room, waiting for Dawn to wake up. Willow had assured him that the spell had been cast properly, and mow all he had to do was wait for her to awake. It had only been four hours since he had killed her, but it felt like so much longer. He had never been a patient man, and this was killing him. Finally, he heard her stir, and he was at her side in a nanosecond. "Spike?' She asked, her eyelids fluttering. "I'm here, luv." He told her, relived. The next thing he knew, he was pinned to the ground, and Dawn was hitting him as hard as she could and crying her eyes out. "Damn you, Spike!" He caught her small wrists in his hands, and rolled her off of him. Once they were both standing up, she growled at him. "Why in hell did you have to turn me? I wanted to die!" He started to answer, but she cut him off. "And don't give me all that 'I did it for you, you didn't really want to die' bullshit. You 'saved' me so you wouldn't feel guilty about not being able to keep your promise to Buffy." She threw herself at him again, this time making sure she had grabbed a stake off the floor, where Spike had a pile of new ones, and places the tip directly above his heart. "Either dust me, or I'll stake you. Make up your mind." She snarled at him, her face taking on an expression he not so long ago had worn so often she had teased him that it would stick. "Bit, we both know you won't do it." He tried, "So put the stake down and- " But he stopped mid-sentence when he felt the wood penetrate his skin, and go strait into his heart. "Wrong answer." Dawn said to the dust, before grabbing his keys off his TV set, and leaving his crypt. Hopping on his bike, she drove off toward LA. Toward Faith.