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spike batman

Love Curse, post 3

Posted by spike_survives on 2006.08.18 at 23:36

Please, feed_theplayers!

Continued from here


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Thank God she doesn't drive like her sister! We got to a motel safe, sound and crisp-free. Despite the decent driving, every bone in my body was hurting from being stuck in that position. There hadn't been much of a choice. From any other angle, all I could see was Dawn's body. Either her long, tanned legs. Or her cute, tight tummy. Or her pert breasts that bounced with every little bump in the road. 'f course, I could 've kept my eyes closed. Except, I couldn't.

 

In any other circumstances, I'd take two rooms, or, if finances required, I'd sleep in car. I don’t hesitate for a second to ask for only one room. I go back to the car musing over the fact that this is the first time in a hundred years I have an official identity. The scoobies have grudgingly helped me get everything so that I could get official custody of Dawn. The papers had been good enough for social services. They were good enough for the motel clerk.

 

Dawn was getting her stuff out of the trunk. Damn! I had nothing to sleep in. Sleeping naked has never been a problem for me, but considering my roommate, that would be quite unsuitable.

 

I give her the key to our room, and I pick up all the bags. I start following her, but as soon as I realize that my eyes are glued to her ass, I drop my gaze to the ground. Bloody hell! Since the damn contract is on her, I don't even have the option of leaving her with the scoobies. According to the clerk, the room had twin beds at least.

 

Dawn's going into the shower. I bolt out the door. Need to make a quick sweep around the motel. I'm sort of sure that the assassins hadn't caught up with us. Need to be away from Dawn for a while. This damn situation is pushing us closer. Too close for her own good. I'm keeping it under control for now, but if this shit keeps up like this, I know I'll fall into my old ways, chip be damn!

 

When I get back, I'm treated to another "towel only" vision of her body. I have to look down. She's gone and grown up on me. I get out the book Tara gave us, and focus on it while she's getting dressed. Before we turn off the lights, I do some of the cloaking spells.

 

I tuck her in bed, then bend over to kiss her forehead.

 

"We'll get over this, Bit," I tell her.

 

She squeezes my hand. I squeeze it back. I want to kiss her again. Forehead, cheeks, eyes, mouth. No. Not mouth. Not neck either.

 

I undress, trying hard to think of nothng but the danger surrounding us. I get in my bed, making sure that the sheet covers as much of me as possible. I know I shouldn't be naked in the same room with her, but we might not get another chance to sleep indoors for a while, so I make the best of it. Sure as hell I can't sleep naked in the same car with her.

 

She falls asleep sooner than I had hoped. I drift to sleep, such a shallow sleep that as soon as Dawn's breathing changes I'm wide awake. I'm kneeling next to her bed before she lets out the scream.

 

"It's just a dream, luv. Wake up now," I whisper, caressing her hair.


Comments:


shining_key at 2006-08-20 18:46 (UTC) (Link)
I can feel his eyes on me. As I'm driving they are linger, though he tries to look away I know they are there. When he is talking to the clerk I get a sense that he is watching me out of the corner.

He's like a dog. Drooling over me. I imagine his hands upon me and I want him. I want him and it makes me sick. I want to feel him hard against me. My wants make me feel dirty.

Which reminds me. It's shower time. We aren't in the motel for more than a minute and I'm in the shower. Maybe he'll follow me. Into the steam. It will rise from the shower. We can form our own.

I step into the shower and that's all I can think about. There is a war inside of me full of repulsion and lust. I need something to anchor me, to let me know what is right.

I decide to concentrate on our problems. The first being that we are probably going to die. The second being that I don't trust myself being in the same room as him. All night.

I step out of the shower. I can barely see the steam is all around and it's suffocating. I realize I forgot my clothes outside the bathroom. I'll have to towel it again. I hope Tara isn't watching us, the omnipresent ghost babysitter.

I walk out of the bathroom, white fog bellowing out behind me. My hair is clinging to my neck and face. I run for my clothes and get changed in point to seconds.

This day has tired me out. I'm done. I pass out into a fitful sleep. Dreams of Tara being drowned and burned. Visions of Willows black eyes staring me down... and Spike. Spike looking at me, Spike touching me, Spike drinking from me. I need to vomit. Even my dream self is creeped out.

I open my eyes for relief, but all I see is his worried face.

spike_survives
spike_survives at 2006-08-20 19:07 (UTC) (Link)
My hand strays from her hair onto the bare shoulder. Warm. Smooth. Tempting. So fucking tempting it hurts. I remember I'm naked when my dick twitches without finding the confines of fabric. How quickly I passed from worry to lust! It takes me too long to remove my hand from her. She's awake now. She smells of soap and fear. Little girl. Ripe for the plucking. Ghosts of other girls, just like her, encourage me. I did it before. Can do it now.

The chip. I watch her look up at me, trying to make up my features in the darkness. I can see hers perfectly. Such trust. How easily I could use that to my advantage... No!

I lean closer, kiss her temple, missing the mark enough to touch the corner of her eye. Her eyelids flutter closed. I press my forehead against hers, trying to contain the hunger.

I get back into my own bed. I'm about to fall asleep when the thought strikes me. Something's very wrong. I won't deny I've always felt some attraction to her, but for the past few hours the feeling changed. It was nearing the intensity of what I felt, what I'd still feel, for her sister, if she were still alive.

Hours later, I fall asleep despite my efforts. I know what kind of dreams will plague my sleep.
shining_key at 2006-08-20 20:04 (UTC) (Link)
He's naked. I'm both aroused and disgusted. It wipes all other thoughts out of my mind. He's trying to comfort me. Trying to ease away the bad dreams. When little does he know he has caused them.

I don't understand why I flinched under his touch, or why his piercing blue eyes seem to insight these negative emotions from me. We are fighting for our lives and I should be clinging to him. I should be showing my love and affection, but I can't force myself to do it.

The battle inside of me is making me physically inert when he leans in to kiss my head. Do accept in warmly? Do I move away? Do I catch him off guard and swoop in for a long, deep tongue wrestle?

He gets up and goes back to his own bed. I look over and his named form is motionless. At this point I am wide awake and alert. I can stand to just lay there. I got to the window and look out. Just to make sure that nothing is hiding out there waiting to pounce.

It's too dark. I can't see a thing. I can't believe how helpless I am to stop us from getting killed. I begin to sweat. The room feels like it's over heating. I'm up, sweating and pacing. I strip off the clothes that were formally so comforting.

I'm standing in the bathroom looking into the mirror. In my underwear. I don't recognize the person staring back at me. The tall girl with the creme colored lacy bra that's beginning to get to small. The fear on my face. The hatred. I don't remember ever seeing any of that.

I feel a rush of wind go by me, but I see nothing. The mirror doesn't lie, there is no one there.

spike_survives
spike_survives at 2006-08-20 21:05 (UTC) (Link)
I fall from one dream into the next. They're getting darker. I'm sinking in my past, I'm drowning in blood, I'm running, I'm fighting and I'm hurting. And in all of them, there's Dawn. She's sometimes innocent and kind, my prey. Then she's dark and cruel, she opens me up and rips out my shriveled heart. She's on her knees in front of me. She has a stake pressing in my chest. I can't wake up. Not even when I know they're only dreams.

I'm almost awake. All the time the nightmares are shallow. All along I can feel Dawn, the real Dawn, pacing around. The smell of her seeps into my dreams. Her feelings bleed into my mind, fear, confusion, arousal, hatred. She loves me, she hates me, she's mine.

I can't wake up.

I have to fight it. It's like fighting smoke. It's like trying to swim through fire. I don't know why I fight. The dreams are giving me all that I'm denied when I'm awake. I feed, and I fuck, and I kill. Dawn. Not Dawn. Never Dawn. Always Dawn.

Wake up! Fight!

Take. Have. Enjoy.

She holds the knife casually. She makes the first cut into my chest. Shallow. Then she kisses me. The second cut is deeper. The second kiss is soft, just a brush of her lips luscious over my chapped lips. My chest is open, she reaches inside, her hand is around my heart.

I can hear the noise from outside the nightmare, a slammed door. A sliver of light penetrates in my nightmare, hands shake me awake, Dawn calling my name. Innocent and kind again. Worried about me. Scared. Another lie, another trick. I fist my hand in her hair. She screams in pain. I roll off the bed on top of her. Am I awake? She's in her underwear, her breasts partially escaping the confines of her bra. I'm naked, and hard, and I can't tell if I'm awake or not. I push my body harder into hers. She whimpers, and she tries to get away. It's just another dream. My prey. Her head thrashes from side to side. I lower my mouth over her neck, keeping until the last moment my human face, the face she loves and trusts.

As soon as my fangs puncture her skin, the pain comes. Feels like my head has been split open. I let out a roar like a wounded animal. I fall over her, exhausted, engulfed by pain. She's not trying to push me away anymore.

I don't know how long it has passed. I come to my senses feeling her arms around me. She has trouble breathing with my weight pressing down on her, but she's cradling me in her arms as best she can. She whispers in my ear all the useless things I told her time and again when I was soothing her nightmares. She promises that everything will be all right. I want to believe her.

I'm so drained by the pain and nightmares that I can't even muster the energy to feel bad that I'm on top of her, stark naked. I crawl off her. I go into the bathroom without saying a word. What could I tell her? That it was a nightmare? I'm sure she figured that out. That I'm sorry? I should tell her that. But am I?

I'm hard and I'm hurting. I get under the shower. Under the cover of the falling water, I relieve some of the pressure.

Before going back in our room, I try to compose myself. I wrap a towel around my hips. Should've taken the pants in the bathroom.

"You know I'm sorry, don’t you? It was a fucking nightmare. The kind you can't wake up from. I'd never do anything to hurt you," I tell her.

I put my pants on. The first thought is to sleep in them. But I change my mind. There's something about this place. I have a feeling that we should put as much distance as we can between us and the Hellmouth.

"You'd better get dressed. We should leave. We'll sleep during the day."
shining_key at 2006-08-21 18:32 (UTC) (Link)
I hear noises in the next room. Agonized moaning and screaming fading into whispers. The noises of nightmares.

I rip myself away from my reflection to go to Spike's aid. At first I just call his name, hoping that he is in a very shallow dream state. When that doesn't work I begin to poke him, easing my ay into full fledge shaking. Shaking and calling his name. I'm wandering what is scaring him so badly.

I don't even have time to register that he is awake before he has me in some sort of caveman lock. He's hand snaps up and digs it's way through the strands of my hair. I scream as he pulls me off the bed.

He's on top of me, but his eyes are glazed over like he can't be reached. I'm to scared to scream and to repulsed to beg. I feel him against my inner though. Silky, soft skin pressing hard against me. He's hard for me and I know it. I'm breathing heavily, a half sensual pant, half scared wheezing. My chest hits his with every hitched breath, and I can feel my bra and underwear being pulled down in odd placed from the friction of our meshed bodies.

I don't know what to do anymore. I can't hurt him. It's physically impossible. He's pulling my head back, the roots of my hair are practically screaming at me. I don't make a sound as he sinks his teeth into me. It's on the opposite side then the other vamp, so the pain is the same for me. New puncture wounds are never fun.

He wails from the pain of the chip and falls to the floor beside me. I don't bother to move. I can sense that he is back. That the blood lust, or whatever the hell just happened is over.

I try to comfort him. It's not his fault. I whisper this to him. Tell him that we'll be fine. All the while he is nude and I can feel him wanting me. Stiff tissue rubbing along both of our exhausted frames.

He composes himself and goes for the shower. When he comes out we both know it isn't right here. Something isn't right. And distance will always help.

I force him to drive since it is still night. Barely, but still. At least it will give him something to concentrate on.

spike_survives
spike_survives at 2006-08-21 19:51 (UTC) (Link)
I can't help feeling that our flight is useless. I can't run from the maddening desire while its cause travels with me. She's trying to get some sleep on the back seat. That's what she said. I think she's disgusted with me now. She still trusts me, she didn't talk about going back to Sunnydale although I haven't worked up the courage to tell her that the contract is on her.

The seemingly endless stream of nightmares is still fresh in my mind. I have to find someone who can explain them. I know many shades of darkness, and I can tell that my little episode just now was not a regular Freudian type nightmare.

Tara. I'd call Tara for this. 'cept I can't do that anymore. She's gone. Pain hasn't quite struck me yet. I dread the time when it will. Willow could tell us in a heartbeat what's wrong. I have a definite feeling that she won't. Those words I heard in the wind, I'm still wondering if they were real.

Think, damn it! What are my options now? What are the dangers? For one thing, the Order of Taraka needs to be called off. For another, I need to cleanse myself of this sick new desire. Liar! Not new. You've always been sick. Fuck! I thump the steering wheel, willing the voices to stop. I hate the whining, vicious William-voice. When will that little bastard die and leave me alone?!

The contract. Pull yourself together! I'll call Harris. He's not much, but he's the only we have in Sunnydale. The only one sane. Maybe he'll talk some sense into his old pal. They were quite chummy that time I locked them together. Maybe he can still reach her, and together they can save Dawn's life.

For the nightmares, I know people. A couple of calls and I'll get hold of a shaman. I bet all I need is one of those nifty dream catchers.

As for the other problem... I'll just control myself. And if I can't? What did that ponce Wilde say about temptation? "The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it... I can resist everything but temptation."

I can smell her from here. I can hear her breathing, her heartbeat. I can have everything I want if I just yield. I grip the steering wheel tighter. Why am I still fighting it?

Daylight approaches. I wake her up. Her turn to drive. I mark the motel where I want us to stop on the map, and leave it on the passenger seat before crawling in the back with the blanket over me. Some protector I am!

I take the opportunity to touch her. I soak myself in the feel of her while I'm giving her a quick hug.

"Drive carefully," I say, stroking her cheek.
shining_key at 2006-08-25 00:50 (UTC) (Link)
My whole body is sore. Like the way staying up late at a sleep over will make your muscles complain. Only this is not a sleep over.

I'm alone in the front seat, or at least that's how it feels. Part of it is a good thing. I don't have to think of anyone but myself as I'm speeding down the road. Then there is the other part. The scarred version of myself rocking in a corner. The person in my mind that just wants someone else to deal with all of this crap.

I've learned to take the back roads. It would be faster to take the highway out of Sunnydale, but that can't do. That will only put us at greater risk. Too many people could see us. There would be questions, and police, being that I don't have my license and Spike is crotched in the back seat under a blanket. It looks like I'm smuggling in illegal aliens.

It's about three in the afternoon when we arrive at the motel. It's a dump. Grosser than the last one. The siding of the building is all falling off. Patches of roof shingles are gone. There is a swing set out side of the building that looked like it once had four swings. It now has one and a half.

I grab the duffle bag full of weapons before I even wake Spike up. I open the back door and kick him as a wake up call. He snags a few things and bolts into the motel.

I feel like a sitting duck. It's brood daylight anyone could see us running into the building.

The clerk is out right fugly. He keeps glancing at us as we walk away. He gives me the willies.

When we are safely tucked into the room Spike shuts the door and in one fluid motion raps his arm around my waist and pulls me close for inspection. He 'wants to make sure I'm okay.' That's what he says. I have a sneaking suspicion it's more like 'he wants to cop a feel.'

spike_survives
spike_survives at 2006-08-25 12:39 (UTC) (Link)
I'm still smoking here and there where the sun touchd me. I don't bother checking my skin. Need to be sure she's all right. As soon as I run my hands over her body my pure intentions darken. Her skin's so soft, and she's filled up in all the right place. I can barely stop myself touching more of her.

I sit on the bed and motion for her to sit next to me. She doesn't move. I have to tell her. I start pacing the floor, gathering my resolve. I stop in front of her, put my hands on her shoulders, tilt her head up to look me in the eyes when I tell her.

"Dawn, there's something we need to discuss. You know I love you more than anything else in this world, don't you?"

She's tense like a bow string. She flinches under my words. Pulls back from the kiss I want to leave on her cheek. I feel fucking tears in my throat. I don't want to imagine life without her. I fall on my knees in front of her, putting my head against her belly. She mustn't see the tears. I have to go on talking.

"As much as I hate the scoobies, I would send you live with them if it meant you were safe. Please forgive me, love, but the contract is on you. I killed the Shark, and they, whoever 'they' are, put the contract on you. Because it would hurt me a thousand times worse than my own death. It's my fault that Tara died. It's my fault your life's in danger. I want to do everything in my power to keep you safe, but if I make a single mistake it can cost you your life."

I stagger as I stand up. I think I got my emotions under the semblance of control.

"The only way you'll be safe is if the contract is cancelled. I'm going to call Harris. Maybe he can talk the witch into helping find out who put out the contract and scare them enough to cancel it. He may not believe me. If he's gonna act like a jerk, you'll have to talk to him. Can you do that, Dawn?"

I put my arms around her shoulders again, not caring about her attempts to break away from me. I want her safe. I want her close. I want her. I bury my face in her hair, trying to satiate my hunger with her scent.

shining_key at 2006-08-27 00:40 (UTC) (Link)
He is the cause of all this. My body instinctively flinches when he tries to touch me. Inside I know that part of it is my fault too, but my stomach can't help but twist when I look at his distraught figure. I pity him, I'm angry at him, yet some part of me still loves him, and earns for his touch.

I can't decide between pity and anger so I just nod when he informs me he's calling Xander.

There is a lot of yelling from the other end of the phone at first, but I can tell I'm not going to be needed. They both care more about my safety than their annoyance with each other.

"We're staying here for one day. One. And then we are leaving again. We'll contact Harris whenever we get the chance. He says Willow's acting sane, but he doesn't know what she can do."

He's looking intensely at me while saying all this. I feel a big surge of apathy coming on. I can't tell if it's my teenage hormones, or the fact that I could die at any moment, but I just don't care anymore. I barely avoid giving him an eye roll.

He can feel it I can too. The whole room is tense and silent. I stand stark still staring at him. He take two steps in pace mode and then spins back and stares at me. It's almost scary. I can sense his frustration. I wish it would stop, but I can do a thing. It sounds like he is growling, but it's too quite to make out.

Thirty seconds go by in repeat. Pace. One. Two. Spin and stare. Then he doesn't continue pacing. He's staring at me. In me. It's like he's trying to pour his hatred, and passion, anger, and fear into me.

He grabs my shoulders. I think he is going to shake me. Like he is trying to make me feel something, but he doesn't. He squeezes my shoulders in a vice grip and tilts his head down. The kiss comes so fast at first I don't even know what's happening. I stumble backwards into the wall behind me. He takes no notice. We are magnets. Part of me is resisting and the other part is struggling for more.

Are tongues are in some sort of odd Spanish dance. his darts in, hungry and hopeful. Mine recoils to the back of my mouth, and then decides it's okay and playfully springs back.

All the while we are pushed firmly against the wall. His body almost crushing mine. It's half fight half make out session.
spike_survives
spike_survives at 2006-08-27 02:08 (UTC) (Link)
Harris agreed to help after he gave me an earful of abuse. I don't have the energy to defend myself. Not to him, not to myself. Not when I brought death to her doorstep.

Dawn seems oddly detached. She didn’t say she forgave me. She didn't try to comfort me. I hate her for this. It is my fault we're in this. I should have never stuck around. So what if Buffy entrusted her to me? I should have left. She wanted me to stay. She chose me instead of the scoobies. She made me care about her.

Now it's more than caring. She's more than an obligation. I ended up loving her more than my own life. To make things worse, the brotherly love I had for her is rapidly giving way to obsession.

I do my best to fight the tidal wave of lust. I know it's wrong. Unnatural. Sick. She is the closest thing I have to a sister. Or a daughter. But when I look at her, I want her with the passion a man has for his woman.

If it were night, I could get out of the room. Somehow, she'd have a better chance to fight off an assassin than my urges. Maybe I'd do her a favor if I ran into sunlight.

I want to shout at her. What have you done to me? How did you reduce me to this, little girl? I grab her shoulders, but no words come out. I crush her lips in a brutal kiss. My body slams into hers, throwing us both into the wall.

Her reactions are driving me further into madness. She's fighting me off, she's pulling me closer. She tries to break away from the kiss, she tries to deepen the kiss. My hands begin to slide from her shoulders. She shivers when I cup her breasts, when I squeeze them through the fabric of her t-shirt. She arches into me, and at the same time she tries to shove me away. I growl with desire and frustration. Her hands no longer push me. They make their way down. My hardness presses against her lower belly. She manages to stick one hand between our bodies. She presses her palm against my cock. I feel it throbbing painfully beneath the denim, under her inquiring fingers. I thrust against her hand. I've never been so close to coming while I'm still fully clothed.

I break the embrace with the intention to undo my jeans and take her right then and there. I unbuckle the belt looking at her. I see lust and repulsion in equal measures.

"Fuck!" I whisper, and run into the bathroom.

I lock the bathroom door, and lean against it.

"Get out of the room!" I yell at her. "Go into the nearest church and get a bottle of holy water. Don't stop anywhere else, don't talk to anyone. Get it and come back as soon as possible."

This cannot be happening. I've been a monster, slave to my senses and my passions for over a century, and I have never experienced anything like it. I step I the shower fully clothed. The icy water hurts when it soaks through my clothes and touches my cock.

As soon as night comes, I'm off to find someone who can tell me what the fuck is going on.
shining_key at 2006-08-29 18:32 (UTC) (Link)
I'm not a child. I know that I could say no at any moment. I don't think I need to run off to purge myself of my 'dirty' thoughts. Why is kissing me a stake-able offense?

Either way, I'm off to go get the holy water. Which is just dandy. Considering that the order is still after me. At any moment I could be kidnapped, tortured, or just flat out shot, but because he can't keep his penis in his pants I have to run off to a convent.

At least the nocturnal can't follow me. No vamps to worry about. That is what I'm repeating over and over again as my slow trot to the nearest church becomes faster and faster. I'm sprinting. Where? I don't even know what town I'm in. I hope I come across a nun to ask where I am going.

Thankfully the hell mouths wicked, dirty, heathen, feelings spill into the nearby towns. I soon find a small chapel and run in.


spike_survives
spike_survives at 2006-08-29 18:52 (UTC) (Link)
I'll die a thousand times till she comes back.

The phone rings. I dare to get out of the bathroom to answer. It's Harris. He tells me he talked to Willow, and she agreed to help. He sounds freaked out when he says she looked odd. I'm guessing she's still in her black-eyed, black-haired, black blood visible under the skin stage. I don't give a fuck. The scarier she looks, the better she'll be able to deal with the baddies.

I keep dying. The lust has sunk back in the depths from which it rose, leaving only terror.

Where are you Dawn? Are you safe? Are you coming back? Have you left me?

I go back in the bathroom, and take off my clothes, hoping they'll dry better if I lay them out. It's not like my body gives any heat to help drying them. I wrap the towel around my hips, hoping that I don't have to fight anyone in this attire.
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