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It just won't leave me alone!
Sep. 7th, 2003 09:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
essene_backupAuthor's note: I seemed to have some trouble sticking to tense. I tried to fix the most glaring offenders. If I have missed any, I wholeheartedly apologize.
Director's note- To be said in a pouty, breathy voice:
Dawn did not agonize over the next time she would see Spike. She KNEW she would, but she had things to do first.
For Spike on the other hand, each second since she had left was excruciating and he desperately wanted to flee. He vacillitated between racking guilt, cursing himself for ever coming back to Sunnydale and complete awe over the wonder of one young girl. He'd find himself behind the wheel of the DeSoto, driving full throttle towards...nothing. As soon as he realized it, he would turn around and slowly make his way back to Sunnydale.
He had nowhere else to go. And there was nowhere that was safe for him now that he had this bloody chip in his head. At least in Sunnydale he afforded himself a bit of a unlife. Demons pretty much left him to his own devices now that rumour had spread about his determination to kill any that crossed his path. Vampires may not respect him anymore Slayer's pet, indeed!, but he never cared much for the whole complicated heirarchy anyway.
He knew why he stayed. He lied to himself and said it was because of the money the Slayer and Watcher grudgingly supplied. That he was interested in finding out what this "key" was, that blood bags were easy pickings, that Willie's was a good place to crash, that it had nothing to do with her.
He exhaled a cloud of smoke and took a swig of the Jim Bean straight from the bottle. Grasping the bottle's neck he made his way over to the couch, slumping down onto it. He could still smell her. It'd been a few weeks, but the faint lingering essence of her in the air caused his cock to stiffen without any provocation. He closed his eyes and saw her lithe limbs sprawled across his bed, her sweet pouting mouth, emerald eyes watching him. He unzipped and twisted his cock between his fingers, aching for her.
Day after day visions of her tortured him. Brought him exctacy, racked him with guilt. Her soft, hot mouth. Her small, delicate hands. The slick, fevered taste of her quim. A blur of silken hair, satin skin and giggles. The way she talked, the way she listened--her entire body leaning to him, as if savoring every word. Her scanning eyes, watching every move he made. Her quick mind. Her equally quick temper. A woman scratching her way out of a child's body.
He took another swig and tucked himself away, wiping the creamy liquid off his belly with the edge of his shirt. Each time it was less and less satisfying. It wasn't enough. After touching her, smelling her, tasting her, it would never be enough again.
He glanced at the bottle, Right then, time to get pissed.
He was more than a little fuzzy when he heard her voice, "Oh you bastard! You're drunk!"
Bloody priceless, now he was even imagining her berating him. And god help him if that didn't make him hard. He focused on the hazy image he'd conjoured up.
"Sweet girl," he slurred out. "My sweet, sweet girl."
So real. And he'd be damned if it didn't smell just like her. He lifted the remnants of the whiskey to his lips, but it never made it. It was jerked out of his hand.
"Hey!" He tried to follow the bottle's path and grab it back, but it moved so fast...
"Stupid, stupid, stupid..." His vision muttered darkly as he passed out.
Director's note- To be said in a pouty, breathy voice:
Dawn did not agonize over the next time she would see Spike. She KNEW she would, but she had things to do first.
For Spike on the other hand, each second since she had left was excruciating and he desperately wanted to flee. He vacillitated between racking guilt, cursing himself for ever coming back to Sunnydale and complete awe over the wonder of one young girl. He'd find himself behind the wheel of the DeSoto, driving full throttle towards...nothing. As soon as he realized it, he would turn around and slowly make his way back to Sunnydale.
He had nowhere else to go. And there was nowhere that was safe for him now that he had this bloody chip in his head. At least in Sunnydale he afforded himself a bit of a unlife. Demons pretty much left him to his own devices now that rumour had spread about his determination to kill any that crossed his path. Vampires may not respect him anymore Slayer's pet, indeed!, but he never cared much for the whole complicated heirarchy anyway.
He knew why he stayed. He lied to himself and said it was because of the money the Slayer and Watcher grudgingly supplied. That he was interested in finding out what this "key" was, that blood bags were easy pickings, that Willie's was a good place to crash, that it had nothing to do with her.
He exhaled a cloud of smoke and took a swig of the Jim Bean straight from the bottle. Grasping the bottle's neck he made his way over to the couch, slumping down onto it. He could still smell her. It'd been a few weeks, but the faint lingering essence of her in the air caused his cock to stiffen without any provocation. He closed his eyes and saw her lithe limbs sprawled across his bed, her sweet pouting mouth, emerald eyes watching him. He unzipped and twisted his cock between his fingers, aching for her.
Day after day visions of her tortured him. Brought him exctacy, racked him with guilt. Her soft, hot mouth. Her small, delicate hands. The slick, fevered taste of her quim. A blur of silken hair, satin skin and giggles. The way she talked, the way she listened--her entire body leaning to him, as if savoring every word. Her scanning eyes, watching every move he made. Her quick mind. Her equally quick temper. A woman scratching her way out of a child's body.
He took another swig and tucked himself away, wiping the creamy liquid off his belly with the edge of his shirt. Each time it was less and less satisfying. It wasn't enough. After touching her, smelling her, tasting her, it would never be enough again.
He glanced at the bottle, Right then, time to get pissed.
He was more than a little fuzzy when he heard her voice, "Oh you bastard! You're drunk!"
Bloody priceless, now he was even imagining her berating him. And god help him if that didn't make him hard. He focused on the hazy image he'd conjoured up.
"Sweet girl," he slurred out. "My sweet, sweet girl."
So real. And he'd be damned if it didn't smell just like her. He lifted the remnants of the whiskey to his lips, but it never made it. It was jerked out of his hand.
"Hey!" He tried to follow the bottle's path and grab it back, but it moved so fast...
"Stupid, stupid, stupid..." His vision muttered darkly as he passed out.
no subject
Date: 2003-09-07 10:55 am (UTC)And this was interesting. I adore angst. Angst, angst and more angst. (and you're dishing it out wonderfully)
I'd like to see some of Dawn's POV of the past weeks, though. Any chance of that?
no subject
Date: 2003-09-07 02:30 pm (UTC)I'd like to see some of Dawn's POV of the past weeks, though. Any chance of that?
Perhaps. I guess you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?
no subject
Date: 2003-09-07 12:24 pm (UTC)Can i join the addicted readers club?
I got here a bit by accident by going through
no subject
Date: 2003-09-07 02:35 pm (UTC)And if you're going to say kind stuff like that, you can say anything you want sweetie!
no subject
Date: 2003-09-07 04:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-07 07:52 pm (UTC)My poor eyes were having a hard time too.
Hopefully, I've come to something we can all live with.