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Spike dark

Love Curse

Posted by spike_survives on 2006.08.11 at 01:54


She should be back from school any minute. She's had gym today – I'm a freakin' soccer dad! Except for the part where I should pick her up from school, and I can't 'cause the sun's up. But I know her schedule better than she does herself. I hate it when she has gym 'cause she gets to shower before she gets home and I can't sniff her right. Can't smell anyone else on her. She's at that age where she's getting ready to do more than just hold hands with boys. I know that they sure as hell are ready for more. I know by smell all the boys who have ever touched her. I saw how they look at her when she walks away. The porch reeks of their arousal after she kisses them goodbye on the doorstep.


I chop off vegetables with too much gusto. I imagine chopping off their groping little fingers, their eager little dicks. But I can't do that, can I? Not with the sodding chip in my head. Not with a little girl who looks up to me like I'm a god. Yet, I know that if they ever touch her, if they ever defile her, if they... I'm gonna take the blinding pain and snap their necks.


I glance at the clock again. She's running late. It's only minutes, it's still daylight, but I cannot help the worry. Despite the bile in my throat at the thought of her snogging some dorky high school boy, I fuckin' hope that's the worst that can happen to her.


She's an hour late.


I zap through the TV channels while her meal is growing cold in the kitchen. I'm fighting the urge to pick up the phone. But who can I call? The whelp? He'd only take it as proof I'm not fit to be her guardian. I could call Tara, but she has classes. I know I can't call Willow. Red's beginning to give me the willies. And no one gives me the willies anymore.


I feel like exhaling when I hear her key in the door.


She's sauntering in, an hour and a half later than I expected her. I'm not showing her that I'm relieved to see her with arms and legs still attached. I want to go to my room to get some shut eye before I go patrolling tonight. Can't do that now. Have to give her a lesson first. We live on a Hellmouth and she should know better than keep me waiting.


I take her bag taking the opportunity to smell her as best I can without letting her know I do it. I throw it on the couch carelessly. She opens her mouth to say something. I can feel it in my bones that it's going to be something nice and carefree. I raise my eyebrow, and she closes her mouth.


"Food's cold," I say, sounding like a needy housewife even to myself.


No, maybe the growl in my voice says more than the words. It should say that I'm pissed off. It should sound even to her ditzy teenage ears like she should know better than to keep me waiting without as much as a phone call.


I'm going to my room wondering if she can read my anger in the set of my shoulders. I shake my head. At least she's not smelling of boys, or sex. Ice cream. She was smelling of vanilla and strawberry ice cream.




shining_key at 2006-08-10 23:37 (UTC) (Link)
Even to myself I'm amazed how normal things have been lately. It almost makes me sad when thinking about it. How much I enjoy just the mundane things like waking up at the same time every morning. I even enjoy going to Gym. I may be gwaky and awkward, but at least when I'm running lap after lap around the Gymnasium I'm not running for my life. I'm not being chased by demons.

But then again normal girls don't have to think about that kind of stuff.

I take my time after Gym today. No need to rush home. Spike's the only person waiting for me now, and though I know he wants to protect me, what does he care if I'm late? And this is the exact reason why when Janice asked me to go to the ice cream parlor with her I agree.

It took Janice and I longer than expected to get there. Though she lured me there so she could see her boyfriend.

The minutes tick by as I sit in a booth alone. Staring at Janice and her boy of the week as they ignore everyone and snog.

I start to think of who I would bring sneak out of the house to fool around with. My mind wanders and as I day dream. First all I can see is a firm jaw line and a firm muscles. Then thick bleached hair inbetween my fingers as I slide my hands to the back of his head.

I stop myself and open my eyes. I wont allow myself to think of that there is no point. But now that he has wondered into my thoughts I realize how late I really am. I pull Janice away from her STD maker and force her to drive me home.

I try to act calm as I walk in the front door, but I doubt it's going to fool Spike. His Blue eyes could always penatrate through my bull shit.

I compose myself and open the door. There he is waiting. Looming over me. I'm overcome with guilt, and yet another feeling. My heart begins to pound as I try to give him my explination, but the words get caught somewhere deep in my throat.

He mummbles something about dinner and stalks off.

I wish that he would show that he was angry with me. I want to know his passionate side. I want him to press his body against me and make me succumb to him.

Taht will never happen though. Once again I find myself alone, with a cold dinner, questions about our relationship and the strong urge to change my panties.
spike_survives at 2006-08-11 00:18 (UTC) (Link)
I threw myself in bed fully clothed. I didn't take Buffy's old room. It's Joyce's. But there's nothing in that house that doesn't remind me of one of them. Even looking at the Bit I see one or the other. I'm such an idiot. If it's this difficult for me without them, how hard must it be for her? No wonder that she goes to sleep Buffy's bed sometimes. She's just a kid.

Shouldn’t've gotten angry that she was late. She's going to end up not wanting to come home at all. She was inconsiderate. She's just a kid.

Oh, I can keep it up like this for a while. No way I'm gonna fall asleep now. It's like there's someone else in my head. The scary part is that I no longer know who's the real one. The voice that tries to calm down the anger, tries to see her point of view, reminds me I was so much worse than her. Or the voice telling me to go, to get on with my life, telling me that loving the Slayer was nothing more than a disease, a nightmare.

I toss and turn and wait for the sun to come down. I'm not thinking about the little girl eating alone downstairs. She bloody well hasn't been thinking about me when she stayed out in the sun, licking a vanilla and strawberry ice cream cone. I bury the image of her sliding her tongue over the runny ice cream in long, worshipping licks. Not the point.

What was the point?

There's always the same point. She disobeyed the rules. And what could I do about it? If she was really in trouble, what could've I done? Run out the door in the blinding sun and have my ashes blown in the wind. Maybe they were right. I'm not fit to take care of her.

There's always the option of leaving Sunnydale. And tear her away from the only home she's ever known. The two voices again. I'm already more to her than one person should be allowed to be. If I take her away from here, I'll be everything. I whip into silence the part of me that damn near purrs at the thought.

I hear her outside my door. She's holding her breath. Is she holding back tears as well? Don'1 wanna know.

'Come here, kitten, pet, luv. Everythin's fine. I'm not mad at you. I have you, bit.'

I wait to hear the door to her room closing. I count to ten, then to fifty, then to a hundred. Only then I go into the bathroom, to shower and change. Sun's almost down. Gotta get out there. Gotta do the only thing I'm still able of doing.

I lock the front door when I leave. Know it's just symbolic. Demons can get in the house. The Nibblet has a key. All that keeps her inside is her promise to me. All that keeps the demons out is their fear of me. For how long is this going to be enough?
shining_key at 2006-08-11 00:58 (UTC) (Link)
After the longest five minutes of my life of staring at the cold and awful smelling dinner I make up my mind to go talk to him. I can't let him stay mad at me. He's the only wall deviding me and nothingness. With him I have a chance of a future. Without him, there is no future for me.

I slowly creep up the stairs, in hopes that I wont disturb him further. Them memories come flooding back. Some of mom, some of Buffy, some of Spike just comforting me. They all intertwine in my head and I no longer know if I can stand. Tears prick the back of my eyes, and my throat becomes a swollen mess, but threw it all my feet are presistant on letting Spike know that I didn't mean to make him worry.

I step to his door, mom's door. The wood is so think that I can almost sense the space between us. I hold my breath in hopes that he wont her me with his freaky vamp senses. I stretch my hand for the handle and hesitate.

I know that I'm only going in there for him to comfort me, to tell me that he isn't mad, that he wont leave me like eveyone else did. That's when I know I'm being selfish. I pull my hand away and go to my room.

I stop my sniffling and listen. Listen for the click in the door. The noise that tells me that I'm alone again.

I sit by my window, and watch him leave. Wishing I could be with him. That I could be as strong as him. Wishing that I could be as strong as anyone except for me.
spike_survives at 2006-08-11 01:46 (UTC) (Link)
I'm done with the demons for the night. Either this was a particularly dumb race of demons, or I'm getting better in my old age. I sliced and diced them almost without breaking a sweat. Even the Slayer had more trouble than this. Granted, the Slayer had the habit of flapping her mouth a lot when she was fighting. I always found that rather endearing.

Then I remember, I used to be quite mouthy when I fought. Lately I just went for the kill. Mr. Efficient. No frills, no drama. No fun, either. I know who I have to 'thank' for that. Dawnie, and her big eyes, and her scared expression when I came back to her house bleeding and broken. Dawnie's whining little voice asking me if I was going to be all right. Dawnie and 'er poorly hidden tears, and barely muffled sobs I could hear through the door. Little Dawnie's brave attitude, patching me up like a sister of mercy.

Why do I have this burning hate in my gut sometimes? How can I hate the one person in this whole world who loves me? And, yeah, the only thing I still love in this nightmare of a world?

And I remember her bleeding. And I remember falling. And I remember the Slayer, jumping. All for her. Can't go home tonight. I'm in two minds as to where I should head for next. Willy's bar or the Bronze. Drinking doesn't always dulls the ache when I'm like this. 'sides, I can always get a drink at the Bronze.

I look at the young bodies pulsating with life and blood. It's like I'm a diabetic who just won a golden ticket to visit Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. All these Happy Meals on legs, and I'm muzzled by the bleedin' chip.

So, I do what I can. I get a drink. I pick a woman. I'm just halfway though my glass and I can already smell the arousal I stirred in her just with a couple of words. And the looks. Never forget the looks. Always been proud of what my eyes could do to a woman.

We're on the alley behind the club. I'm thrusting into her steadily, and a lot more gently than I would've thought after feeling all that hate, bitterness and anger. She's on the verge coming, and so am I, when I sense another presence in the alley. Fuck! They're human. 'Go away you wankers, or I'm gonna have the mother of all headaches when I try to hit you.'

The smell's familiar though. The wanker's not leavin'. He can't imagine I can feel his presence. He'd be right. A human wouldn't even notice him. But I can feel him there, in the shadows, watching us fuck. I hear the zipper sliding down. It turns me on to know my performance is watched. And appreciated. I hear him jerk off, trying to synchronize his strokes with my thrusts.

But what he whispers when he comes freezes me.

'Oh, Dawn!'

For a horrifying moment, I think she's there. Then it all comes together. I know the boy's smell because Dawn was wearing it after one of her dates. And the woman I've been fucking is small, slender, and has long, brown hair cascading on her back. The idiot kid jerked off imagining he was watching Dawn.

I'm too far gone to do anything about it. I come, biting my tongue not to utter her name.

I drag myself back inside the house. I pray, I actually pray to God that Dawn doesn't have a nightmare tonight. That I don't have to go into her room to comfort her. Not tonight. I'll forget everything my tomorrow. Everything's gonna be fine in the morning.
shining_key at 2006-08-11 02:36 (UTC) (Link)
Hours and hours of just sitting at the window. I know I'm pathetic, but nothing inside me motivates me to move. Sometimes I tell myself it's pointless, to move, to keep on moving. That's something that humans do. I'm not even sure that I'm real.

Still, there I sit, mooping and staring hoping that he will return.I'm loathing myself with every moment that passes. Hating my co-dependance, my need to feel wanted.

I sit for what feels like forever and a day, but in reality is only an hour and half, before I turn and start to do my homework. I stare at the pages with a blank expression on my face. I'm above school work. With all that I should be prepared for, none of it can be taught out of a government regulated text book. Education is no longer important to me.

I begin to get restless. I pace back and forth in the house. I promised I wouldn't leave. I can't. I can't make Spike More upset with me than he already is.

Fuck it, if he can leave me here to be gobbled up by any monster that desires it, then I can leave too.

I briskly walk to the phone, and carefully run through my options. I could call Janice, but she's likely out having sweaty relations with half the town. I'm reminded of how annoyed Spike was when this boy, David I think his name was, brought me home one night. I could tell that he was more annoyed with me than usual. His jaw clenched tight as I skipped into the room. His viens seemed to stick just a centimeter more. It was more than annoyance, whatever the emotion he was emitting, it made my pulse race and my knees go weak.

Danny, or David, whatever his name was. He was who I needed to see at this moment.

I called and he picked up on the first ring. I could tell he was desperate for some action, which suited me fine. He was at the house in less than ten minutes. He was every other guy in the high school. Insecure, pretending to be confident. I didn't really find any of them appealing, but he'd do fine for my needs at the moment.

The Bronze was the only place available on a week night. It was like a sweat shop with horribly loud music. Every teenager in Sunnydale grinding up against eachother. I danced my way into the middle. Loosing what's his face along the way. Making sure that I rubbed up against everymale in sight.

Once I was completely coated with sweat I went to go find my chauffeur. He was in among a group of boys our age. No doubt bragging about all the action he was about to score.

I told him to take me home, that I was bored. He thought mistook that for an invitation to go grope each other.

We went to his car, where I proceeded to let him fondle every inch of me. He carressed places I didn't know I had. And I allowed it. He went to unzip my pants and then I told him to take me home. I may be Tease, but I had already got what I wanted.

The lights were still out when I got home, Spike still wasn't home. I went straight to my room. Avoiding the shower at all cost.
spike_survives at 2006-08-12 18:41 (UTC) (Link)
I relax. I'll be in bed soon. I drank enough, worked out enough energy to fall in a sleepless dream.

No. Such. Luck.

I go by Dawn's room to make sure she's alive and well when the smell stops me dead in my tracks. So many scents. So many bodies. And smoke and alcohol. FUCK! She went out! She left the house in the dead of the sodding night!

Among all the others, I catch that scent again. My first reaction is to think it's just an olfactory memory. It's not. The boy's smell and Dawn's, almost wrapped into one, are all around her door. What the fuck has she done? Did she invite the bloody wanker inside and snogged him, across the hall from my room?! Is he still with her? I take another, more careful sniff. I concentrate on the small noises coming from her bedroom. There's only one heartbeat. It's fast enough to know she's awake.

In any other night, I'd let the anger and disappointment that she broke her word get the better of me. I'd stalk in her room in the middle of the night, despite promising myself never to do that for other than nightmares or immediate physical danger. I'd slam the door open and shout at her until I make her cry.

Not tonight. Not after that damn Freudian slip in the choice of my sex partner. I freak out for a sec. Did she see me earlier? I smelled the boy in the alley, but not her. She'd been out with him, but she wasn't with him when he caught the show. I do not want to think what would've happened if she saw me.

I'm going into my room, insane with anger and frustration, but I don't slam the door behind me. Can't let her know she got to me. I'm lost. I know fuck-all about raising a kid. I'm so lost. I have to call Tara in the morning. Till ten or so Red's usually still out cold from the night's excesses. I need some kind of guidance.

At least it was just snogging, not shagging, I tell myself. I'd know if it had come to that. I'm a perverted old man. I know how she smells when she's aroused. I know it when it's just moisture between her legs, and I know it when it's on her fingers after playing with herself. There's no scent like a woman's juices to linger so long on the skin.

All the relief I found with that girl in the alley, poof! gone. Now I'm worried about getting to grips with the teenage hormone factory in the next room.

I nearly forgot to set the alarm. Gotta be up before she goes to school. Breakfast to make, lectures to give.
shining_key at 2006-08-13 17:51 (UTC) (Link)
I can't fall asleep. If someone smothered my face in chloroform at this moment I don't think it would effect me in the slightest.

It's around three when I hear Spike walk through the door. His foot steps are slower than usual. Not by much, but by enough to tell me that he's tired. I get a little pang in my stomach thinking about how upset he's going to be with me.

I roll over on my side, back to the door. In hopes that if he matches straight into my room to start a pissing match I can pretend I am asleep.

A russle goes by my room and stops abruptly. I willingly let a satisfied grin slide onto my face, and try not to giggle. I wait for him to come in, and be angry. I'm ready with my retorts, I've had them saved for this moment. I'm anticipating yelling, and finally, the fire that I used to see in him. The fire that came to his eyes when he was talking to Buffy.

But there is nothing. Destraught and defeated I finally drift to sleep.

spike_survives at 2006-08-13 18:22 (UTC) (Link)
Feels like I just set the damn alarm! It buzzes loudly till I manage to hit it. This isn't the unlife I was thinking of when I came to Sunnydale. I have to wake up every morning at the crack of dawn – bad, bad choice of words – and be mother, father, and brother to a seventeen year old. I groan remembering the smells. What the hell was that all about?

I go through my morning routine thinking about it. Wish I had talked to Tara before talking to the little one. If wishes were horses... It's damn hard to think straight right now. I haven't gotten a good day's sleep in months. Coffee just doesn't cut it anymore.

Let's stay crooked and think straight. The smell was too thick for it to be just a miscalculation on her part. She wanted me to know she left the house. She wants me to know she's old enough to have her own needs. Wish I could ground her ass till she's thirty! What does she know about needs, urges, lust?

What would Buffy do in this situation? She'd yell at Dawn. Can't do that. Want to do that, but can't because there's no sisterly affection to tether her to me. She'd just run to Harris or Glinda. Or just away. And she'd hate me.

What would Joyce do? She'd try to understand. She'd try to get Dawn to talk about it. Hell no! I don't want to hear her side of the story. I don't want to be the one to give her the birds and the bees speech. Don't wanna be the one opening her eyes about what boys are really like, what they want from her, what they'd do to her if she lets her guard down.

I almost finished the omelet when I hear her entering the kitchen. I keep my back to her, trying to buy a little more time to think what to tell her.

She greets me in her sweetest, most angelic tone of voice, and I know she's trying to get a reaction out of me.

"Morning, Bit. Did you sleep well?"

Her face falls. She counted on me being really wound up by now. I put the plate in front of her. The scent of all those foreign bodies lingers on her. I clench my jaw, hoping she doesn't notice it.

"If you insist on leaving the house at night, you must be able to take care of yourself. I might not always get to you in time."

I cringe inwardly when I say this aloud. It's the first time I admit it, even to myself.

"Gotta start training you."
shining_key at 2006-08-13 18:52 (UTC) (Link)
Six thirty. Six thirty. Six thirty.

The alarm is insistent. I try to tell it via telekinesis that three hours of sleep is not enough, but it just keeps hollering at me.

Finally I jump out of bed and check the mirror, shocked at how I don't have circles under my eyes. I feel like I took a late night swim in a cess pool, but the shower is now my enemy.

This war is not over. I primp myself ever so carefully. Usually mornings are chaotic, but today I'm as cool as a cucumber. At least, that's what I'm going to let on. With all my school supplies packed I skipped down to the kitchen.

"Hola," Bright cherub smile cemented on my face. I'm hoping that my feigned innocence will push him over the edge.

"Morning, Bit. Did you sleep well?" What?! Did I sleep well?! No, I did not sleep well you... you... Pratt. I was painting the town red. I could have been standing under a red light all night and you don't care enough to reprimand me.

That's when he has to insult me further. What does he mean "I might not always get to you in time." I'm not child. I don't go around sticking my fingers in light sockets, I've been over that phase for a while now.

I stared at his back as he spoke to me. Smashing the omelet into nothingness. Sharp angry jabs with my fork.

But his last statement stopped me from mudering any more egg products. Training. Getting hot and sweaty with Spike. I'll show him how much I can already take care of myself.

spike_survives at 2006-08-13 19:18 (UTC) (Link)
'Finally' she says. Like preparing to face vampires, werewolves and Chaos demons is part of every seventeen year old's lifestyle. Besides, I have no intention of training her to fight. I'm gonna train her to flee. By the time I'm done with her, she's going to be the fastest chit in the whole of sunny California. Let's see her get the energy to go clubbing on a school night when she's barely able to drag herself back in the house.

I smile at the thought. If she's too exhausted to go out, that solves my boys with wandering hands problem. This prospect makes me feel so good that I forget to be angry with her about breaking her word. I'm doing a great job of forgetting. That little "oh, Dawn" incident from last night is out of my mind.

She stands up to leave. I walk her to the door, and lean to kiss her forehead before she goes out. I notice that I don’t have to lean all that much. She flinches a little under my touch, and looks up to me taken aback. I haven't been very nice to her lately. I tilt her chin up with two fingers, and I can't stop myself brushing her cheek with my thumb. The memory of the feel of the stranger's cheek rubbing against my neck takes me by surprise. I barely manage to deliver my line.

"Nibblet, just so you know, you’re grounded for two weeks."

shining_key at 2006-08-13 19:42 (UTC) (Link)
Cold. Calm. Collected.
I'm sick of it. When did he mature? When did he learn to hide his emotions the way he does?

Then again, maybe it is only concern that he is feeling, maybe he's adapting to this looking after me thing a little too much. Though deep down I know it's something more. The way he holds my face in his hands. There is more to it than fatherly love.

Two weeks isn't that long, and besides, this may work to my advantage. If I stay at home I'll see even more of him. If I go out, he'll have to talk to me about it. He can't avoid more than one outlandish adventure.

I rolled it over in my head all the way to school. I thought about all the possible situations that could come up... all of them somehow ending with his hands around my waist and our faces attached like magnets.

Though when I walked into the child prison they call school I suddenly realized something. I really should have showered.

I didn't learn a thing. Each class my eyes were fixed on the clock. I needed to be home. One minute it was the shower urging me to jump from my seat and run home. The next moment it was my anticipation of training.

Whatever the reason was, I was the first person out the door when the bell rang.
spike_survives at 2006-08-13 20:02 (UTC) (Link)
I pick up the phone. How pathetic is that I have Glinda on speed dial?

She picks up quickly. Her voice is barely above a whisper. That means that Red's asleep. Oh, how love makes bitches of us all! I'd feel sorry for her, but right now I need it all for myself. At least she has a warm body to cradle next to at night. Someone who loves her back. Because whatever faults Ms Rosenberg might have, she loves Tara.

"I need some help with her. She went out last night while I was on patrol."

"No, I didn't yell at her, what do you take me for?"

"Actually this is where you come in."

"Because I can't talk to her about things like that. In my time, girls found it all out on their wedding night."

"Sometimes they even had children by the time they were seventeen. That's not the point."

"Whenever you can. But soon."

Wonderful invention, telephones. I rummage around my room for the other numbers I need. It takes me about an hour to finish setting up the deal. I hate that I have to say no to an invitation to a poker game tonight.

I'm not tired, but I force myself to bed. It's either that, or staying by the basement door fighting the urge to go in. I never saw the bot since SHE died. That doesn't stop me wanting to go in, just to look at her. Some nights it takes all my will not to get a hold of the geeks and make them fix her up.

I fall into a fitful sleep, but at least I don't have to think of anything, don't have to feel anything.

I wake up at the sound of the shower.
shining_key at 2006-08-13 20:20 (UTC) (Link)
I was practically throwing off my clothes before I even got in the house. I had tunnel vision and the shower was the only thing I could see.

I turned the nob all the way to the right. I needed all the heat to burn off the grime. I felt like living in the shower. I told myself they would have to pry my dead corpse from the tub before I got out.

Forever in the shower turned into twenty minutes. I heard doors opening and closing through out the house and my captious side kicked in. I didn't want my wonderful shower time to turn into a slasher movie scene.

I quickly wrapped a towel around myself and crept downstairs. I may be naked if I had to fight whatever was in the house, but at least I would have the upper hand.

I walked into the living room and saw no monsters. My cheeks burned scarlet before I could even process how stupid I was. Tara and Spike were sitting talking in low, hushed voices when they both turned to face me.

"I heard... thought intruder... came to fight.... I'm still naked aren't I?"
spike_survives at 2006-08-13 20:54 (UTC) (Link)
I got out of bed groggily and walked straight to the kitchen. I guzzle a cup of cold coffee trying to get my senses back. This nap turned out to be too long. My mind's still blurred.

I hear a soft knock on the front door. My first thought is: social services. I look around the house on my way to the door. Place looks okay. Lucky I didn't open a bag of blood. That sort of thing's hard to explain.

When I open the door, I smile relieved. It's Tara.

"Why did you knock? Did you lose your key?"

She shakes her smiling back at me. Of course she didn't lose it. She's just considerate.

"I'm glad you came," I tell her. And it's the truth. She always has a calming influence on me.

We go into the living room. She asks me about my life. I snort.

"I'm doing great. A real champion, I am."

She asks about Dawn. I feel the frown creasing my forehead. It's good I don't have to worry about wrinkles. I tell her about Dawn's little exploit. Tara nods, smiling at me again. She agrees that the girl is just testing the boundaries.

I start telling her about my intention to start training her when it occurs to me that Dawn's shower is taking a little too long. What does she have to hide? She bypassed the sniff-detector what with me being asleep. Have to look for hickeys now.

I have a better chance than I could've imagined. My jaw drops open when I see Dawn creeping into the living room wearing nothing but a towel. Damn, I'm lucky it wasn't the social service people coming in one of those surprise inspections.

"I heard... thought intruder... came to fight.... I'm still naked aren't I?"

I close my mouth and I look at Tara. She's still smiling, but I can sense a change in her. What is she thinking now? Can she imagine this sort of thing happens a lot? I'm sure neither of us looks comfortable with the situation.

Dawn scurries back to her room. Tara looks at me for a while. She's not smiling anymore and it feels like it's full eclipse of the moon. I hadn’t noticed before how much her smile could light a room.

"You were right. I have to talk to her."

Great! She was the one person who trusted me around the Summers kid.
shining_key at 2006-08-13 21:28 (UTC) (Link)
The pit of my stomach dropped to the ground. I had to get out of that room and never come back.

I sprinted into my room and found the most conservative outfit I could find. There was no need for the scoobies to think that Spike and I just walked around naked all the time. Even if I wish that we did.

Just as I was pulling on the only polo shirt I own Tara slowly pushed the door open.

"So, when did we start fighting naked?"

At this point I think my face is stuck like this. There shall be a constant blush on my cheeks and when people see me they will say "there goes sun burn girl."

"I... really... I.." I need to breath. I eased myself onto the bed and tried again. "I was in the shower and couldn't hear clearly. when you came over the door slammed and I thought it was a demon or something. Better safe than sorry?"

Tara looked at me like she was trying to figure out how to say something. Like she just couldn't find the right segway.

I was starting to get fidgety in the silence.
"That was the first time with the naked thing, I swear."

That only seemed to make things worse. She looked more concerned now than she did even at mom's funeral. She sat down next to me and turned so she could look me directly in the eye.

"Dawn, I'm well aware that you know about the birds and the bees, So I'm not going to have that talk with you right now, but I also know that you had a bit of a girlish crush on Spike at a younger age."

Yup, my face was never going to stop being red.
spike_survives at 2006-08-13 23:15 (UTC) (Link)
My brain starts to work gradually. First, she needs training a lot more than I suspected. Going into a fight with a scrap of fabric around her waist and not as much as rolled up newspaper for a weapon! Second, she'd better convince Tara that we don't have 'that' kind of living arrangement, because I know full well that if Glinda can't turn me into a cockroach, Red sure can. And third, where had she been hiding those curves?

Out these three points, the second is most urgent. I can fix the first, and must forget the third. So I sneak up to Dawn's room, and listen to what they're talking. And, boy do I get an earful.

"Dawn, I'm well aware that you know about the birds and the bees, So I'm not going to have that talk with you right now, but I also know that you had a bit of a girlish crush on Spike at a younger age."

No. No, no, no. Don't drag out that bit of ancient history, luv! Dawnie, Bit, say something! Tell her that was like a century ago!

Under the worried voice screaming in my head, there's another one, a lecherous voice that drips poison in my soul. That voice whispers 'don't deny me, Dawnie. Fuck what anyone thinks. You love only me.'

Tara keeps talking to her.

"You’re grown up now. You have to help him, not make things more difficult for him.
I know that he cares about you as much as you care about him, and you have to understand that this is not a game. Spike is a good man, but he can make mistakes, too. Don't push him so hard."

Oh, why did she have to say hard? I bet Dawn's snickering or blushing.

"I'm not talking just about this incident. He said you went out alone in the middle of the night. He's doing his best to keep you safe. This is not a nice way to repay his efforts."

Tara's voice manages to calm even me down. I focus my attention on Dawn, and I hear the mad rhythm of her heart slowing down a fraction.

"I didn’t come here to reprimand you. I came to listen. If you want to talk about anything that you won't tell Spike, I'm here. He was worried about you going out last night to be with some boy. Is he right to worry?"

Say no, Dawn. This time both voices are in agreement, though for different reasons. I want to know her safe, the demon in me wants to know her mine.

This is ridiculous. She's Buffy's little sister for cryin' out loud! I just want what's best for her. I get away as soundlessly as I had come. I'm going straight to the basement to raid the weapon chest. I'm going to make her run carrying half her weight on her back. I'm not going to let her forget the towel incident. What kind of reaction to a break in was that, to come downstairs almost completely naked? What did she try to do to the intruder? Arouse him to death?
shining_key at 2006-08-14 02:24 (UTC) (Link)
I'm stunned into silence. How do I deny it? I can't, and I can't deny my feelings now because I'm not even sure what they are. So I just bow my head, avoiding eye contact.

"You're grown up now. You have to help him, not make things more difficult for him.
I know that he cares about you as much as you care about him, and you have to understand that this is not a game. Spike is a good man, but he can make mistakes, too. Don't push him so hard."

A smirk creeps it's way up to my mouth at the word hard. Then I think about what could happen if Tara told Willow about this.The smirk vanishes. I lift my head and open my mouth to explain for the third time that this was the first towel occurrence, but before I could explain she was speaking at me again.

"I'm not talking just about this incident. He said you went out alone in the middle of the night. He's doing his best to keep you safe. This is not a nice way to repay his efforts."

At this point I turned away from her. The world is not nice. It was not a nice way that the universe repaid my sister from saving it every other day. My mother's efforts to keep us both safe and normal were surely wasted.

And, yet, I feel awful about Spike and all I've put him through. The emotions entangle themselves inside of me and their increased pressure makes my shoulders sag.

Tara's not giving up though.
"I didn't come here to reprimand you. I came to listen. If you want to talk about anything that you won't tell Spike, I'm here. He was worried about you going out last night to be with some boy. Is he right to worry?"

What am I supposed to say. 'Yes, you should worry a lot. I'm out making babies every night of the week.' Or 'No, nothing to worry about here.' When clearly there is.

"No, I'm no bad apple. I don't even really like that boy." All my muscles seem to contract. My throat is getting tighter and I can hardly force the words out. The rest comes out as a half squeak half sob. "I was just alone and restless. Seems to be that way a lot lately."

Why am I always crying? My Tears of confusion and loneliness fall onto Tara's shoulder as she wraps herself around me. I try not to resent her for not being Mom, or Buffy. I try to be grateful for the amazing person that is holding me up.

I try to be strong, but I see no point of trying. I've seen the examples. I know what payment my efforts will get me.
spike_survives at 2006-08-14 06:03 (UTC) (Link)
I don't like the basement. This is fucked up, coming from a guy who usually sleeps in crypts, but this isn't the same. The basement is where the bot "lives".

I climb down the stairs and go straight for the weapons. I'm determined not to look at "her" corner. I pick up stuff almost at random, a crossbow, a small sword, a gun with silver bullets. Then I realize I can't take them upstairs while it's still daylight. Never know who might come in. I put them on a table, catching sight of the pink skirt of the BuffyBot. I reach out to feel the fabric between thumb and forefinger. My hand slips under the skirt of its own accord. I slide it up her thigh thinking that her skin feels as cold as mine.

I shake my head. Why are we still keeping her? I know why. "Because you never know." We might need her help. She's not just a sex bot, no matter what they all thought. She's programmed to be a Slayer.

I make my way upstairs just as Tara was leaving. The smile I get from her as she leaves is nothing as bright as the one I got when she arrived. She's beautiful. It surprises me to notice it.

"Don't fret, luv. We're gonna work it out," I tell her, trying to sound like I believe it.

"Be kind to her. She's little more than a child."

I nod. Kind? Can I still be kind?

"Come back soon."

That last bit just slipped out. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, then I thread my fingers through her hair, and lean to kiss her goodbye. I don't usually do that, but lately I keep feeling like someone's walking over my grave. Her hair feels like silk through my fingers. Her skin is warm and soft and I hold back going for the lips at the last second. She'd be so good for me. Too bad it's not in the cards for us.

I close the door behind her with a sensation of loss. Gotta snap out of that. I can hear the Nibblet behind me. Need to focus.

She has a strange expression on her face. Is she reading more in my goodbye to Glinda? Why would it bother her? I would've thought she'd be happy to have a woman around the house.

It dawns on me that she might not want to share me. After all, she'd shared everything with Buffy before. Could the witch be right about her crush? Could it still be lingering? Oh, no, that would complicate things too much. That would give a whole new reason to her nocturnal escapade. Was she trying to make me jealous?

I look her up and down. She's wearing more clothes than she usually would around the house. As if she's trying to make up for the nakedness from before. She looks like a veritable young lady. Maybe it's my Victorian upbringing, but I like to have to use my imagination when it comes to women's bodies, as much as I like seeing them naked. That's neither here, nor there. I'm not thinking of what her body looks like under the clothes.

"Go change into something more appropriate for training, and meet me in the basement."
shining_key at 2006-08-14 14:55 (UTC) (Link)
I finally put myself back together, just to be torn to sheds again.

After a few moments I calm down and Tara and I separate. She strokes my hair and looks at me. I hate that look. The one filled with pity and sadness. I can't hate Tara though the look she is giving me makes my insides twist.

She gets up without a word and walks down the hall. I can't stand to be alone, to not say goodbye, even if she is just leaving the house, so I follow her like the lost little puppy dog I am.

I see Spike by the door before I reach the stairs. I'd rather stay up here and listen to what they say about me when they think I'm not there, then be downstairs and have their pity glances.

Spike's words of encouragement sicken me, but less than Tara's words of pity.

"Be kind to her. She's little more than a child."

I think I recall hitting puberty, thank you very much. I've been through much more than a child, and I'm still standing. I don't want to hear anymore of this. I walk down the stairs to make my presence known.

I stop dead in my tracks as I see it. The look in Spikes eyes as he touches Tara's hair. The look that I thought was reserved for me. I know now that he harbors no feelings for me, not the ones that I was thinking of at least. I understand that I'm just an obligation to him now.

He looks me up and down. Normally I would be excited about this, but now...
All he does is tell me to change. I obey his command. Sulking up the stairs. I probably do look like a child. Even more so when I change into my running shorts and T-Shirt. The shirt is too small in an uncomfortable sort of way.

I hurry back downstairs, but he is no longer there. I'm exhausted already. I don't want to play hide and seek. I just assume that he is setting up equipment in the basement, and if he's not he'll have to find me down there. He's the one who wants me trained.
spike_survives at 2006-08-14 16:28 (UTC) (Link)
As soon as I enter the basement, my eyes fall on the Buffybot. Since it's still daylight, the basement will have to make due as training room. Having the bot there would distract her needlessly. I take it in my arms and look around the room for a while, not seeing any place to hide it. Her weight in my arms is so familiar. I'm weak and I look at her, sleeping peacefully, and I remember the trust and love I could see on her face. Expressions that the real Buffy never allowed me to see.

I decide on stuffing her under the bed. Just in time. Nibblet's trotting down the stairs. Well, she's in training gear, what can I say? Except that she'd better start skipping gym altogether from now on if that's what she's been wearing. That T-shirt of her is so tight on her that it leaves very little to the imagination.

She's looking at me disdainfully. I'm not even gonna waste my time wondering what was the matter now.

"Let's start with some stretching. You know how to do that, right?"

She shoots a few arrows with her eyes. I take it as a yes. She starts bending and unknotting herself. Her already too small T-shirt slides up, revealing even more of her skin. Hasn't that little talk with Tara help at all?

I cheat on my stretching. I fight every bloody night, never get a cramp or anything. A muscle twitches in my jaw remembering the excuse we gave Tara about me having a cramp and Buffy helping me with it.

"All right, Bit. Here's the first thing you need to know: if you can avoid fighting demons, avoid it. Running away should always be your first option."

I swear she's a breath away from staking me. Not what she had in mind when I talked about training her, was it? I let her anger run over me.

"But if you have to fight, be smart about it. You don't have any super powers. Unless you count that ear-piercing shrieking," I add and catch the stake she just threw at me. "See, that was not a smart move."

I advance on her. She needs to learn some manners.
shining_key at 2006-08-14 17:07 (UTC) (Link)
He thinks he's so suave. Thinks that he can avoid incident by shoving the memories under the bed. I know that the bot is down here, and I know what I caught him hiding.

He turns around and looks at me like he has done nothing wrong.
"Let's start with some stretching. You know how to do that, right?"

What does he take me for? Whatever, let him act like a cocky bastard. I place my legs together and reach my hands all the way to the floor. I'm more pliable then I look. I plan to continue to contort myself into every odd stretching position possible until he tells me otherwise.

"All right, Bit. Here's the first thing you need to know: if you can avoid fighting demons, avoid it. Running away should always be your first option."

Run away? That's the great training advice the wise sage gives me. Damn it. I could be doing better things right now. Like being anywhere except here.

I pick up the stake on the floor that is beside me. I need something to dig my nails into. Something to concentrate on so I don't flip my lid. One more word.... and I swear...

"But if you have to fight, be smart about it. You don't have any super powers. Unless you count that ear-piercing shrieking,"

Screw this. I don't need to be taunted relentlessly for no reason. In a fit of anger I throw the stake. I'm not surprised when he catches it. I am surprised when he comes after me.

I try to dart around him, but it's no use. He grabs my shoulders and pins me to the wall. The fact that he doesn't need to breathe is brought to my attention while I'm panting in anger. I can feel my nostrils fairing.

"See, this is precisely why you need to- -

Before he can get the rest of his sentence out I do the only thing I know how to defend myself. I kick him in the groin. He stumbles back enough for me to slip by him. I didn't have to see his face to know that he had the bumps. I could hear it. Practically sense it.

Thank god the cross bow is directly behind him, or it could have ended badly for me. I snag it and run to the other side of the room. My hands don't seem to be working correctly and I fumble with the arrow. I hit the wall and slide down it, at the same time clipping the arrow into place. I can't here anything except my own heavy breathing and the blood pounding in my ears. He is almost on top of me when I get everything in place.

I can picture us. Very picturesque. Him towering over me with his game face on. My cross bow jabbed directly over his heart. My finger is on the trigger. Are eyes lock.

So this is what if feels like.
spike_survives at 2006-08-14 19:46 (UTC) (Link)
She kneed me! The game face came up instinctively. I'd laugh if it didn't hurt so damn much. So she's not totally helpless.

She slips by me. I see her fumbling for the crossbow. Silly bint. I'm faster than the arrow. But I have to show her that I don't even need to be faster. Always must be smarter. She must be smarter than the other guy.

I'm running after her through the basement. I can hear her heart, pumping blood furiously. Can hear her breath, heavy. Can sense her scent, scared. I don’t drop the game face. This feels so much like hunting. I'd sell my soul, if I still had one, to sink my fangs in that alabaster neck of hers. I pounce on her. I can almost taste her fear.

Don't need to look to know that the crossbow points to my heart. I can feel its tip scratching my skin through the fabric.

Feels like I'm drowning in her eyes. Drowning in fear and need. Her blood would gush out like the finest champagne. Bet it'd taste sweet and strong. Bet it'd fill me with energy and power.

The balance between fear and need shifts. She wouldn't be made of Buffy's blood if she didn't get a little hot when a drop-dead gorgeous master vampire's on top of her.

"Arrow's not wooden, Pet," I purr.

Her eyes fall onto the crossbow before she can control the instinctive reaction. It's all I need. I snatch the old weapon and throw it away like it's nothing more than a bothersome toy.

"You need to be smarter than that," I tell her, resuming my human face, as if I hadn't been a hair's-breadth away from biting her. For real.

"Not all demons are the same. The kneeing doesn't work on everybody. You did good to try to take me by surprise. But as you could see, not all instinctive reactions are good. They can be used against you. You should be the smart one. You should use the other's natural reactions against them."

She's seething, but I don’t care. I'm in lecture mode now. I really need to play the professor now, 'cause otherwise I might think of the way my instincts nearly took over me just now.

"Humans think they're the top of the food chain, but when it comes to demons, you can't measure up. So, you have to use their momentum against them."

I'm taking her on patrol tonight. Should be a fairly quiet night. She can do some laps around the graveyard.

shining_key at 2006-08-14 22:34 (UTC) (Link)
'You need to be smarter than that.' blahblablah blah blah. He's just trying to cover up the fact that I got the upper hand. He's just angry that he was wrong about me taking care of myself.

I ignore the rest. I'm just glad his normal face is back. Vampire Spike gives me the Wiggins.

Apparently the training session is over. I'm dismissed. Which is good because Spike is beginning to get on my nerves. The way Buffy used to. Telling me I needed to be more careful, that I'm too young.

I need a nap. I plan on going to sleep and not waking up until school starts tomorrow. Three hours of sleep and all that has happened today, I'm amazed I haven't collapsed already.

I fall onto the bed without taking anything off. My sneakers are tangled in the sheets, but I don't have a chance to fix it before I fall asleep.

My nap is short lived. The moon was just coming up when Loud bashes on my door frame wake me up. Spike is worse than Buffy.

"Wake up sleeping beauty we've got patrolling to do!"

At least he woke me for something useful. I don't bother changing, and thankfully Spike says nothing about my attire.

The walk to the graveyard is brief. Sunnydale is full of them. It makes sense with so many people dying all the time.

I go to sit on a lopsided gravestone when Spike gives me a look.
"Sprints," He leers at me when he says it.


"You know, running. You. Run. Sprints."

"I thought we were patrolling?"

"No, We're training you, and you are doing sprints." His smirk doesn't fade. He knows how disappointed I am. He's feeding off it.

Yeah, this is safe. 'No, Dawn. You can't leave the house with your friends, but you can run laps around a cemetery as to attract monsters.'

I don't think my body can take anymore of this. I start to run. Spike just sits and watches me. I'm running out of site and he's just staying there? I'm not going to lie, I'm beginning to worry about my own safety. It's dark and all the trees look eerie.

Maybe I can out run my fear. I just keep running. I'm approaching a large elm tree when I hear a snapping twig. I can hear my own voice screaming in my head: 'You're gonna die! You're gonna be eaten and no one is here to stop it.'

I tip toe towards the tree. It's a chipmunk, I tell myself. Not a demon, a cute, furry friend. I'm not hearing anymore noises.

I start to jog again. I get past the elm and begin to breath a lot easier. I pick up my pace and turn to make sure all is good by the tree to make sure that I'm not being chased by anything.

As I'm looking back I run into something. It feels like hitting a brick wall. I fall backwards onto a tree root. The wind is knocked out of me and my head is spinning. My vision isn't working right. It's too dark, and everything is blurred.

I shake my head and look up. Someone is standing over me. Is it Spike? Did I run into Spike? No, the man creature bends down, grabs my arm and pulls me up like I'm a rag doll. He's all muscle. I flail and try to kick him, but nothing happens. I'm helpless and squirming in the arms of a monster. Of the vampire that I'm going to be killed by.

Then my senses start to work again. I get a flash back of earlier today:
"But if you have to fight, be smart about it. You don't have any super powers. Unless you count that ear-piercing shrieking..."

I suck in the most air I can and let it out. My own ear drums want to explode with how loud I'm screaming. I sound like a banshee. Half the town has got to have heard me. I pray to a god that I don't believe exists. I pray that Spike heard me.

My screaming only seems to edge the vamp on more. The pain is overwhelming. Two cylinders forcing their way into my neck. My vocal cords stop working and my scream dies out.

I can feel his hunger going through me. I can feel him thriving off my life. My head feels heavy. Like there are rocks inside of it. I can't fight back any longer. I can feel my muscles give in. I succumb to the helpless feeling. I let it take me over. The edges of my vision begins to fade. I can feel myself starting to faint. A sudden sensation of slipping into an abyss.
spike_survives at 2006-08-15 14:27 (UTC) (Link)
Now, wouldn't you know it? When she sees I'm not joining her, she's running out of sight. I follow her, glad that I don't have to look at the minuscule T-shirt bouncing as she ran. I know it's not the T-shirt that's doing the bouncing, and that's the nub of the trouble.

Trailing her stealthily and from a distance isn't difficult. She's concentrating on the wrong things, the wrong sounds. Gotta teach her what to listen for. She hasn't got Slayer instinct, nor does she have vampire senses.

Her heart rate goes rockets when a chipmunk snapped a twig. I stop when she does, I roll my eyes, and shake my head in despair. What the fuck! Okay, so she doesn't realize that anything clumsy enough to make such an obvious noise isn’t all that dangerous. But if she does think it's a possible threat, why is she slowing down, and actually going in the actual direction of the actual sodding danger!!!! She needs to get her head straight.

I don't have time to get worked out about it even more, because I sense the shark-demon and two vampires behind me.

"Good evening, Mr. Spike. Nice night to have a stroll through the graveyard."

"Working on you social skills, are ya?" I ask distractedly, my senses focused on Dawn who had resumed her jog. " Whadda you want?"

"You know me, uh ... there are a lot of things I would like, Mister Spike. A house in Bel Air... with a generously sized swimming pool... and of course, the forty Siamese that you owe me."

Oh. My debt. Forgot all about it.

"I'll get your kittens, don't worry."

"I don't worry, Mister Spike. But I don't want anyone to think I'm going soft. So, I'll make sure you remember getting me my kittens by tomorrow night."

I'm about to tell him it's not enough time when I hear Dawn's scream. I launch toward the sound from a stand still. I don't get anywhere because Shark's two minion vamps are blocking my way. I dispose of them quickly with the background of the high pitch scream.

"That's just bad manners, Mister Spike. Now you owe me one hundred kittens," the Shark says, stepping in front of me, walking through the vampire dust. I'm about to reply when the scream dies out. If the sound was like a slash across my belly, the lack of it is like a stake through the heart. I snap the shark's head before the echo of her scream has even died out.

I move like a lightning flash. She's limp in the vampire's arms. NOT DEAD! I scream inside. He's dust before I hear the faint noise of her little heart give one weak beat.

I fall to my knees, and take her in my arms. She's not dead. Her breathing's shallow, her heart rate, slow. I press my hand on the still bleeding punctures on her neck. It's going to stop soon. He's drunk enough from her to slow down her heart, so that the blood doesn't jet out of her. It trickles through my fingers. I rock back and forth with her, pressing my forehead against hers.

"'m sorry, Bit. Not gonna be mean to you anymore. Wake up now, baby."

She's stirring. I stand up, and carry her back to our house. My rule that forbid me to sleep in her room is out the window. I'm not leaving her side. Not for a while. Maybe not ever.
shining_key at 2006-08-15 14:54 (UTC) (Link)
I feel nauseated before I even open my eyes. When I do open my eyes I wish I hadn't. There is far to much color in my room. It's giving me a headache.

I try to sit up but my body has other plans. Plans that involve being horizontal. It feels as thought something is pushing down on my stomach. I look down and see a hand that doesn't belong to me. Wrapped firmly around my waist is Spike's left arm.

I try to slide out from underneath it, with my grace, and balance I crash to the floor. It was bond to happen to one of us. Two full sized humans cannot fit on a twin sized bed.
spike_survives at 2006-08-15 15:08 (UTC) (Link)
Her attempts to leave the bed wake me up. I let her slide out of my grip, but when she hits the floor I jump across the small bed and I'm next to her.

"Where were you hurrying, Pet?"

I watch her as she struggles to form words. Contrary to what she thinks, I've never considered her weak before. But she's weak now.

The phone rings. I pick her up in my arms and take her downstairs. I put her on the couch, turning on the TV. Only then I answer the phone.
shining_key at 2006-08-15 15:18 (UTC) (Link)
I've barely hit the ground when his face is above me. I can practically read the panic in his eyes.

"Where are you hurrying, Pet?"

The wires that connect my brain to my mouth no longer work. I was just trying to get up like a normal human being, but that didn't works so well either.

There is a faint ringing noise and it takes me a good ten seconds to remember that phones ring. He scoops me up and takes me down stairs. Plops me on the couch. Regis and Kelly is on TV.

He leaves for the phone. I hope he doesn't tell the person on the end about the vamp. Especially if it's one of the scoobies.
spike_survives at 2006-08-15 15:32 (UTC) (Link)
Not good news! Not good news at all! Damn t all to hell!

My impulsive act of killing the Shark comes back to bite me in the ass. Clem says that word goes around the demon community that the big Sharks are PISSED OFF about that. Apparently the guy was a very profitable asset. They're so pissed off, that there's a contract out for me.

What Clem doesn't say, and he doesn't need to say, is that Dawn's probably as much of a target as me. Because they all know she's my weakness. More than stakes and holy water. More than the sun itself. If they harm her, they’ve done a better job than simply killing me.

I put down the phone, looking at her. She seems bored. She turns off the TV and gets up. I look at her inquiringly. She rolls her eyes and informs me that she needs to shower and prepare for school. Yeah, like I'm gonna let her out of my sight!

"Take the day off, Bit. I'll write you a note for school. Now sit back down, and I'll get you anything you want from the kitchen. 'm not even gonna frown if you get crumbles all over the couch."
shining_key at 2006-08-15 15:47 (UTC) (Link)
He feels guilty about last night. I understand that, but they can't attack me in the day light. Why does he want me to stay home? Whatever, I'm not going to agrue about staying home from school. That's one perk of almost being sucked dry.

I sit back down on the couch. I tell him that my stomach can't handle anything anyway. For some reason he still runs off to the kitchen. I want to ask him if Tara can comeover, but I also don't want her seeing the demon hicky on my neck.
spike_survives at 2006-08-15 16:12 (UTC) (Link)
Nothing to eat? I don’t want her going through that stage again. At least she's not arguing about school. As if she would! I'm going in the kitchen anyway. I'll find something that will tempt her. As I rummage around the fridge, I think about the security problem.

I could use some wards around the house. Red could put them up like a shot, but I don't feel like asking her. I'll probably ask Tara. I look at the watch. Too late to call her now. Red's probably up, too.

Sometimes I feel like I'm Glinda's secret lover or something. It's fucked up that we have to hide our friendship from Red. But there are some areas of my life where I need to play it safe.

I thought I always put Dawn's safety above everything, but after last night... Maybe we should leave Sunnydale. To hell with her emotional stability! What's that gonna count for when some big ass demon chops her into little pieces and eats her up? What would be so bad if she fixates on me? She'd get over it. She'd have a goddamn lifetime to get over it. She'd have a life.

I go back with the carton of chocolate ice cream I had hidden behind the frozen vegetables for emergency situations. I had envisioned a "he doesn't like me. Why doesn’t he like me?" type emergency, but doesn’t matter now.

She takes it with less enthusiasm than I was hoping for, and I sit next to her on the couch. She inches closer. I love the feeling of her body curled onto mine like this. I let her pick the program she wants to watch.

I relax under her warmth. Or at least I give her this impression. I'm constantly alert for any noise. Daylight does not offer any protection. On the contrary. It only means that I can't go out and other vamps can't get in. But there are so many other ways to attack us.
shining_key at 2006-08-15 16:32 (UTC) (Link)
He comes back carrying a pint of ice cream. I don't want to upset him by refusing to eat it, so I take it without complaint. He's very tense as he leans back onto the sofa. I flip through the channels until I find reruns of "passions." I hope that his favorite program will help him relax.

I nudge closer until I am almost on top of him. I don't care how it looks. It seems to make both of us feel at least a little more comfortable.

Right as I'm getting situated he jumps like there are springs on the couch. I lean over to see where he went. He's at the door looking through the peep whole. I'm starting to think he has gone loony when there is a knock at the door.

I can't help but roll my eyes. Whatever is there it can't be anything that dangerous if it knocks.
spike_survives at 2006-08-15 16:58 (UTC) (Link)
I feel the guy at the door long before he knocks. I'm looking through the peep hole before he's even raised his hand. Looks human, but isn't. I can smell him. What kind of a lame ass hitman is he?

I open the door and yank him inside by the collar. Dawn gasps in the living room but I pay her no attention. Time for explanations and lies later. I see the ring on his finger and knows it's useless to ask anything. The members of the Order of Taraka don't talk. And they don't ever stop. I should know. I hired them sometimes. I snap the guy's neck. He flops to the floor. I hoist him over my shoulder and take him into the basement.

When I get back up, Dawn's waiting for me with all the questions and fear I do not want to face.
shining_key at 2006-08-15 17:11 (UTC) (Link)
I was wrong. I now know that some villains are polite and like to knock before they try to kill you.

Spike opens the door and pulls in a guy that looks relatively like a cave man. I want to know what's going on. The slayer doesn't live here anymore. She doesn't live at all. Why are there people hunting us in the day time.

I listen intently hoping that Spike will yell something at him before he kicks the guys ass. Bellow something that will answer at least a few of the questions spinning around in my head.
Neither of them say anything before Spike breaks the guys neck. He walks to the basement without even turning his head towards me.

When he comes back I don't let him ignore me.
"Who was that? Why are they trying to kill us? Why have you been so on ends lately?"

"We're not safe here"

I know, but why not?
spike_survives at 2006-08-15 18:22 (UTC) (Link)
"Who was that? Why are they trying to kill us? Why have you been so on ends lately?"

Don't want to answer. A contract on my head is one thing, but damn Order of Taraka for forty kittens. Well, forty kittens, two vampires and a Shark.

"We're not safe here," is all I can manage.

She contains a "duh", but only just. She rolls her eyes instead. I decide to answer.

"I haven't been "on ends" lately. That was an assassin."

I take out of my pocket the ring that I removed from the dead guy down below. Shouldn't scare the chit, but she'd better know. I hand it to her without a word.

I wait silently through her confusion, until I see the horrified expression of recognition on her face. She looks up at me. I nod. Yes, it was the same people I had hired only a few years ago to kill her sister.

"Last night, when I was following you, I ran into some guys. I owed them some kittens. I killed the Shark."

She's staring at me, not understanding.

"He was in my way," I say as an explanation.

I'm trying to think of a way out of this. We can't outrun the Order. They keep coming. They don't stop unless the contract is taken off by the client. We should leave the house, but I can't walk out in the middle of the day. I should call Tara to set up the wards, but something's holding me back. If Red found out she wouldn't just hurt me. She'd take Dawn away.

I look at the frightened little girl. Maybe it would be better for her to be away from me for a while. But the dark voice inside me lets out a roar. Mine!
shining_key at 2006-08-15 20:24 (UTC) (Link)
I stare down at the ring in my hand. The order of Taraka. Even Buffy was afraid of these guys. Part of me is screaming that Spike and I should leave town, but then there is that other part. The tiny voice in my head that is telling me to leave. Leave him and go to Willow. Xander. Anyone that isn't being chased by assassins.

I've become very good at ignoring things lately, and decide to ignore the voice that tells me to abandon Spike. Some of this is my fault. Had it not been for me he wouldn't of had to kill that Shark.

Spike is staring at me. Waiting for me to finish my interrogation. Fear takes over me and I no longer care about an explanation. I look up from staring at the ring.

"We need to get out of here," I try to sound confident when the words fall out of my mouth.


Spike runs to the closet in the hallway and pulls out a large bag. He then sprints to the basement.

I take this time alone to got to the kitchen. My hands are shaking as I pick up the phone. It feels wrong, but I need to let someone know what's going on.
spike_survives at 2006-08-15 20:54 (UTC) (Link)
I hate running away! I'm itching to stay and fight. I wanna stay in the house and chop to itsy bitsy pieces any bastard son of a bitch who dared pass the threshold. I shove weapons in a bag till it's almost as heavy as me.

Dawn's just hung up the phone when I get back from the basement.

"Who did you call?"

A Scooby probably. Looks like she has made the hard decision for me. She's leaving me. Her eyes are filled with tears. I drop the bag, and cup her face. The bandage over the wound on her neck scratches my palm, reminding me I keep putting her in danger.

"Don't worry, Pet. I understand," I say, and I feel a shroud of darkness around my heart.

When she whispers that she called Tara, the darkness lessens. When she says she asked Tara to help us with some spells and such, I'm so relieved that I tilt her face up and I kiss her on the lips.

It's chaste and short, but it's a damn kiss on her lips! I try to pretend that there's nothing wrong with what I did, and I sweep her in my arms. I hold her to my chest for a while.
shining_key at 2006-08-15 21:20 (UTC) (Link)
My conversation with Tara is short. I just tell her about what has happened. I'm not shielding the panic in my voice. There is no point. I want her to know how scared I am. I ask her for her help and beg that she doesn't tell anyone else.

I'm just hanging up the phone when Spike bonds up the basement stairs. His reaction to the phone call scares me more than our impending doom.

"Who did you call?"

I can't tell what he is feeling. His face reads a mixture of fear, sadness, and anger. By this point my whole body is shaking, and a wave of tears are hardly concealed by my eyelids.

He's holding my face in his hands as I slowly tell him I called Tara. He softens. I tell him why. His reaction is unexpected, but not unwanted.

His lips graze mine. His are cold against me in the California heat. They're exactly like porcelain. Cold and smooth.

The fear is sucked out of me right away. We forget that we are running scared and hold each other in the empty kitchen.

He breaks away from me. I could stay in his arms while they came for us. I wouldn't mind, but he knows that we can't just stand here like that. We have to ready ourselves. Besides, I can't show Tara that she was right about us.
spike_survives at 2006-08-15 21:44 (UTC) (Link)
"Was she alone?" I ask. I don't fancy running into Red.

Dawn nods.

We can't stay here.

"Call her back and tell her we’re coming over."

I sling the heavy weapons bag over my shoulder, put a blanket over my head and prepare to make a run for the car while Dawn's on the phone. She holds the door for me, and I dart out. Luckily, the car's parked in the shade. When I throw the weapons on the backseat the car sags a little. I crawl low in the passenger seat and wait for Dawn.

I was beginning to worry when I hear her locking the front door. She opens the trunk and throws a bag inside. The girl had the presence of mind to get a change of clothes. Unlike me, I realize.

She climbs in the driver's seat, and I'm sitting so low in the chair that I'm at eyelevel with her torso. She hasn't changed out of that skimpy little t-shirt from last night. She's got to hate me so much for the unexpectedly thrilling couple of days. And I mean hate in the "not having time to shower" way, not the same old, "you put my life in danger" kind of hate. I don't mind the smell, but she probably feels very clammy by now. Maybe she has time to shower at Tara's place.
shining_key at 2006-08-15 22:00 (UTC) (Link)
I call Tara and she picks up right away.

"Not safe here. We are coming over." Click.

We don't have time for small talk. I do have time to get some clothes though. I loath this shirt and how it's always bunching up. I hate it even more that it has my dried sweat and blood on it.

I don't bother to mention that I don't have my license as I jump into the car. I floor it all the way to Tara's.

We pull up to her house. Spike is about to jump out of the car and bolt to the door when I grab his arm. I wordlessly grab something from my bag in the back seat and hand it too him.

"what is this?"
"It's an umbrella. Now you can look a little less crazy in the day light."
spike_survives at 2006-08-15 23:07 (UTC) (Link)
An umbrella. How about that? She mumbles something about getting a shower, while I try not to feel like a ponce when we go toward the house. Tara opened the door since we got out of the car. She invites me in, but when I try to step inside I hit the invisible barrier.

"What the hell?" I exclaimed.

Tara looks down, ashamed.

"Willow must have put an extra anti-vampire ward. S-sorry."

I freeze like a freakin' statue on the Rosenbergs' porch. The two women look at me from inside the house. I can assume I'm quite pretty, standing there, twirling my umbrella. The porch is sheltering me from the sun, but I keep holding the damn thing. Because you never know. That phrase makes me think of the Buffybot. We should swing back by the house and get her, don't care how much this might bother Dawn.

"Go in, Bit. Get your shower. I'll talk to Tara."

Unlike me, Dawn's been inside the house many times. Tara agrees with me, and my girl leaves my sight again. I push away the fear that's tugging at my heart.

Tara looks at me worried. I can't even smile. I tell her about the Shark and the assassins. She tells me about protection spells. It's not very encouraging.

"We'll have to leg it if I don't find out exactly who hired them, and get the contract revoked."

She tells me she has a book inside. She's back with a hefty manuscript, and a bunch of other stuff I can only assume are necessary ingredients for the spells. She sits down on a bench I've been ignoring in my anxiety. I obey when she pats the spot next to her. I'm tempted to lay my head in her lap, and let her stroke my hair like I was a stray cat.
shining_key at 2006-08-16 13:36 (UTC) (Link)
I can't believe that Willow would use that sort of barrier without telling Tara. It isn't fair for Tara, it's her home too. I can't think about it for too long, I need to get this sweat and dirt off of me. I feel disgusting and I know that Spike can smell my BO, even if no one else can.

I worry about not being there when the magic talk is being done. I might need to know some of the stuff she is saying. For this reason I make my shower brief and hurry back out to them.

They are sitting on the bench on Tara's porch. Candles and odd herbs are scattered in front of them. Why are they always whispering when I come in? Are they even talking about the spells anymore?

I clear my throat. They both shoot concerned glances in my direction. I take up and Indian position across from where they are sitting.

"So, what are we talking about."
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