Spike & The Schoolgirl (BTVS,ADULT) 4-12 chs 1-6 DEAD&BURIED

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destinyc
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Spike & The Schoolgirl (BTVS,ADULT) 4-12 chs 1-6 DEAD&BURIED

Postby destinyc » Mon Apr 12, 2010 8:51 pm

ImageRating:Adult
Disclaimer:BtVS and Angel are owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I am not profiting from this fic. I also do not own any songs or brands mentioned.
Pairing-Spike/Dawn, Spawn

Shortly following NFA. Some details may be slightly AU, future-fic
A/N-I've written a Max/Liz pairing with a related title, and while this story shares some of the basic plot points, they are very different stories.
Also-in this story, Dawn has some difficulties with the Catholic Church. No disrespect is intended.

Synopsis: After graduating early from a Catholic boarding school in Italy, Dawn secretly returns to Los Angeles to find her favorite vampire and ask him for a very important favor.

She stood outside the door of his basement apartment, the nervous shuffle of her loafer-clad feet digging into the blisters obtained from trekking across four airports, two bus terminals and a taxi stand since she left Italy yesterday morning. Impetuously travelling across two continents and an ocean, Dawn now stood in the cool, dark hallway, her heart racing in a mixture of excitement, nervousness, and trepidation. She thought briefly of the reprisals that would have followed if she had told anyone of her plans beforehand—Buffy would have thrown a fit and forbidden her to leave the country, Willow would’ve called her ‘Dawnie’ and pled with those entreating eyes and escalating whine for her not to go; Giles would’ve cleaned his glasses till they broke.

Dawn, however, consulted no one but herself in preparation for this surprise reunion. In the sliver of dusky mirror that had hung in her tiny, ancient dorm room, Dawn had given her new look a covert test-run, preparing in advance for the impression she wanted to make. Sultry, sophisticated, mature—this is the Dawn she hoped the vampire would see when he opened the door. Dawn hoped that Spike’s image of her in little-girl braids and a blue football helmet would be replaced with someone more glamorous, confident, and alluring—someone who could pretend to be all those things that, in this moment, seemed to elude her.

She blinked against the heaviness of the drugstore mascara she applied in the taxi, fluffed her full, dark locks, accented with a few highlights from the strong Italian sun, and rolled over the waistband of her plaid skirt before tying the white shirttail at her waist. Dawn added no perfume, though, knowing that to him, she had a scent all her own--anything else would only seem artificial to his keen senses.

She wished for a sexier outfit, a silky red dress, maybe, some high heels, though not too high—towering over him might seem a bit awkward, she reconsidered. Lacy underthings, a small scrap of a thong, a strapless bra that would make her breasts spill over in a tantalizing display of the curves she acquired since she had seen him last would be a far cry from the simple white cotton briefs and brassiere issued from the St. Francis of Assisi Girls’ Convent School. Dawn dropped her small carry-on bag to the grubby hallway tile to reach inside her bra and adjust her breasts, so they might appear as voluptuous and desirable as possible—no small feat in underwear also designed for nuns.

She had been practicing what she would say to him—‘Hey, sexy, fancy a shag?’…, ‘Just happened to be on the continent and thought I’d drop by’…, ‘You jackass, why couldn’t you call to tell me you were alive?!’-- though Dawn had yet to decide how to greet the vampire that up until recently she thought was dust underneath the rubble of Sunnydale. And then, soon after she learned of his return from the undead, “the great Poofter” (as she had taken to calling him [courtesy of Spike’s influence, of course]) led him into yet another suicidal battle against the senior partners of Wolfram and Hart and the throngs of demons that descended upon LA.

Fortunately, Willow’s coven had tracked the sudden influx of demon activity from surrounding dimensions. Though that immigration of evil forces also spilled over into Europe (seems that some demons had a preference for the Old Country), keeping Buffy and her new recruits rather busy, Willow and several of her sister Wiccans converged on Assisi, and after much research on harnessing the power of the Key, Willow and her sister witches pierced Dawn’s tender flesh, spilled a trickle of her blood into their magicks, and prayed to the goddess that the portal they opened would be strong enough to draw the worst of the demons, in whatever corner of the globe they may be, and send them into one of the more sparsely-populated hell dimensions. As the witches called forth the names of the battles being fought, each scene shone in the rippling circle—Istanbul, Berlin, Prague—Dawn watched, transfixed, as images of Buffy and her sister slayers in battle flowed before them. Sighs of relief and prayers of gratitude were heard as many of their enemies were pulled back from the fighting, back into the glowing portal, crackling with an emerald electricity.

When Willow called on the great goddess to reveal the battle in the City of Angels, Dawn scanned the scene intently, desperate to find her vampire, her friend, whom she had so callously threatened with a tortuous death not long before he burned to save them all. Amid the thousands of demons amassed to destroy the city, Dawn finally spotted the blonde-haired figure dressed in black, fighting as he bled, as he suffered, believing that after dying twice, after years of loving, death, and then, redemption, that this was it—the last dance, the big finale. Ironically enough, Peaches was at his side.

The witches held Dawn back, their chanting voices growing hoarse as they tried to be heard above Dawn’s plaintive cries. She pled to jump into the portal and give aid to her vampire even while her hand tried to staunch the flow from her wound. As the gateway pulled at the invaders, as the numbers of the enemy started to thin, Dawn’s tears began to wash away the blood, and the image below was once again a scuffed wood floor, and Dawn was surrounded by the circle of witches glancing from one to the other, their faces awash with a mixture of hope and trepidation. A small, terrified sound echoed from the doorway, where Dawn found her roommate clutching a small chain of beads, beseeching God for protection.

The school allowed Dawn to expedite her studies, and certainly allowed Dawn’s roommate, Maria Lousia to be reassigned to a nearby convent school when panicked ramblings about demons, witches, and vampires became distracting. Dawn was quietly given her diploma six months early and her trust fund released when she turned 18, the state of California forcing Hank Summers to pay back child support for a child that in reality, he had no part in producing, though to this day, he remained vaguely guilty over his absence in her life.

So here she was, with a vague message sent to her sister via Andrew and a small knapsack containing a handful of possessions and certainly no clothes any more revealing than what she currently wore, Dawn stood outside the vampire’s door. As a child, she would burst into his crypt, the day’s triumphs and woes on her face, seeking solace from the outsider, the one who understood her acting out, her transgressions, the one whom she later rejected without mercy or just cause.

What do you say after over a year apart, to someone whose absence left a gaping hole in your heart? She had hours on the airplane to rehearse—indignation, a casual hello, an irresistible seduction. She tried to play them out in her head—which would result in her favor? Which would cause him to send her away?

Dawn moved another step closer, her palms sticky with nervousness. She wiped them on her skirt and bent to retrieve her bag. Her heart beat hard in her chest. Another step and she knew he would be able to hear the internal hammering through the thick door, would pick up on her scent. Would he remember it from over a year ago, between death and resurrection? Could he identify the rhythm of her blood, the susurration through arteries and veins? One more step and she would have to knock or else the choice will have been made for her. With one more deep breath, her knuckles met the door. Her breath, her blood was no longer under her control. She could hear his booted footsteps grow closer, could hear the moment that her invisible sound and smell reached his senses, the rushing steps and the bolts thrown back in rapid succession. And then—

The door opened to a sea of watery blue.

“Spike…”
***
Dawn’s plans of coolly…nonchalantly…seductively greeting Spike suddenly went out the window (as if the vampire actually had a window in his basement apartment, anyway). When she caught sight of the vampire she hadn’t seen in over a year (except for the image she caught of him bleeding and battered through the Wiccas’ portal), Dawn launched herself into Spike’s embrace, clinging to him with arms and legs, clutching the vampire as though he might dust from underneath if she were to let go. Instead of the smart quips, stinging recriminations, or husky double entendres she had practiced in her head on the long flights she had just endured, all that could escape her throat were sobs—great, gut wrenching, shuddering sobs that nearly broke the stunned vampire who held her.

Overcome with happiness at having Dawn in his arms, Spike’s tears rolled silently down his cheeks, punctuated with unnecessary, shuddering breaths. Coupled with the ecstatic joy of Dawn’s return and the fervor with which she held onto him, this reminder of his old life caused the weight of all he had lost in the last few years to drop like a lead weight into his gut—Dru, Joyce, Buffy, Tara…torture and madness at his own hand and others. His ill-fated affair with Buffy, Dawn’s rejection, the deaths of Anya and so many of the Potentials—all those tragedies merely preceded his own fiery end, his ghostly return, and finally the loss of Fred, Wes, and Gunn—all those mortals who could not withstand the onslaught of demons any longer. But here she was—his Nibblet, his Dawn—embracing him so tightly that Spike considered he would be in dire straits if he actually had to breathe. In that moment, Dawn’s warmth, her scent, her thudding heartbeat filled Spike’s keen senses fully, allowing all those painful things to once again retreat from whence they came.

They stood there for long minutes until Spike registered that Dawn’s hip was digging into the gash he received from a Polgara demon who, in Spike’s estimation, just got lucky because of Spike’s distraction from the other countless demons he was battling during the big showdown. Of course the skewered wound to his midsection was enough to draw Spike back to the nasty blighter who soon met the deadly blade of Spike’s sword.

Spike gently scooted Dawn’s bag out of the doorway where she had dropped it upon entering the apartment, closed and locked the door behind them, still conscious of any lingering demons on the street who might be looking for revenge. Spike backed up to the worn but cozy recliner in his rather Spartan living room, and holding Dawn snugly to his body, eased them down into the chair, conscious as he was to avoid jostling the emotional girl any more than necessary. Dawn’s tears had fairly soaked the right shoulder of Spike’s tee-shirt as she buried her face against his pale neck.

Dawn felt Spike wince as he eased them both into the cushioned chair—her weight still firmly centered against his middle.

“Ohmygod!—I forgot—your side…,” Dawn shifted back against Spike’s lap, looking around for another chair in the small apartment as her hands went to the padded armrests, preparing to push herself off.

Smiling, Spike tightened his hold against the lithe beauty in his arms, “Huh-uh,” Spike resisted with a grin, “You’re not going anywhere, Nibblet.” Spike nuzzled into the crook between Dawn’s neck and shoulder, relishing in her scent, her warmth, the slight weight of her body keeping him pinned to the world for the moment. “Just had to sit down for a minute—that’s all, my sweet girl. You aren’t hurting me at all,” Spike stroked his hand through the length of Dawn’s chestnut-colored locks, to try and soothe them both.

When another congested sniffle sounded over the litany of Spike’s reassurances, he pulled back to study Dawn’s face, streaked now with rivulets of watery black, Dawn’s attempt at glamorous seduction reduced to a raccoon-eyed waste.

“Ah, what’s all this…?” Spike tenderly admonished, swiping at a running tear on Dawn’s face with his fingers. At her small, embarrassed smile, Spike looked around fruitlessly for a tissue or napkin, but finding neither, he stripped off the tear-stained black tee from his body and wiped delicately around Dawn’s eyes and down her flushed cheeks.

“Whad’ya want with all that silly make up anyway?” Spike cooed as he tidied Dawn’s face. “You’re beautiful without all that nonsense,” Spike smiled as he regarded Dawn, coaxing something between a pout and a grin from her lips.

“Be grateful *you* weren’t wearing eyeliner today,” Dawn snarked in good-natured retaliation as she took up the cotton tee and wiped away the tears from Spike’s cheeks as well.

“Touché,” Spike conceded, well-aware of the punk look he sported many years ago. He again drew Dawn’s body to his own, gratified even further to feel her soft cheek against his shoulder, her long fingers stroking gently across his back, her….’Cor,’ Spike thought as he glanced down to see the plaid skirt of Dawn’s school uniform bunched at her flat belly, ‘She’s scorchin’ me through those little cotton panties…and her scent…’—the young girl scent he recalled from the years when Dawn started thinking about boys, and her crush on him was evident at a blush. That scent had now ripened and bloomed, along with the rounded breasts now crushed against his chest and the beautiful curved bottom that rested on his thighs. Spike tried to shake off the thoughts that disturbed and threatened to embarrass him. The vampire prayed to will away the arousal that was sure to follow if he was unable to block out the Siren’s call that was Dawn Summers.

With light kisses to Dawn’s forehead, Spike reminded himself that this was the Slayer’s little sis—and that nothing good could come from those thoughts except a quick stake through the heart. Thankfully, Spike was broken out of his reverie by a sudden smack to the chest.

“And how could you not tell me you were alive?” Dawn demanded in just anger, remembering her hurt from just a couple of months before when she found out from a begrudging sister that Spike had apparently returned.

Spike groaned internally, knowing that the question would come—he had certainly already heard the same question from her sister’s lips.

“I wanted to…at first…but I couldn’t—wasn’t solid, you know….”

Dawn nodded at his recitation, urging him onward to see if his explanation was anywhere near sufficient.

“After that…wasn’t so sure how big sis would take it…”

Dawn studied the vampire, pain etched on her face at the mention of Spike’s attachment to Buffy.

“Peaches and I went to Rome…looked her up…she’d hooked up with that wanker, the Immortal…Andrew said she’d moved on, so I let it go, you know. When Fred got in a bad way, we tried callin’ Giles, but the ol’ sot wouldn’t be bothered—figured Angel had gone and got himself turned evil again,” Spike shook his head slightly to push way the unhappy memory.

“After that, that Ilona bird spilled the beans to Buffy—just couldn’t resist tellin’ her where to find a nice leather jacket to replace the one some Skench demon snott’d on—and how ‘Spike had just * laahhved* the coat she’d bought him there,’” Spike sighed with regret.

“So needless to say the Slayer was less than pleased to find all this out second-hand. Calls me up—pissed off o’ course—wonderin’ why I didn’t have the balls to let her know I was back, and why I wouldn’t believe what she’d said to me before I--I…,” Spike blinked away the sting of tears as Dawn’s hand unconsciously traced at the scars on Spike’s palm.

“Anyway, I got all defensive—started raggin’ her ‘bout that Immortal git—how he was always lappin’ up my sloppy seconds,” Spike grimaced as he recalled his tactless words. “And she said, ‘don’t you mean Angel’s *sloppy thirds*?!’ and that was the last conversation your big sis and I had,” Spike blew out a sigh at how even after the tenderness of those last days…the forgiveness…the sacrifices—it was so easy to fall back into those old habits with Buffy—insults and recrimination instead of happiness and gratitude.

“But what about *me*?” Dawn’s voice rose and thinned in the sob that was about to overcome her. “*I* needed you too,” her blue eyes filled with tears once again as her mouth trembled.

“I’m sorry, Bit, so sorry, baby,” Spike’s lips rained down kisses on Dawn’s hair, holding her tightly to his chest.

“And then—and then—,” she stammered, as she recalled his next slight, “Before I can even make it back here, you let stupid Angel sign you up for the *next* apocalypse,” Dawn pouted swatting at his chest once again in righteous anger.

“Hey,” Spike’s voice softened as he raised Dawn’s chin with his forefinger, “You saved me that time, dind’t ya?” their eyes met softly as Spike raised Dawn’s palm to his lips, closed his eyes and kissed the small pink scar.

“It really wasn’t me,” Dawn shook her head and discounted the compliment, “just my blood,” she shrugged.

“Bollocks! S’not what I heard from Red. Said they had to hold you back from comin’ through yourself. Would’a been rainin’ Niblet down on me,” Spike smiled warmly a he tucked a stray lock behind Dawn’s ear.

Dawn sniffed and smiled, “If you’d dusted…I couldn’t have told how sorry I was for what I’d said…how mean I was to you that night…,” a fresh round of tears threatened to form which were immediately quelled by Spike’s solid body and gentle touch.

“S’forgotten, Bit…nothin’ to be sorry for…shh….” He stroked a steady line down Dawn’s back.

Dawn’s regretful whimper was interrupted by a growling in her stomach.

Spike chuckled at the noisy rumbling, “Babygirl needs some food, yeah?” Unconsciously the back of Spike’s fingers rubbed gently at the small strip of skin peeking out from between the hem of Dawn’s knotted blouse and the turned-down waistband of her skirt. Spike’s eyebrow rose as he noticed the alteration to her uniform, but stowed away his query for later. “Got some Wheetabix in the kitchen cabinet,” he teased.

He laughed at Dawn’s predictable retch and patted her bare thigh. “Hop up and lemme see what I got on hand.”

“Mm-k, just gotta run to the bathroom,” Dawn bounced off the chair backward and headed in the direction indicated by the nod of Spike’s head.

Spike pushed himself up, trying to will his stiff legs to move once again as he made his way to the kitchen, popping a packet of blood in the microwave for himself and finding a frozen pepperoni pizza for Dawn. Turning on the rarely-used oven, Spike unboxed the pie and slid it onto the oven rack. After pouring out the blood into his favorite mug and drinking enough to restore his energy, Spike retrieved a beer from the fridge, unscrewing the cap and tossing it onto the counter. He found an unopened bag of spicy Doritos at the back of the cabinet and set them on the counter to tie Dawn over till the pizza was ready.

At the sound of the flush and running water (which reminded Spike to pick up more toilet paper when he went to the store) Dawn returned to the kitchen, taking a seat at the bar and opening the bag of chips.

“Pizza should be ready in about 20 minutes,” Spike reported as he searched for clean plates.

“Mm-k,” Dawn munched, “Wow, these are hot,” she panted after the peppery kick warmed her mouth. Leaning across the counter, Dawn reached for Spike’s beer, taking a long, cooling swig from the bottle.

“Watch it there, missy!” Spike admonished as though no time had passed between them.

“Spike, I’m eighteen, you know…,” Dawn groaned.

“Yeah, and in the state of California, you’re s’posed to be 21 before you drink that,” Spike lectured.

“And I’ve been living in Italy for over a year where I’ve been perfectly legal . They even let you drink in church, you know, it’s like a requirement or something,” Dawn responded, nonplussed.

“Fine,” Spike gave in with a raised eyebrow, retrieving another beer for himself from the refrigerator. “Italy, huh? Red said you were at Assisi? Anything there besides statuary?” Spike asked, trying to discern how Dawn had wound up in the tiny Italian town.

“Not really, started out in Rome—seems that the monsignor and I didn’t exactly see eye to eye when it came to demons. He said ‘All demons were evil, soulless creatures’ and I said, ‘Huh-uh, that I knew of two personally who had souls…,’”

“Some of us had to work for it,” grumbled Spike under his breath.

“’One of whom had saved the world from an apocalypse, in fact,’” Dawn continued with sincere vehemence, “’and that I knew plenty of demons who didn’t do anything worse than play a little kitten poker on the weekends,’” Dawn defended. “I went on to say that my sister fought thousands of evil demons and vamps, and had even sacrificed herself to keep a hell god from taking over the world, even though she was later resurrected. I told him she said heaven was very peaceful and was pretty pissed when her friends yanked her back,” Dawn curled into herself as she sat on the barstool, a little guilt pinching at her face.

“Monsignor Silvestri thought I would be better suited for their school in Assisi, where the ‘less hectic pace might give me time for more thoughtful reflection,’” Dawn smirked at Spike’s chuckle.

“Appreciate the good word to the higher ups,” Spike smiled at her defense of his contribution, none of which was apparently appreciated by the Monsignor.

“You’re welcome,” replied Dawn primly, trying to hold in her wicked smile. “So anyway, end of the world, part eight, arrives, and my poor, sheltered roommate comes back to our room to find chanting witches, a pentagram drawn in sheep’s blood, ritual knife in my hand—you know, the usual,” Dawn shrugged.

Dawn smiled as Spike had to wipe away tears from laughing so hard.

“So the sisters fast-tracked my coursework—lots of independent study—less of a negative influence on the other students, of course—plus I was assigned an extra month of animal waste disposal at the local shelter—a little penance I suppose for holding an unauthorized Wiccan spell-casting in my dorm room.”

“So, I packed all my earthly belongings in my knapsack, left a message for my sister who was incommunicado somewhere in the Caucasus, sorted out my diploma, transcript, and passport, said goodbye to the two people who would still speak to me in the entire school, bought my tickets, and here I am,” Dawn flipped up her palms and shrugged innocently, having entertained Spike with her exploits of the last year. “Planning to check out some colleges in the next few days,” Dawn took a long swig of beer to hide her certain mortification if Spike figured out her true motivation for showing up on his doorstep earlier that day.

Spike turned his attention to the buzz of the oven timer, pulling the piping hot pizza from the rack and slicing it up for his guest. Spike joined Dawn for a piece of pizza as was his tendency to hang on to certain human traits, unlike the other souled vamp in existence. Dawn was reaching for her third slice when Spike’s cell rumbled against the bar.

Dawn paid little mind until Spike’s one-word greeting—

“Slayer.”

“Spike,” Buffy answered just as evenly.

Spike’s next words were stalled as Dawn frantically waved to get his attention, mouthing the word “No!” and frantically shaking her head. Spike’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion and concern though he coolly returned to his phone conversation.

“What can I do for you, Buffy?” his tone softened a little in his inquiry.

“I just received a message Dawn left with Andrew saying she was flying to the U.S. to check out colleges.”

“A bit vague, that,” Spike replied with a glimmer of accusation in his eyes as he glanced at Dawn who held her head in her propped up hands.

“I had Willow do a locator spell and it seems that she was heading your way. I mean Southern California—it’s either you or Angel, so I’d say all bets are on you.”

“I’ve got to agree with you there.”

Buffy exhaled heavily across the distant connection, “I mean—she’s graduated, she’s eighteen, she’s pissed at me for sending her to convent school for the last year,” Buffy groaned, “You know—thought it’d be safer and everything—all that hallowed ground and all.”

“Makes sense.”

“I know she wants to go back to the States for college, and she has the money to pay for it,” Buffy sighed in understanding over her sister’s departure. “She made great grades, even though she pissed off the Monsignor, he couldn’t fault her coursework. Wish I’d had *her* scores when I left high school,” Buffy mused. “I guess sometimes it does pay to be a thousand-year-old mystical being.”

Spike chuckled lightly at Buffy’s observation.

Buffy knew, without Spike uttering a word, that Dawn was there with him. If she asked, point-blank, he could deny it all he wanted to, but Spike had always been a lousy liar. His lack of reaction was what gave him away—normally, if Buffy said that Dawn was missing, Spike would have called everyone from the National Guard to the CIA, and every demon contact he had in between. His composure, his control revealed everything to Buffy—Dawn was at his place, and she didn’t want Buffy to know. Buffy also knew that Spike would not betray Dawn, even if Buffy begged him to.

Spike’s astute hearing picked up the soft, resigned sigh in Buffy’s voice—she now knew exactly where Dawn was.

“Um, Spike, when she gets there, please tell her to be careful—I know there must still be a few stray demons who hung around even after Willow opened the portal, and if they find out she’s my sister, or that she’s the Key…,” Buffy voice was thick now with emotion.

“I promise—won’t let her go anywhere alone. You’re right—s’ not exactly safe just yet. Keepin’ m’ doors locked up tight and all,” Spike tried to reassure. He breathed a heavy sigh, “So when might we be x’pectin’ ya?”

“Well, that’s the thing—I can’t exactly leave the country right now.”

“Wha’s up? Got the pox or somethin’?” Spike snarked lightly.

“I’ve applied for my Italian citizenship—can’t leave for six months,” Buffy breathed deeply before her next revelation, “I’m getting married, Spike,” Buffy’s voice tightened at the strain of delivering her news. “He was called as a watcher six months ago. Giancarlo’s his name,” she continued lamely. “I volunteered to help train him, started spending lots of time together…..”

“Does he make you happy, Buffy?” Spike questioned.

“Yeah…,” Buffy replied softly, “And when he gets pissed, he swears at me in Italian, so I have no clue what he’s saying,” Buffy laughed with Spike chuckling in response.

“Well, congratulations on your engagement, Buffy—hope it all works out for you,” Spike replied with graciousness.

“Thanks,” Buffy accepted.

“Buffy,…before you go…I’m sorry ‘bout what I said before,” Spike exhaled deeply at the apology.

“Me, too,” Buffy agreed with understanding. “Spike,” Buffy’s voice tightened at her request. “Please take care of Dawn…ok?”

“What’d I tell you before, Slayer?”

“That you’d kill me on Saturday?” Buffy replied with a smile.

“That I’d always look out for the Bit. I’ll always take care of her, Buffy—count on it.”

“Thanks, Spike. Have her call me when she gets a chance,” Buffy’s voice broke a little.

“Will do. Take care of yourself, Buffy.”

“You, too, Spike.”

Spike closed his phone and set it carefully on the bar before taking a breath and turning toward Dawn who had stopped eating once Buffy’s name was spoken into the air.

Dawn Summers’ blue eyes looked up expectantly to meet Spike’s, her breath just as still as his own.

“So, Dawn,”

The young beauty sucked in a trembling breath at Spike’s rare use of her given name.

“You gonna’ tell me what you’re really doin’ here?”

Dawn’s eyes darted around the room, as if looking for an escape route. She thought about lamely insisting that the trip was solely devoted to visiting colleges, but then feared that the evasion would only further anger the impatient vampire.

Dusting her hands on her despised plaid skirt, Dawn rose from the counter. Spike watched closely for a sign that the agitated schoolgirl was about to break and run, but instead, her blue eyes fixed on the empty space in front of her, and she began to wear a path in the carpet as she searched for an answer to his question.

Dawn’s chance at catching Spike off-guard, at seducing him before his recollections of her little-girl persona came rushing back, was now gone—first by her own emotional outburst and later by her sister’s ill-timed call, reminiscent of all those times Spike had been called on to search for the errant adolescent or babysit the mystical being trapped in the awkward body of a fourteen-year-old. After several minutes of pacing, wherein, Dawn’s internal debate was apparent on her face, Spike had to school the grin that was forming at the corners of his mouth, as he saw himself in the agitated pacing of his young friend.

When the need to track Dawn’s movements ceased, and she turned to face him, Spike searched Dawn’s face expectantly, hoping that she would truthfully explain the motivation behind her sudden appearance at his doorstep.

Dawn straightened her shoulders though meeting Spike’s gaze still proved difficult. She blew out the trapped breath she had been holding to let fresh air rush to her lungs and give voice to her revelation. Spike’s stomach tightened at the look of resignation on her face.

Dawn finally decided that the truth would be best at this point, even if it meant Spike would send her away, repulsed by what she was about to suggest.

“The truth—the truth is…,” she stammered, “Is that I’m eighteen and still a virgin…,” a rush of blood colored Dawn’s cheeks at the admission, her voice strained at the confession, “but I don’t want to be….”
***


Spike could feel the Slayer’s kick to his gut as if she were right there and not thousands of miles away in Italy. (‘But then, of course, stranger things have happened,’ Spike wryly thought.) If the vampire’s face could’ve blanched any whiter, it easily would have done so, as the shock of Dawn’s request echoed in Spike’s ears. The unannounced visit, revealing clothes, dark make-up—all those incongruous pieces slid into place as Spike’s open mouth brought forth no audible words.

Dawn quickly interpreted Spike’s silence as a refusal, and tears of regret started to well in her eyes as she scanned the room for the location of the knapsack that Spike had earlier scooted inside the doorway.

“I’m sorry, I know I sound absolutely pathetic,” Dawn’s sobs again began to choke out her words, “So stupid…can’t believe I thought you’d actually…,” Dawn swiped at the tears, blinding her attempt to locate her scant belongings and exit the apartment with some sliver of dignity still intact. Finally locating the leather satchel, she bent to hoist it to her shoulder, but a flash of vampire and a strong hand releasing her fingers from the strap stayed her movements.

“You’re not going anywhere but to bed pretty soon,” Spike replied as he took Dawn’s hands in his own, a hint of authority in his voice.

Dawn’s tearful, puzzled expression sought a further explanation.

“To rest,” Spike explained flatly, “You’ve travelled thousands of miles, all on your own, only a soddin’ frozen pizza to eat,” Spike’s guilt at having bollixed up Dawn’s return was rising to the surface.

Even in what she perceived as her disgrace, Dawn persisted, “I meant what I said, Spike. I’ve thought about this a lot.” Though she felt the vampire would never consent to her request, Dawn still wanted Spike to know that her plans to lose her virginity were not brought on by a long journey or emotional reunion. Hunger? Well, maybe yes, but not one sated with a crummy frozen pizza.

Spike recognized that look of impending rejection—he had worn it many times himself over the years—with Cecily, Dru, Buffy… he understood only too well the pain that accompanied offering yourself up to someone, only to have those feelings thrown back in your face, and generally stomped into tiny pieces as the assailant saw fit.

Though Buffy would always hold a place in Spike’s heart, he had made peace with the choices that each of them had made. The Council’s prejudices had been so well-ingrained in the young slayer that she could never quite accept Spike as he was—always needing him to be something different, something outside his nature, until at last, all he had left to give was his very unlife.

Dawn, however, was different from her sister. Even when she was younger, Dawn wholeheartedly accepted Spike—listening with rapt attention as he retold the most horrific tales, not minding that he smoke, drank or swore, eagerly clinging to him when she jumped on the back of his motorcycle—Dawn was never disingenuous when it came to Spike. And though she was quick to rush to her sister’s defense, even Buffy finally admitted her fault in the events that would lead to Spike seeking the restoration of his soul.

Spike studied Dawn’s face as his thumbs brushed away her tears, and while, yes, the lively, energetic, even sometimes petulant young girl still lingered there, he also saw the weariness of battle, the defiance against prejudiced authority, and the loneliness of losing family and friends. How long had it been since she had been held, comforted, cared for? Months? A year? Spike knew that before anything else might happen between them, Dawn needed to be held, to be listened to, to be wanted. With uncharacteristic patience, Spike responded to Dawn’s request.

“I know you’ve thought about it,” Spike said softly, lifting Dawn’s chin with one hand as he smoothed her hair with the other. “I’m not telling you ‘no,’” Spike breathed out softly, a hopeful sparkle returning to Dawn’s glistening eyes, “But I’m also not going to jump into bed with you right away, either,” he explained, his arms wrapping around Dawn’s trembling form.

At Spike’s stalemate, the hint of a childish pout formed on Dawn’s lips.

“I’m gonna’ get it,” Spike teased softly, his blunt teeth lightly toying with the protruding flesh until a genuine smile came to Dawn’s face, her eyes washed of the grief that had troubled her. Spike’s cool lips brushed tenderly against Dawn’s.

“That’s my girl,” Spike sighed as the corners of Dawn’s mouth rose and her eyes would once again meet his own. “Come here,” Spike led Dawn by the hand to his couch. He lay down, his blond head contrasting sharply against the black arm of the sofa, pulling Dawn down to join him, her head resting on his bare chest.

“Here,” Spike wriggled a bit to snake his hands in between their bodies, deftly untying the knot in Dawn’s blouse and unfastening two buttons at the bottom.

Wondering if Spike had so quickly changed his mind, Dawn gave him a questioning look.

“Just gonna’ rub your back a bit—wound up tighter than Peaches with a Playboy, you are,” Spike explained off-handedly at Dawn’s groaning laugh and tacit permission. Spike reached behind to unfasten the wide, scratchy contraption of hooks and eyes at Dawn’s back.

“Jeez, it’s like some medieval torture device,” Spike complained at the harsh snap of the unforgiving elastic and rough fabric, “Not that I was around that far back, mind you, but Angelus did keep a few family heirlooms around, just for fun.”

Dawn giggled as she rose a bit to slip her arms out of the loosened straps and with a sigh of relief, pulled the hateful, binding garment away from underneath her blouse. “There,” she chucked the awful ‘nunderwear’ as she called it, onto the floor, swearing to never don the despised brassiere again.

Once her nipples hit the cool air, they hardened and puckered underneath her white cotton blouse that remained attached by the single button between her breasts. Adjusting the fabric so it wouldn’t be trapped beneath her, Dawn lay back down, Spike’s cool skin soothing her over-heated frame.

“I’m thinking a trip to the mall is on the agenda for tomorrow,” chuckled Spike, his hands slipping beneath the back of Dawn’s blouse to draw soothing strokes against her weary flesh.

“That sounds like a plan,” Dawn concurred. “Tomorrow night, then?” she queried.

“Whenever you want, Nibblet,” Spike offered, a befuddled Dawn looking up for an explanation.

“S’ long as there’s an attached parking garage, we’re good to go,” Spike continued, then figured he needed to confess the only *slightly* criminal part of the story.

“Before the big showdown with the senior partners and all their goons,” Spike recounted with a guilty sigh, “I may have had the foresight to procure some of the more *valuable*automobiles from the Wolfram and Hart garage, and seeing as the whole place came down in a soddin’ heap anyway,” Spike rationalized, “I thought I might hang onto one, sell the others when I needed a bit of dosh. Vamp-safe glass comes in pretty handy here in Southern California and all,” Spike waggled his eyebrows as Dawn grinned.

“Sounds like a perfectly reasonable plan to me,” Dawn agreed, settling back down again, eager for Spike’s hands to return to their task.
“So what schools are you planning to check into?” Spike led into gently, taking a rather roundabout route back to their earlier discussion. Spike’s hands gently glided against Dawn’s skin, hoping to soothe as she continued with her difficult explanation.

“UCLA, USC, maybe Loyola…not really sure just yet,” Dawn listed, squirming a bit as she nestled in a little further, the remaining button of her blouse popping open at the movement. Though Dawn did not make mention of the welcomed accident, she dotted a small kiss against Spike’s cool chest as she reveled in the extra contact.

Not wanting to break the mood, but needing to learn why Dawn had chosen to come to him, Spike continued in the same smooth, honeyed voice, the movement of his hands nearly hypnotic against Dawn’s back.

“So why not wait to meet some nice, normal bloke at one of these schools, Bit? Bumble along…figure it out together?” Spike inquired, though it pained him to do so. “Not that anyone would ever be good enough for my Nibblet, mind you,” he added, mumbling under his breath.

Dawn turned her head to plant a firm kiss in the middle of Spike’s chest in response.

“Well, there is the fact that I am a thousand-year-old mystical Key—a green, bouncing ball of energy that was shoved into the body of a flat-chested fourteen-year-old, complete with totally fabricated childhood memories,” Dawn retorted with a wry smile, raising up to meet Spike’s gaze, her forearms stretched across his chest.

Spike’s eyebrow arched and a sardonic smile crossed his lips as Dawn’s shift in position pushed her blouse to each side, her nipples now thrusting their dimpled flesh against Spike’s chest. The full roundness of her breasts swelled into view now that Dawn’s blouse had slipped away. Trying to maintain his composure, even though his jeans were growing increasingly tight, Spike attempted to stay on topic.

“Bit, thought we settled this a long time ago—course you’re a real girl—seen you cry, seen you break, seen you bleed,” Spike drew long strands of hair behind Dawn’s ear, his words filled with tenderness. He just couldn’t help himself when a small smile crossed his face.

“And the flat-chested thing--not so much to worry about any more,” Spike teased, his forefinger tracing gently along the outer edge of her breast, eliciting a pleased smile from Dawn. Sheepishly, Spike added, “Personally, m’ kinda glad that your earliest memories of me aren’t exactly real,” the vampire grimaced, “not too proud that your mum had to whack me with an axe and all that.” His face bore the resemblance of a young boy who had trod mud all over the kitchen floor or broken a favorite vase with an errant baseball.

Exhaling a small, exasperated sigh, Dawn explained, “I know I’m real,” Dawn traced random paths against Spike’s skin as she continued, “But, how can I possibly explain my history, my childhood to someone new? I mean, what kind of person would actually believe me?” Dawn scoffed in self-deprecation.

“You don’t have to tell all your secrets, you know,” Spike suggested.

“And then whatever we had would be based on a lie,” Dawn insisted, her hands curling into fists.

“What if I did get married, had kids…and some evil hell god shows up again looking for the Key? What then?” Dawn’s exasperation with her potential fate threatened to get the better of her once again.

“Ok…shh, sweetheart…I understand…,” Spike soothed, his hands increasing his efforts on her taut back.

“I tried to date back in high school—had to stake the first guy I kissed,” Dawn reminded wryly, “Was nearly suicidal over the next one cause of some stupid spell—then had to end up fighting over him with my sister,” she smacked her forehead against Spike’s chest and rolled it back and forth at the unpleasant memory.

Spike looked on with sympathetic humor as he stroked Dawn’s hair.

“Then, of course, between the monks and the nuns, no one seemed particularly interested in my sexual development,” Dawn groaned, face-down in Spike’s chest.

Spike had to fight the urge to laugh at Dawn’s antics.

Clearing his throat to disguise a chuckle, Spike suggested, “Maybe one of the younger Watchers then?”

“Mmm…yeah, that’s what my sister thought, too. Wanna’ take a wild guess at who she suggested?” Dawn’s voice dripped with sarcasm and knowing suggestion.

“Oh, she didn’t…,” Spike responded with incredulity tempered with the knowledge that his ex-girlfriend totally lacked any sense of gay-dar.

“Mr. Tales of the Vampyre himself,” Dawn nodded in grudging acceptance of her sister’s limitations and lack of judgment.

Their shared laughter died into a sigh of understanding.

“I was never exactly destined for normal, Spike,” Dawn said softly, her blue eyes seeking his.

“I know,” Spike nodded, raking Dawn’s long, dark hair down her back, knowing that between her long journey and emotional evening, it was time to start winding things down. “How about…you borrow one of my tee shirts, grab you a nice, hot shower, I’ll find myself some sweatpants to sleep in, and we’ll watch a little Letterman in the bedroom?”

“Sounds very nice,” Dawn beamed.

“But first things first, though,” Spike hinted with a mischievous gleam in his eye, and with vampiric speed, he flipped them over, his weight pressed deliciously against Dawn’s frame. Eyes alight with happiness, Spike surprised Dawn as his lips crashed down onto hers. His tongue slipped between Dawn’s lips, tasting, exploring, promising Dawn that her hopes had not been cast in vain.

Flushing and breathless, Dawn was finally forced to break the kiss as her lungs burned for oxygen. Her wide smile was a priceless sight for the vampire who had seen more pain than he cared to count.

The vampire’s bright blue eyes twinkled as he simply said, “Welcome home.”
****
The hot shower was a welcome relief after the long hours of traveling Dawn endured over the last several days. Fortunately, Spike had showered just before she arrived, so Dawn could hog the hot water till it ran cold. She had searched through the bathroom cabinets until she found one of Spike’s rarely-used razors and put it to very thorough use in the shower. Dawn figured washing her hair would need to wait until she bought a hair dryer the following day and piled her long hair atop her head in a messy bun, securing it with an elastic from her bag. Sufficiently clean and stubble-free, Dawn shut off the water and reached for the drying towel that hung from the bar on the sliding door, smiling as she dried her face and noticed that the towel still smelled like Spike.

Swiping at the steam-covered mirror with her palm, Dawn made certain that her face was clean of mascara and eyeliner, though she was fairly certain she had cried most of it off as soon as Spike opened the door late that afternoon. She dug in the corners of her eyes for the stubborn black remnants that refused to wash away, then wrapped the towel around herself and sifted through her small toiletries bag until she found her toothbrush and toothpaste.

After washing out her sole pair of panties in the bathroom sink and hanging them on the shower door to dry, Dawn tugged Spike’s tee shirt down to her thighs. She momentarily regretted having thrown yesterday’s pair in the trash while making use of the cramped airplane lavatory, fearing that her carryon would reek of dirty undies. Dawn had visions of some customs agent fishing out her used, white, cotton briefs with a pencil.

Dawn retrieved her dirty clothes from the floor, grimacing at the fact she would have to put them on again tomorrow when she lay them on top of her knapsack. Pulling the elastic from her hair and tossing it on the counter, Dawn turned off the bathroom light and made her way toward Spike’s bed, the room illuminated by the glow of the small television and David Letterman cutting to commercial.

Spike flipped back a corner of the covers for Dawn to join him, reaching for the remote’s mute button to dispense with the annoying commercial. Dawn snuggled into the vampire as he settled back onto the pillows. Spike grinned as he wrapped his arms around Dawn and held her closely. Her heated body was fiery against Spike’s cool frame.

Smiling like a kid at Christmas, Spike closed his eyes and breathed deeply as the young beauty rested her head against his strong, pale chest, her hand toying with the curls at his neck while her bare thigh draped across his clothed one. Spike’s hand unconsciously resumed his earlier soothing strokes against Dawn’s back.

“Mmm...you’re all warm…and snuggly…,” Spike reveled as he pulled Dawn tightly to him and kissed the top of her head, his hands continuing on their soothing path until Spike’s hand met the bottom of his tee shirt, stopping short as his eyes flew open in shock, “and apparently not wearing any panties.” The vampire’s voice took on a warning edge as he quirked his eyebrow and looked down at Dawn’s impish expression.

Batting her eyelashes with feigned innocence, Dawn explained, “Well, I just had the one pair, so I’m either panty-less tonight or tomorrow at the mall,” she sing-songed in explanation.

Following a slight warning growl from Spike’s chest and a playful smack to her bare bottom, the vampire conceded, “Fine,” he sighed, “I guess better here than out in public for any wanker to see.”

Dawn grinned against Spike’s chest as his cool fingers soothed the teasing tap he had delivered before his hand rose to rest at the small of her back. Though Dawn knew she shouldn’t try to coerce Spike into making love to her, she couldn’t help but clench her legs a little against Spike’s sweatpant-covered thigh, trying to soothe the ache that was building in her core.

“Dawn…,” Spike drawled in a soft warning, a bit afraid that his resistance could only hold out so long with her grinding against his thigh. He rolled onto his side to face her though he never broke their embrace.

With guilty but hopeful eyes, Dawn whispered her rhetorical question, “If you’re not saying ‘no,’ then doesn’t that mean you’re saying ‘yes?’”

Spike closed his eyes for a moment in regretful, patient frustration, “Sweetheart,…I don’t want to rush this. S’ too important, innit’ it?” he soothed softly as he traced a finger along the edge of Dawn’s face. “Lots of things to learn along the way, you know,” Spike softly suggested.

“Do you remember your first time? Were you already a vampire?” Dawn asked, biting her lip at the inquiry.

Spike sighed as he rolled back onto his back, though he brought Dawn back to lay against him as she had earlier done. He reached for the remote without looking and turned off the silent tv before continuing with their discussion.

“’Hadn’t even kissed a girl ‘fore I met Dru. So, yeah, I’d already been turned. Course Dru had learned everything she knew from Angelus,” Spike recalled grimly, unwilling to relate all the particulars of his early sexual experiences to Dawn, “So…first time…not so much with the hearts and flowers, luv.” Spike thought a bit sadly back to the days when he longed for Dru’s devotion, though he often played second fiddle to his grandsire. Though Spike had little desire to recount those early days, he hoped to make Dawn see his reasons for trying to take things a bit slowly.

“I understand,” Dawn countered, “Really, I do…but I’m eighteen, not a little kid anymore,” Dawn insisted, her frustration rising to the surface. “I swear, I’m ready,” Dawn pled gently, again pressing herself against the vampire’s body in response to his restraint.

Spike groaned audibly as Dawn’s damp heat soaked through the thick fabric and the scent of her arousal filled his senses. Spike had to fight both the man and demon to keep from pounding Dawn into the mattress right then and there. He searched the ceiling and ran his hand through his hair while trying to convince Dawn of his position.

“OK…,” Spike hedged, uncertain if he really wanted an answer to the question he was about to ask, “What, exactly, has your sexual experience been, so far?”

“What?” Dawn asked, propping herself on an elbow to face Spike.

“How far have you gone before, Nibblet?” Spike stumbled over his words. “Bases, if you will,” he conceded exasperatedly, the vampire having difficulty shucking off his former role as protector to the brunette now in his bed.

“Oh…,” Dawn considered, “Just kissing, I guess,” Dawn shrugged before considering that embellishing her stories may hasten Spike’s plan.

“No sneaky hands copping a feel in the movies?”

“Nope,” Dawn shook her head.

“You mean that vamp didn’t try anything? The jock?” Spike asked in disbelief.

“Let’s see,” Dawn responded sardonically, “Between, you, my sister, and the rest of the Scoobies, do you really think anyone would ever dare to try anything?”

“Fair enough,” Spike conceded, trying to hide his pleased grin. “A little girl-on-girl action? Curious fingers sneaking into your panties?”

“Not even my own,” Dawn confessed with a frustrated huff.

“What! You’re havin’ a laugh!” Spike insisted in genuine surprise.

“Huh-uh,” Dawn insisted. “Think about it—just about the time I would’ve started to think about sex, I found out I was a mystical being with phony memories, Mom gets sick, then she dies, I’m nearly killed by a hell-god,” Dawn continued the litany of events that served to preclude the luxury of adolescent fantasies, “Buffy dies, then she comes back from the dead,” Dawn opted to skip over the details of Spike and Buffy’s relationship that served to stunt her own notions of healthy sexual relationships, “Certainly no privacy to be had once the Potentials arrived, one apocalypse after the other, and finally convent school—a place not exactly conducive to the whole masturbation experience,” Dawn cynically noted as she listed all the difficulties, both personal and logistical that stood in the way of achieving one of those orgasms Anya always spoke so highly of.

Spike nodded silently as he took in Dawn’s frustrated ranting. “So what do you know?”

“I’ve seen the ancient line drawings in my biology textbooks—the same ones with all the interesting words blacked out in permanent marker by the nuns,” Dawn insisted disparagingly.

“Your sister’s lack of judgment is just extraordinary, at times,” Spike groaned over Dawn’s archaic educational experience. Spike closed his eyes in resignation, knowing that his self-control was thin at best, but tonight was being pushed to its absolute limit. Taking a deep breath, Spike made a decision, sitting up against the bed pillows as he pulled Dawn toward him.

“Come here, pet,” Spike slid Dawn over his thigh to lean back against his chest as she nestled her bare bottom between his legs.

Over her shoulder, Dawn looked at Spike quizzically but complied with his request, smiling at the tell-tale hardness poking at her backside.

“Warm enough?” Spike questioned, his voice suddenly low and soft in her ear.

Dawn nodded and then gasped a little when the vampire reached for the hem of her borrowed tee shirt. With deft but gentle movements, Spike gathered the soft fabric in his hands, helping Dawn remove the sole garment she had worn to bed.

Dawn’s nipples pebbled in the cool, night air, and she smiled at the vampire’s low groan at the sight. Her breathing quickened in expectation of his touch but was surprised when his left hand slid over her own, drawing it up to the fullness of her breast.

“What…?” Dawn trailed off in confusion as Spike’s hand coaxed hers to weigh the rounded flesh in her palm as his hand guided her, gliding over the responsive skin, squeezing her hand to pinch and roll the nipple in her long, thin fingers.

“Don’t you think you should know your body…what feels good…the things you like…before anybody else does?” Spike cooed softly, encouraging Dawn to explore her body, find release, seek the pleasure that she had denied herself before.

She arched her back a bit when Spike’s right hand guided hers upward, clasping both breasts firmly as little shocks of pleasure shot to her womb.

Spike couldn’t restrain his hips from thrusting forward as she bucked against him. As tender and romantic as he wanted to be, the image of Dawn’s lithe body, bowed backward, the little pink nipples that peaked through her fingers and grazed his guiding hands, the soft mewls of discovery began to weaken the vampire’s restraint.

At Spike’s urging, Dawn continued her experimentation, gentling pulling, pinching, rolling her nipples between her fingers. Spike trailed succulent kisses along the creamy column of Dawn’s neck, tempted as he was to sink his fangs into that unmarred skin. Spike shook the demon back, knowing it was far too soon to allow his intrusion.

A delighted murmur from Dawn focused his attentions once more.

“What do you like best, pet?”

Dawn’s eyes closed as she tried to separate the myriad of sensations, “I like the pulling,” she drawled, a little embarrassed at giving voice to her desires. She gave her nipples another firm tug, moaning a little at the sensation, then spread her fingers open, letting Spike feel the urgent, hard points underneath his fingers. He couldn’t resist but to give the rosy peaks a gentle pull, impatient to know what she would do once his lips wrapped around that tender flesh, suckling till her belly raged with a fiery need. He growled low in her ear when a fresh burst of Dawn’s arousal hit the air.

Arching back again as she moaned, Dawn unwittingly squirmed out of the blankets, revealing her bare, beautiful mound that ached to be touched.

“So beautiful, you are,” Spike breathed out, overwhelmed at the sight before him.

Dawn’s hips rose to seek an elusive friction, unaware as she was of exactly what she sought.

“Spike…I need…,” Dawn groaned, trying to make sense of the throbbing between her legs.

“I know what you need, babygirl,” Spike soothed behind her ear, sliding Dawn’s right hand to her swollen mound, their fingers spreading the tender lips in tandem. “So hot…so wet,” Spike praised as he guided Dawn’s fingers around her swollen nether lips. Spike couldn’t help but pass his fingers along the slick, smooth flesh as well, envisioning the day, hopefully not far from now, when Dawn would be ready for the vampire to taste that soft, sweet, responsive flesh.

“Reach down…,” Spike pushed Dawn’s finger gently, nudging her to delve into her snug, pillowed walls.

Dawn gasped a little as her finger slid inside, enjoying the exploration of her soaking channel. She bucked up against her hand, seeking even greater sensation.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Spike teased at a whisper, “Not too far, pet, there’s something special there I’m saving for later,” he nibbled playfully on Dawn’s ear at her protesting groan.

“Gather up the wet with your fingers, now,” Spike could hear the liquid rush that now coated Dawn’s fingers, his hand, now also soaked as he pulled her fingers to the top of her furrow.

Sliding her left hand from her breast, Spike guided Dawn’s fingers to the swollen lips below, showing her fingers how to part the flesh, to bring the needy pearl out, and add to the delicious pressure that was burning in her core.

“Discover what you like, pet—firm strokes…circles…little taps…maybe even a little pinch, yeah?”

Dawn might have blushed at his words if her entire body wasn’t already flush with color. Spike could feel Dawn’s fingers beneath his, experimenting with every movement he had suggested. Her ragged breath and rapid pulse reverberated against the vampire’s firm chest, and when Dawn found the rhythm, the series of strokes and taps that suited her, Spike let his right hand travel back to Dawn’s breast, cupping its glorious weight, tracing the pink circle till it again puckered tightly, pulling on the taut nipple, making Dawn moan.

Suckling at the tender flesh behind Dawn’s ear, Spike snaked his left hand beneath Dawn’s thigh, his fingers drawing enticing trails over unexplored flesh. The vampire’s fingers sought the snug channel that Dawn’s fingers had abandoned, now occupied at her swollen clit. Spike growled soft and deep in his chest as his finger entered her body, the charged flesh buzzing and humming against the digit.

“More…Spike, please,” Dawn begged, her fingers punishing the aching button between her thighs, her taut body driving back against Spike’s chest.

“Yes, babygirl…there’s more…always more,” Spike assured, slipping another finger into Dawn’s needy core as he nibbled and suckled on the pulse of her throat, fighting the demon for control as the blood pounded audibly through every vein and artery of Dawn’s body, the love and connection radiating from Dawn calling to both man and beast.

Spike’s deft hand pumped in time with the rhythm of Dawn’s racing pulse, his palm grazing the tender flesh below while his thumb tickled at her bottom, his right continuing its attentions to Dawn’s aching nipples. Spike groaned in pleasure when he brought his sticky fingers, rich with Dawn’s essence, to his mouth to dampen them and continue his ministrations.

“Spike?” an edge of nervous tensions colored Dawn’s invocation, unsure of the sensations edging out conscious thought, threatening to make the inexperienced eighteen-year-old lose control.

“That’s it, pet…let go, luv,” Spike encouraged softly. “I’ve got ya’…,” Spike promised as he continued the steady beat between Dawn’s legs and at her breast.

“Spike…,” Dawn’s plea rose in pitch as her body strained against his.

Spike slid in a third finger into Dawn’s pulsing core as her keening wail rose in volume, her body fairly glowing with a sheen of charged energy. His fingers met with crackling electricity as they skimmed along Dawn’s dewy skin like a static current released at a touch.

Spike scooped up Dawn, cradling her in his arms as the incapacitating shudders pulsed through Dawn’s body. Clinging fiercely to the vampire, Dawn finally raised her chin at the gentle encouragement of Spike’s finger. Dawn’s eyes shone an ethereal bright blue, even in the pitch dark, as Spike’s threatened to flash amber. Heedless of the warning, Dawn reached up and crushed her mouth to Spike’s, her tongue searching, plunging, barely nicking itself against a fang that begged to descend.

Spike’s needful groan dropped to a throaty growl as a drop of her powerful blood slid down his throat, the droplet’s path causing little frissons of energy as it descended. Pulling back from the deep kiss took every reserve of the vampire’s restraint, his jaw clenched as he willed the fangs to recede and his eyes to return to their own blue.

Dawn’s mouth explored the tender skin of Spike’s throat while her hands traveled over the defined planes and ridges of his chest and torso, eager to touch the flesh that had cradled her as she came.

Spike groaned audibly when Dawn’s tongue found his rigid nipple, unsure how long he could restrain himself under her delicious assault. He had tried to ignore the needs of his own body, as his focus had been split between encouraging Dawn to find her pleasure while he worked to keep his demon at bay. Now that the crisis had passed, his straining cock stood at attention and it was not long before Dawn’s wandering hands found his impressive length.

“Bit…,” Spike begrudgingly groaned in warning, though he could hardly remember the last time he was touched by any hand besides his own.

“Spike…,” Dawn softly cajoled, “You know you can’t go to sleep like this,” Dawn passed her hand lightly over the bulge in Spike’s sweatpants. “I promise—I won’t do anything you don’t think I’m ready for,” Dawn pled sweetly, giving Spike one of those, coy, wide-eyed, mischievous looks that only he could see in the pitch dark.

“I just need to take me a long, cold shower’s all,” Spike made to push up from the bed, but Dawn remained between his legs, determined to get her way.

“Spike, how am I supposed to learn if I can’t even see it,” Dawn rationalized, topping off her argument with the famous Summers’ pout.

Spike groaned at his historic inability to resist that protruding lip.

“Dawn…,” Spike moaned defeatedly.

“Come on,” Dawn tempted, her hand drawing a path over Spike’s tented length. “You can show me what you like, how you want to be touched,” Dawn whispered, her lips planting sweet kisses behind Spike’s ear, tracing down the corded muscles of his neck. Dawn softened the hard line of Spike’s jaw with warm kisses as her tempting, berried nipples grazed Spike’s cool, muscular chest.

Dawn’s fingers trailed down the defined lines of Spike’s abdomen. They toyed with the cord bowed at his waistband before looking up to meet the vampire’s blue eyes once more, her final plea only two simple words, “Teach me….”
***
Spike’s mouth was agape though silent, astounded at Dawn’s capacity to reduce him to the simpering sap that William had once been. Earlier that evening, Spike reluctantly resolved to help Dawn, to introduce her to the world of sexual pleasures, carefully, incrementally, fearful as he was of overwhelming the girl with the depth and breadth of his experience. Cautious, pedantic, Spike placed himself squarely in the role of protector once again, his mind’s eye recalling the young teenager snuggled up to his side as they watched Passions, who came to his crypt for tutoring because she had skipped school yet again, or forced him to eat the peanut butter and banana quesadillas she’d concocted.

Spike blinked, focusing once again on the lithe beauty before him. She had left Sunnydale an awkward teenager, unsure of her place and purpose, bending to the voices of the opinionated and self-righteous, still at the mercy of her sister’s erratic whims and wishes. But kneeling before him, secure and confident, even in her inexperience, Dawn sat before him like an Eve who remained shameless even after her first taste, eager and fearless, the potential to give and receive pleasure bubbling like a spring within her body.

The complexities of Dawn were staggering—eighteen years of memories, four years of blood running through her veins, and a thousand years of power and light. All these contradictions existed within the beautiful young woman before him, delicious curves, warm ivory skin, ocean-blue eyes that studied the vampire softly, inquiringly, a hopeful knowing that promised him pleasure while retaining her only slightly muddied innocence.

“Spike?” Dawn asked softly, her fingers twining around the twill drawstring at his waist.

Wordlessly, Spike gave a gentle nod of acquiescence, his needless breath held in anticipation.

With a broad smile and mischievous glint, Dawn pulled at the ties as if opening a birthday present. When the bow gave way, Dawn’s smile became a bashful one and her face grew warm with color.

Undeterred, Dawn pushed back her embarrassed fears as her fingers grasped at Spike’s waistband. Dawn lifted the fabric up and away, so as not to awkwardly catch Spike’s cock in the confines of the jersey and elastic. Silently bringing his hips off the bed, Spike watched Dawn’s face as the anatomy with which she was so unfamiliar came into view.

The brunette beauty smiled curiously as the thick, pale flesh bobbed rigidly against the vampire’s taut abdomen, anchored in a nest of honey-brown curls. The heavy, cool sac lay below, giving the illusion of virility to a creature long-since dead.

In this, Spike was the perfect complement for Dawn in all his incongruities. How could someone dead well over a hundred years be so endued with life? Both physical prowess and intense emotion were ever-present in what, by definition, should be little more than an animated corpse. Strength, speed, and grace accompanied by desire, love, and loyalty served to fool even God himself into turning a blind eye to the stillness of the vampire’s blood, the silent pulse, when Spike reclaimed his soul. And if it hadn’t been but a ruse, Spike would have reclaimed his beating heart as well in the abandoned opera house that night, taking back from Angel what his childe had, so many years ago, taken away.

But regret held no place in the vampire’s thoughts at the moment, the young beauty at the foot of his bed held his complete attention. Dawn grinned as she finished pulling off Spike’s sweats with a flourish, crawling back up the length of the bed with a predatory grace, sliding her splayed fingers up his muscular calves and thighs, noting the defined sinew, much-abused joints, and (though he may never admit to it) even the ticklish spot behind the knee that made the master vampire squirm and giggle.

Dawn had promised not to take things too quickly which she assumed included any warm and wet parts of her anatomy avoiding contact with the more sensitive parts of his, though she hoped Spike’s prohibition against such activities would soon be lifted. Grinning impishly, Dawn dropped her head as she neared the vampire, her long, full, soft locks ghosted across his inner thighs, the tender sac, and the rigid length that sought contact with the silky tresses. Raking his fingers through her locks, Spike groaned at the teasing sensation, fighting the urge to wrap her hair in his hands and draw her to his needy flesh.

Dawn smiled at her small success but rose to her knees lest Spike reprimand her for tempting him beyond the bounds of his already-shaky control. For all of Dawn’s bravado, when faced with the raw display of manhood before her, trepidation once again crept into her demeanor.

Kneeling between Spike’s thighs, Dawn asked quietly, “Can I…?” her eyes nervously glancing down at his proud member before returning to the vampire’s steady gaze.

Spike smiled, the return of Dawn’s uncertainty conversely precipitating his own calm and confidence. “You can touch me anywhere you like, luv.”

Dawn relaxed and smiled softly at Spike’s encouragement. Her fingertips made a gentle path up the column of hardened flesh, Spike’s cock jumping a bit against Dawn’s hand as it sought the friction promised in her touch. Dawn started a little at the unexpected movement and drew back a bit, unsure as to what she might expect.

“’S natural, Bit. Jus’ happy to see you, he is,” Spike drew a warm, blushing smile from Dawn as he made her at ease, gently drawing her hand back to his length. Shyly, Dawn continued her exploration of Spike’s body—her right hand tracing the veins and ridges, her left toying with band of flesh that when pulled back, revealed the turgid, plum-colored head weeping its pearly essence in anticipation. Dawn dipped her fingertip in the pool of Spike’s natural slickness, testing its slip with her thumb.

“You might spread it around a bit, Pet,” Spike gently encouraged, Dawn spreading the available fluid down his impressive length.

“Mmm, thas’ nice, Nibblet,” Spike sighed as he couldn’t resist thrusting his hips into her eager hands, relishing in Dawn’s tentative but determined attentions. Continuing in her strokes, she felt Spike’s cool flesh grow warm under her touch and was a little afraid that Spike would refuse to tell her if her ministrations turned from pleasurable to painful. Under ideal circumstances, the slickness made by his body would be added to her own, and his cock would be slipping inside her hot, moist flesh rather than merely her hands.

Dawn slipped her left hand between her legs as she had done just moments ago, but now gathered the slick juices pooled between her nether lips, their parting sending a fresh burst of Dawn’s scent to the vampire who groaned at the beautiful assault to his senses. Dawn added her own essence to Spike’s, easing the fiery flesh as her strokes grew bold.

“Bloody hell…,” Spike groaned, hips driving against Dawn’s fist once again while his jaw clenched in an attempt to retain his self-control. The demon inside fought for release, begged to plunge into Dawn’s unexplored depths, to give her precisely what she had asked for, Spike’s better judgment be damned. But the heart and the soul kept the demon at bay, wanting Dawn’s first time to be sweet and perfect and…

“Fuck!” Spike exclaimed as Dawn’s left hand slipped down to explore the sensitive flesh below, palming the weighty sac, her fingers sliding through the sparse curls and down to the responsive skin below while her right continued to stroke the long-untouched cock in her hand.

“You like that?” Dawn asked shyly, though the answer should’ve been evident in the vampire’s verbal outbursts and straining hips.

“Oh, babygirl, you have the hands of a goddess…bloody perfect, you are,” he exhaled an unneeded breath. Encouraged in his praise, Dawn’s fingers stroked above and below, fascinated at the differences in skin and substance, resistance and give as her hands explored Spike’s body. Running her finger along the thick vein underneath, tracing the edge of the crown, dipping her fingertip to extract more of Spike’s slippery fluid, Dawn measured his responses to her attentions. Growing bolder, the fingers of Dawn’s left hand explored further below, tracing the muscular cleft of Spike’s ass, causing Spike to nearly levitate off the bed as Dawn’s fingers tickled at his puckered flesh.

“Jesus, Bit!” Spike gasped as Dawn’s hot breath exhaled against his needy cock. She skimmed the swollen shaft against her soft cheek, tracing along her jaw line, ghosting along the bottom edge of her lip.

“Promised…,” Spike pleaded in a breath, unsure if he was entreating Dawn or himself. He couldn’t help, however, the yearning need boiling within his borrowed blood. The demon begged for Dawn’s eager mouth, tight cunt, plunging fingers—it had been far too long since Spike had been touched and desired, and never before by someone so generous and attentive.

“I remember…,” Dawn responded, watching as Spike’s eyes swirled in amber and blue, witnessing Spike wrestle with his demon as she tortured him so deliciously. She would keep her promise for tonight, but she was also eager to learn his body, to know what pleased him, to feel him give up that control, even if only for a moment.

Instinctively Dawn met the rise of Spike’s hips with her own, her body seeking out the natural rhythm of lovemaking, even as she fought the urge to wrap more than just her hands around Spike’s full cock.

Spike gasped as Dawn’s puckered nipple accidentally grazed his taut flesh. Grinning, Dawn cataloged the reaction, brushing the rosy tips over the plum-colored head, even gleaning a drop of his clear essence onto her hardened points.

“Seems I’ve got bumpies of my own,” Dawn teased Spike’s straining cock with her breasts.

Spike could only moan in defeat as Dawn mischievously tested the boundaries he had established. He could hardly be expected to control the situation, being currently reduced to an inarticulate writhing heap at Dawn’s mercy.

Eager to prove her readiness, to show Spike how she could please him if given the opportunity, Dawn asked, “Should I go faster….slower….harder…?” Dawn sampled these for Spike as she inquired, wanting to bring Spike pleasure at her hands.

“Steady…firm grip…give ‘em a bit of a squeeze…not too hard though, pet,” Spike confessed his needs to Dawn, letting her know how best to bring him off. Even though he had tried to tell himself that all this was for Dawn’s sake, Spike couldn’t deny the pleasure she was giving him, how her inexperienced but willing hands ministered to his body and soul.

Spike’s hands gripped at Dawn’s thrusting hips, trying to find purchase against the charge that was building in his groin.

“Feel ‘em tighten up, pet?” Spike indicated Dawn’s hand that held his sac, now tightening against his body. Dawn nodded, marveling at Spike’s responsiveness. Dawn edged even closer, her tender nether lips grazing against Spike’s taut scrotum with every stroke against the flesh made warm by her hands.

Spike could swear his silent pulse was pounding as the pressure in his sac began to rise. Between panting breaths, he warned, “Pet, I’m gonna….”

“Come for me, Spike, please,” Dawn’s eyes flickered bright blue in the dark, her hands and body seeking Spike’s pleasure, her smile anticipating the throb she could feel building at the base of his cock.

“Bit…,” Spike breathed out.

Beseeching, Dawn pled, “Show me what I do to you….”

With that, an amber-eyed Spike came with a roar, spending his seed over Dawn’s breasts and belly. He watched in relief and fascination as he painted her ivory skin with his creamy fluid, his hips still thrusting a little, silently encouraging Dawn to milk his cock of any lingering essence.

Spike slowly regained his senses, trying to make a furtive reconnaissance of Dawn, praying that he wouldn’t find fear or regret in her expression. Instead, Spike saw the gleam of satisfied pride in her eyes, seeming to gloat a little at her accomplishment.

“So,” Dawn teased coyly, tracing lazy patterns through the spendings that clung to her skin, “Did I pass?”

Chuckling, Spike pulled Dawn on top of him, not minding the cool stickiness that now sandwiched the teacher and student together. “I’d say you’re well on your way to the top of the class,” he praised, pulling the brunette beauty in for a kiss.

“But aren’t I your only student?” Dawn playfully pouted.

“Definitely A plus work,” Spike assured, fisting his hand through her chestnut locks. “Though you almost earned yourself a detention for disobedience,” Spike teased with a cocked eyebrow, not forgetting the tantalizing proximity of her mouth and nipples during her ministrations.

Before Spike could finish cleaning them up with Dawn’s shower-damp towel, she mischievously swiped at the last drop and gave her finger an inquisitive lick before asking suggestively, “What exactly will it take to get me sent to the principal’s office?”
***
Ch 6
After receiving a playful smack on her bare bottom for being a “cheeky bint” and tempting poor, unsuspecting vampires beyond their already shaky capacity for self-control, Dawn gave Spike a sweet kiss goodnight and snuggled down against his body for the night. The vampire groaned a whimper as Dawn wriggled her backside squarely against his cock, knowing it was likely to be a very long night. But, regardless of the self-imposed demands on his restraint, Spike smiled as he closed his eyes in sleep, hoping that Dawn would be in his bed for many nights to come…
***
In the early morning hours, Dawn smiled sleepily as she awoke, deciding she had never had a more pleasant, satisfying night in her entire life. Though normally a very squirmy sleeper, Dawn had shifted only once, turning over as she searched unconsciously for her runaway pillow that had been shoved back to the headboard sometime during the night.

Only half-awake, Dawn discerned that her fingers were laced through soft curls and her left leg was wrapped around Spike. Dawn slowly awoke to the sensation of a slow fire building in her belly and cool lips at her bare breast.

Blinking open her heavy eyelids, Dawn looked down to find a sleeping vampire in her arms, suckling contentedly at her breast. Dawn tried to keep her breathing steady so as not to wake her dreaming companion, his unconsciousness giving freedom to his buried desire.

As Dawn’s eyes adjusted to the dark, she studied the hungry yearning in Spike’s expression, even as his blue eyes darted behind closed lids. The desire for closeness, acceptance and warmth was evident as Spike pulled the breast deeply into his mouth, laved the taut ridges with his tongue and worried the pert nipple with his blunt teeth. Imperceptibly, Dawn drew herself closer to Spike’s body, wrapping her leg even tighter around his hip.

Stifling the deep moans that threatened to escape her throat, the eager brunette was careful not to awaken Spike and bring an abrupt end to his ministrations. Dawn gently stroked the white curls to soothe the dreaming vampire, though she couldn’t resist softly tracing the tender, pink skin where Spike’s lips met her breast, smiling as she ghosted a finger where they were joined, making the tingling flesh pucker all the more.

Dawn was surprised at how Spike’s attentions at her breast seemed to shoot hot strokes of heat to her core, growing swollen and wet as the vampire fulfilled his desire for a taste of Dawn’s tender flesh that he denied himself the night before. His cock, too, responded in kind, lengthening and swelling, parting Dawn’s slick nether lips as it nudged at her clit. Careful not to wake her slumbering bedmate, Dawn rocked her hips forward, her eager nubbin beginning to beg for the friction promised by Spike’s now rock-hard member.

Softly stroking the razor-sharp cheek bones and then the drawn-in hollow, Dawn gently encouraged the recurring pull at her breast. A slumbering Spike smiled at Dawn’s tender touch, switching to cool licks against the bumpy flesh and short, pulsing pulls to the tip of Dawn’s breast.

“Sweet bit…,” Spike cooed dreamily against Dawn’s breast, the Spike of the demon’s subconscious clearly willing to indulge in the schoolgirl’s temptations.

“Spike…,” Dawn hissed in return, reveling in the ignored inhibitions of the souled vampire while she ground against his length.

His cock nestled in the warmth in between the slickened labia it had found. Dawn groaned inwardly that she was forbidden from sheathing herself on Spike’s hungry shaft, reminding herself of the promise she had made to him not to rush the fateful moment, even though the vampire’s body seemed more than wiling. She had to content herself with almost furtive movements, her swollen clit yearning for the rhythmic nudge from Spike’s weeping cockhead.

Dawn thrust her hips stealthily against Spike’s, moving as much as she dare while trying to keep her amorous vampire asleep. His lips lay soothing, sweet kisses against the now-swollen flesh of Dawn’s nipple. Turning slightly to seek even greater contact with Spike’s hungry length, Dawn’s left breast grazed his cheek, a contented hum rumbling from his throat as he nestled in the valley of her warm breasts.

Though Dawn had tried to keep her breathing even so as not to startle the sleeping vampire, the throbbing between her legs and at her breast sent blood surging through her veins. She could not control the rapid thrum of the heartbeat that drew the vampire to the neglected breast. Dawn took her warm, fleshy mound in hand, directing the nipple to graze at Spike’s searching lips.

“Spike…,” Dawn whispered, softly stroking his cheek, Spike’s mouth toying with Dawn’s untouched flesh. Dawn was torn between the desire to clasp him fiercely to her breast and ride out her orgasm along the thick shaft nestled between her thighs and her fascination with watching her friend, her protector, her youthful crush, suckle and lap at her breast tenderly. Dawn was gratified as Spike’s mouth latched onto her nipple, again sending a heated tether straight to her yearning clit.

Dawn clutched a sleeping Spike as closely as she could without rousing him. The brunette’s curious mind tried to imagine what repressed longings had worked their way into Spike’s thoughts during the night—all those carnal desires that Dawn longed to experience—that Spike had promised if only she would be patient. Dawn bit her lip to quiet her keening cry as Spike’s hips thrust into hers, eagerly sliding through her slick folds to spark her needy clit (whose value the inexperienced beauty had discovered only last night).


Dawn could not push aside the errant question of whether her sister would have allowed him such liberties? Would she have held him to her breast until he was sated? Secure? Whole again? Even though she had arrived on Spike’s doorstep only the day before with a wanton request on her lips, Dawn hoped that she could please the worldly vampire and help soothe the scars that he carried within him.


“Mmm…m’Nibblet,” Spike spoke in his sleep, worshipping at her lush breast. Dawn’s eyes glazed with tears, happily overwhelmed as he called to her a second time from his dream.

Just as the tender, sheltering thoughts began to overtake the draw of the absolute lust running through her veins, Spike pulled Dawn’s body even closer in, seeking the heat of her folds. Their sexes worked against each other, each seeking relief in their neediness. Plaintive, muffled moans reverberated around the brunette’s pert flesh, their bodies rocking rhythmically as Spike’s engorged cock slid through the furrow of Dawn’s slick folds.

Spike’s mouth engulfed Dawn’s breast, his tongue wrapping around the taut nipple as his mouth worked the flesh around it. Dawn’s blood sang so loudly that it seemed the beat echoed against the room’s solid walls, the air nearly electrified with it.

Though Dawn knew she was different from other girls…mystical…otherworldly, she knew of no norm for comparison. The embodied Key knew nothing of typical human sexuality—would never know its frustrating limits—but instead reveled as a fiery charge began to build between her thighs, the energy poised to flood every extremity.

Amidst the eavesdropped sexual exploits of vampires, slayers, witches and demons, Dawn could not yet appreciate the uniqueness of her circumstance—the power of her body…her blood. The paradoxical need—to be at once released and connected—commanded her whole attention, the waves of electricity assaulting her system only fueling the flame. Dawn clung fiercely to the vampire as she drove nearer her climax. Her body was a taut bow, the arrow sliding across her string. She was pulled so tightly, afraid that if release didn’t come soon, she might just splinter to pieces.

Although the soul would keep the conscious vampire in check, the lure of Dawn’s charged lifeblood enticed a fang to draw from its sheath. Though Dawn did not hear the bones shift nor feel the tell-tale ridges harden against her breast, she felt the errant fang pierce her nipple as Spike suckled, drawing a small draught of Dawn’s vibrant blood onto his tongue.

They both roared in their shared orgasm. Dawn’s normally lithe muscles had gone momentarily rigid as the violent jolt possessed her body, still clinging fiercely to the blond vampire as their combined fluids coated her mound and his cock in the evidence of their shared pleasure. The satisfaction she had drawn from her fingers the night before seemed but a precursor to the sensations brought about by the needy fang slipping to her breast. Though she was certain Spike would chastise himself thoroughly for the breech of his discipline and control, Dawn’s exhilaration continued unabated.

Spike reeled as the erotic experiences of his dreams and wakefulness merged in a sudden jolt—for an instant, the heat, the pulse, the coursing blood he possessed in the illusion seemed to meld with the morning’s realities. The pounding heartbeat, flushed skin, and panting breaths seemed as much his as Dawn’s, the current she created coursing its circuit through their bodies. Though it made no logical sense, for a few seconds, Spike felt the curious combination of being both human and vampire, but, yet, he was unable to make sense of this current paradox. Rational thought would have to wait until the ceaseless aftershocks of orgasm began to slow.

The sheen of sweat from Spike’s forehead pooled against Dawn’s breast as he gasped to regain breath normally unneeded. In the moments that passed, the heat of his flesh and the susurration of his blood slowly receded, and the vampire began to recover from the climax his conscious mind had not prepared for. With the fantasy and reality beginning to separate more distinctly, Spike’s vision focused, and he noticed a glistening droplet of blood as it gathered atop Dawn’s nipple.

“Oh, Nibblet…,” Spike sighed, lapping at the unintended wound to close it while he inwardly berated himself for allowing his demon even a small sip of Dawn’s precious blood.

“Spike…,” Dawn breathed in return, still rocking absently at the warm slickness between her legs, contentedly drawing out her orgasm, as yet unaware of the vampire’s concerns.

Spike startled as she whispered his name, looking up to meet her gaze. He searched Dawn’s face in his sudden self-consciousness, convinced that the unintended bite must have affected her. He first caught the glazed sheen of her eyes and immediately panicked at her tears.

“Sweetheart, did I hurt you?” Spike looked frantically at her body for any other wound, though finding none. “Scare you? Upset you?” His hands smoothed her hair as he cupped her face in entreaty.

“What?...No, I’m fine,” Dawn smiled in the ebbing ripples of her powerful climax, offering the confused vampire a tender kiss. Unconvinced by the show of affection, Spike continued in his pursuit.

“But, Pet…you’re crying…,” Spike thought his fears over Dawn’s initiation into sex were surely coming to pass.

“No…,” Dawn soothed, running her fingers through the soft blonde curls as she smiled, recalling her name on his lips as they had sought her breast, “You were dreaming about me,” she shyly confessed the joyful realization, Spike wiping away the errant tears with his thumbs.

Spike relaxed, suddenly forgetting all the urgent questions that had first plagued him when he awoke. Dawn’s sexual pleasure was evident in her hooded gaze and caressing hands; Spike shook off the compunction for guilt, his playful nature reigning once more. The vampire couldn’t help but consider all the still untapped sexuality within the blue-eyed beauty.

“Course I was dreaming about you, pet. After last night…thinkin’ bout how soft…how sweet…how delicious you are. Dreamin’ bout all the things I want to show you…want to teach you,” Spike teased, running a finger down the long curve of Dawn’s body.

Dawn laughed softly. “I was just so surprised when you said my name…well, not my name, cause you only call me by my name when you’re pissed at me…, you know what I mean,” Dawn glanced down embarrassedly, her face blushing in the dark.

As Spike continued to search Dawn’s face for answers, the full implication of Dawn’s words became clear. Though he would never dream of comparing the Summers girls in this respect, her niggling insecurities played behind eyes that still shone in impossible blue.

“Babygirl, look at me,” Spike gently raised her chin with the crook of his finger. “The very best moment of my unlife was yesterday when you walked through that door. Got to hold you…touch you…,” Spike’s soulful blue eyes begged Dawn to believe him as his fingers traced paths over her porcelain skin. “You are no replacement or consolation prize—do you understand me?” he asserted so firmly that it brooked no argument. “Bloody amazin’, you are,” he responded in a reverent hush as he caressed her long, silky locks.

“Spike…,” Dawn drawled softly, moved at the affirmation that Spike indeed wanted her and did not view the inexperienced schoolgirl as an intrusion or substitute. Hungry for his cool touch once again, Dawn wrapped herself tightly against Spike’s muscular body, while her tongue explored the depths of his mouth.

Spike whimpered a groan and broke the kiss in complaint, wishing all to hell that he didn’t have to meet his poof of a grand-sire downtown in half an hour.

“Can’t start that again, luv, gotta head to work,” Spike lamented, muttering curses that he had agreed to help Angel clean out a vamp nest early this morning. He rolled onto his belly, his bare ass now in view as he tried to will away the erection that had sprung to life almost as soon as his climax had subsided.

“You could just tell the big poofter that you’ll be there in a couple of hours,” Dawn tempted as she scratched a teasing, ticklish assault at the cleft of Spike’s ass, Spike chuckling to himself at the crude nickname she had picked up from him.

Raising up to plant a kiss at Dawn’s hipbone, Spike rested on his elbow to explain, “Gotta’ take ‘em out this morning, pet. Angel says they’ve been wreaking havoc downtown—thought they could take over some prime territory after the big showdown. Can’t have ‘em snackin’ on sweet little birds like yourself,” Spike gently reasoned, gnawing playfully on Dawn’s neck with blunt teeth till she squirmed.

“I know,” Dawn conceded, her mood turning thoughtful once again, “I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” Dawn ran the back of her finger over Spike’s sharp cheekbone as she spoke her concern.

“Baby, you know I’ve faced down way worse than a nest of rag-tag fledges hold up in some flophouse.” Spike reminded. In fact, after his small taste of Dawn’s blood, Spike was feeling strong enough to tackles scores of vamps all by his lonesome, no help from Peaches required. The charge of her blood had peaked, but the after-effects seemed to linger still. It would be difficult to tear himself away from the beautiful young woman in his bed, but he was primed for the work that needed to be done.

“Hey, while I’m gone, you can figure out where you want to go shopping,” Spike tempted Dawn back into a good humor with a quick kiss to her belly for good measure.

“Fine,” Dawn sighed, reluctantly agreeing to have Spike don his proverbial white hat this morning. She flipped on the small bedside lamp as her hopes of luring the dutiful vamp back to bed were put on hold. Spike groaned in complaint as he pulled away from Dawn’s comfortable, warm embrace and swung his feet to the floor, wishing, for a moment, that he could ignore his pesky soul this morning and spend the day in bed with a very naked Dawn Summers. As Spike prepared to head for the shower, he thought of the unpleasant task he needed to assign.

“And, Nibblet,” Spike sighed, turning back to meet Dawn’s blue gaze, “I need you to call big sis this morning and let her know you’re here.” Spike did not relish the necessity of bringing up Buffy at the moment.

“It has to be today?” Dawn groaned, trying to put off the inevitable call.

“Yeah, pet, I’d rather she hear it from you than from Angel.”

“Why the hell should he have anything to do with it?” Dawn’s feathers rose at the potential interference.

“Because when I get within fifteen feet of the great wanker, he’s gonna know you’re here. And you know that the first thing he’s gonna do as soon as I’m outta’ sight will be to put in a call to Buffy. Peaches can’t stand to keep his nose, quite literally, outta’ other people’s business, and I don’t fancy him startin’ today.”

“You’re right,” Dawn gave in with reasonable grace. “I’ll try to get in touch with her this morning,” Dawn gave Spike another kiss before reaching for the black tee she wore for all of five seconds the night before, sitting up to perch bare-bottomed on the side of the bed, the shadowed furrow of her bare mound peeking out flirtatiously from beneath the hem. Spike whimpered at the thought of leaving Dawn’s side for even a minute.

“I’ll heat you up some blood while you’re in the shower,” she playfully smacked Spike on his bare backside as he stumbled to the bathroom, but before he could get very far, Dawn called out, her curiosity finally getting the best of her, “So, you gonna’ tell me what that dream was all about?” Dawn teased, successfully stopping the vampire in his tracks.

Spike turned to look back at the mischievous minx on his bed, a coy grin on her face and adoration in her eyes. A delicious mixture of innocence and sexuality, infinite power and a wealth of tenderness, Dawn embodied every beautiful contradiction the vampire could dream of. The young beauty who had flown halfway round the world in the hopes that Spike would make love to her cocked her head curiously, waiting for an answer.

“Don’t need to tell ya’ luv…,” Spike smiled affectionately, remembering that moment when dreams and reality crossed paths, “’Cause it already came true….”
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Re: Spike & The Schoolgirl Adult Spike/Dawn 5-31-10 ch 7

Postby destinyc » Mon May 31, 2010 10:24 pm

Thanks Carrie! I appreciate the vote of confidence!

I've also been working on my crossover piece--and I'm having a tough time writing Dru! I'm hoping to post that chapter by the end of the week (though I have 2.5 days of being a camp sponsor this week) :roll: --so not my idea!

But I'll let you know when I get that one posted and see what you think of Dru and her nutty self.

I'm just so happy to have made it through prom, yearbook distribution, finals and graduation! Yea! :P

Ch 7
“Pronto,” answered the familiar voice over a static-filled line. Dawn had to snicker quietly over her sister’s attempt at Italian. Language was never particularly her strong-suit—action and violence, Buffy Summers could handle, but her mastery of Italian still needed work.

“It’s me,” Dawn replied flatly, sighing at the upcoming confrontation. She rolled her eyes out of habit, instantly regretting her promise to Spike that she would call her sister this morning. Logically, she knew that coming clean with Buffy would be a far better choice than repairing any damage Angel might do by tattling via long-distance, but Dawn still dreaded the impending rant.

“Where the hell are you?” Buffy’s proficient, and yet, colorful use of English rapidly returned. The twenty-three year old slayer could never quite figure out where Dawn inherited the independent streak that had taken her halfway around the world.

“No…no…not hell—remember, nasty cut, chanting Wiccas, hordes of demons I sent back home?” Dawn replied flippantly. “Not hell…just L.A.”

“Well, there’s one bleach blonde demon that I’m sure is still lurking about. Put him on—I’d like to know why he lied to me when I called yesterday,” Buffy sarcastically insisted.

“He’s with Angel right now, cleaning out a new vamp nest this morning,” Dawn replied to Buffy’s request. “And anyway, none of this is Spike’s fault, Buffy,” Dawn firmly declared. “Yesterday, I had just walked in the door, completely unannounced--I was tired, hungry, desperately in need of a shower, and just not in the mood to have this conversation with you.”

“Well, you could have told me you were flying across two continents and an ocean, you know,” Buffy petulantly admonished.

“I talked to Andrew when I couldn’t get a hold of you,” Dawn sighed, trying to avoid the hint of condescension that wanted to creep into her voice. Though her message was light on the specifics, her sister should have been able to figure out her destination—“Heading home to check out colleges” was an adequate itinerary in Dawn’s mind. Los Angeles would have to serve as a reasonable substitute for home, considering Sunnydale was just a fond memory.

Buffy groaned, having forgotten that any message filtered through Andrew was bound to be missing some key information. She needed to educate the twerp that he was not to edit her messages, screen her calls, or dismiss her visitors as he saw fit. Buffy relented in her tirade against her sister, knowing that making contact with the modern world had been nearly impossible in recent days.

“Sorry, the Caucasus aren’t exactly cell-friendly yet. Took us a week to slay this nasty she-viper, breeding all sorts of random big bads—dragons…hell-dogs…crazy, cross-bred monsters…you name it, she gave birth to it.”

“Local or inter-dimensional?” Dawn inquired, nonplussed.

“Local but dormant for the last several thousand years,” Buffy replied matter-a-factly. “Giancarlo figured the last big apocalypse must have woken-up some of the ancient nasties around here. We’ve been so busy with slaying that I had to hire Ilona as a wedding planner.”

“Ilona with the big boobs and loud mouth, Ilona?” Dawn asked incredulously.

“Well, after the big shakedown at Wolfram and Hart, she needed the work—and, obnoxious as she is, the woman does have major connections—got me a 30% discount on the cake, definitely of the good,” Buffy related proudly. “I don’t know what she did to get the discount—and more importantly, I don’t want to know,” Buffy didn’t want to think too hard about Ilona’s business tactics, but as evil corporate executives turned wedding planners went, Ilona was top-notch.

Dawn couldn’t help but laugh at her sister’s account of the supernatural and the mundane all in a single conversation. The young brunette’s likely backlash of guilt and betrayal diminished as Buffy discussed her upcoming wedding, though Dawn was not ready to openly reveal her plans concerning Spike just yet. She didn’t want to threaten the tentative peace with her sister and possibly jinx her potential deflowering at the hands of the sweet, sexy vamp in question.

“So have you and Giancarlo finally set a date?” Dawn pressed, knowing Buffy’s tendency to backpedal from emotional commitments. The eighteen-year-old’s fears of disloyalty lessened further still at her sister’s affirmative answer.

“Um, yeah, July 15th…8:30 pm in the gardens of Villa Romano—his parents’ estate. Big arbor covered in moonflowers, ornate fountains, cobblestone path…and hey, it’s free,” Buffy quipped. “And I picked mid-summer so you could be back in time for fall semester. You are going to start checking out colleges, right?” Buffy stressed, trying to make sure her sister stayed on track. Buffy smiled at Giancarlo who had just come in from his run, heading to the kitchen for a water before joining Buffy at the kitchen table.

“Well, yes, Buffy, I did just fly thousands of miles to do that very thing,” Dawn looked toward the ceiling in exasperation.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” Buffy chided, even though she couldn’t directly witness her sister’s reaction. Buffy’s fiancé chuckled quietly as he took a sip from the blue bottle.

“Well, first things first, Spike is taking me shopping when he gets home as the only thing I have to wear right now is my plaid skirt and white blouse that’s two sizes too small. Not to mention, I’m down to one bra and pair of panties that I had to wash out in the sink last night.”

“Dear Lord,” Buffy muttered, pulling Giancarlo’s glasses off his face and cleaning them with the bottom of her shirt tail.

“Donna matta,” Giancarlo grumbled under his breath as Buffy absently handed the polished glasses back.

Giancarlo just smiled and shook his head, dropping a kiss atop Buffy’s head on his way to the study.

“Dawnie, I could have sent you some clothes if you had just let me know you were leaving the country,” Buffy sighed, not happy about Dawn trekking across half the globe in her Catholic schoolgirl uniform that no longer fit the curves Dawn had acquired in the last year. The current absence of her sister’s undergarments as she waited for Spike to return was something else Buffy didn’t want to think about, especially since Giancarlo’s glasses weren’t currently available for cleaning.

“If you hadn’t left Assisi in such a rush…”

“Buffy, barely anyone would talk to me, the girls on my hall all started praying the rosary whenever they crossed my path, and my knees were chafed from all the contrition—as soon as I could leave—I did,” Dawn asserted.

“Look, I’m sorry…I just wanted to protect you, do what was best,” Buffy insisted, though she and Dawn had this argument many times before.

“I know, Buffy, and I did *my* part…studied hard, steered clear of demons, averted world destruction…,” Dawn teased, trying to lighten the mood once again. “But now…I need to do what’s right for me. I wanted to come home…visit some colleges…see Spike…,” Dawn snuck the blonde vampire into her list, hoping Buffy wouldn’t examine her motives too closely.

“How is he?” Buffy asked in genuine concern. “I heard he and Angel were pretty banged up after their big battle.”

“Still pretty sore yesterday…mmm, but he seemed to be feeling much better this morning,” Dawn replied, trying to quiet the hint of wickedness sneaking into her voice.

“Um…ok, then,” Buffy replied, trying to turn a blind eye to the reason for Spike’s rapid recovery. “Anyway, please pass the word to Angel that if he plans on stirring up any more apocalypses in the near future, he’d better call me personally. No sense in risking the whole of southern California without a little back-up,” Buffy snarked.

“Well, I imagine you’ll be hearing from the great brooding one within an hour or two. You can tell him so yourself,” Dawn retorted good-naturedly.

“Always the busybody, that one,” Buffy chuckled, realizing Angel would waste no time in reporting Dawn’s arrival in L.A. “I hope there’s some good slaying tonight—I’m afraid I’m going to need it.”

“Tell Giancarlo I said hi,” Dawn wound the conversation down, “and be careful out there tonight.”

“Same goes for you,” her sister replied, “Take care of yourself,” Buffy softened and added, “and take care of Spike, too….”
***

“And that’s why…,” Spike taunted as his powerful left hook sent a cocky fledgling bouncing off a steel pillar and onto the splintered leg of an abandoned office chair, Spike dispatching his tenth vamp of the morning, so far .

“You poncy buggers don’t come into my town,” a swift kick to the next vamp’s solar plexus sent him sailing through the glass of a far window, to meet his dusty end as the sun broke over the horizon.

“And try to set up shop,” he spat out, dusting his final vamp with the traditional stake through the heart, the peroxide blonde sidestepping quickly to avoid the shower of powdery remains that threatened to land on his boots.

Spike bounced on the balls of his feet, scanning for any demons who thought they might hide away from a quick retribution at the hands of the souled vampire. Spike tensed as he felt another vampire nearby, but then quickly relaxed as Angel’s scent and family signature made their presence known.

“I thought we said 6?” Angel seemed miffed at missing out on the morning’s action and a little stunned that Spike was willing to take on the entire nest alone, considering the injuries he had recently suffered.

“Sorry, mate, just anxious to take care of the soddin’ bastards,” Spike continued to bounce like a prizefighter, ready to take on another dozen or so. “Got me somewhere I need to be,” he replied, knowing his guest’s identity would not remain secret for long.

“Would you just stop that damned bouncing for a minute?” Angel stepped toward Spike to still him with his hand, and as he did so, moved close enough to smell Dawn’s unmistakable scent all over his childe.

“What the hell did you do?” Angel grabbed Spike by the lapels of his duster, shoving him against a crumbling plaster wall.

Spike’s mood quickly shifted, shoving Angel hard, sending him skidding on his ass across the unforgiving, tile floor.

“Back off, Grandpa,” Spike sneered, smiling that Peaches winced at the pain in his backside. ‘Serves him right,’ the younger vampire added to himself.

“Dawn showed up unexpectedly yesterday and is staying with me while she visits some of the nearby universities,” Spike replied, sounding vaguely like the Watcher as he reported the highly edited facts.

Finally rising from the floor, Angel took a deep breath as he neared Spike though did not make the mistake of laying hands on the younger vampire again.

“Doesn’t smell like a purely platonic visit,” the elder vamp accused, cocking his head knowingly.

Spike certainly couldn’t deny what was obvious to Angel’s enhanced senses.

“This is none of your business, Peaches,” Spike warned, not looking for a fight of this sort, but willing to finish it if need be.

“What are you thinking, Spike?” Angel roared. “She’s a kid, for God sake!”

“She’s eighteen, you wanker!” Spike shot back. “Now, how old was Buffy when you started dating her?” Spike inquired sarcastically, knowing full-well she was two years younger than Dawn is now.

“This is not about me!” Angel retorted.

“That’s the only true thing you’ve said all morning!” Spike cast a side-long look at his interfering grand-sire. Knowing Angel’s tendency to mind other people’s business and act on his unilateral judgments based on ‘what he thought best,’ Spike readied his rebuttal to Angel’s age-old pronouncement.

“She should try to live a normal—,” Angel was cut off by Spike’s rapid-fire reply.

“Do you ever actually listen to yourself, you ponce? I’ve loved that girl for nearly her whole life! Took care of her, protected her, got myself tortured for her,” Spike’s ire at Angel’s interference was growing by the second. “I’d do anything for that girl, give her anything she needed. She gave up on normal a long time ago, mate, just like her sister. And frankly, I’m done discussin’ it, cause I’ve got a beautiful young woman in my apartment. Need to bring her some breakfast and head off to take her shoppin’,” Spike straightened his rumpled lapels with a firm tug before moving to leave the gutted office building.

Angel sighed shamefully in resignation, realizing too late that Spike’s romantic life was no longer any of his business. He moved on to another piece of news that had plagued him for the last couple of days—yet another person’s love life that he could no longer influence.

“I heard Buffy was getting married,” Angel called after Spike, figuring he might as well broach the subject since it was evident that Spike was moving on.

“Yeah, she told me yesterday on the phone. I wished her my most sincere congratulations,” Spike replied evenly, turning his face back to his grand-sire, so the validity of his words would not be doubted.

“Are you going?” Angel asked sheepishly after their recent tussle.

“If Dawn wants me to escort her, than I suppose so,” Spike nodded thoughtfully, hoping that such an arrangement would be ok with the bride and groom.

“We could fly over together, if you want…,” Angel stammered awkwardly. “The private jet’s in hanger 17 at the Burbank airport,” Angel reminded, another Wolfram and Hart souvenir secreted away for their future use.

“I’ll talk to Dawn and see what she wants to do,” Spike smiling at the return to civilized conversation. As the younger vamp turned to go, he was reminded of the last request he needed to make of Angel that morning. With a wicked smirk he turned back to the elder vampire.

“By the way, I’m gonna’ be using the beach house sometime in the next couple of weeks—gotta’ girl to impress and all that. So, Angel…make sure you knock.
Last edited by destinyc on Sun Jun 06, 2010 5:51 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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