Shake your groove thang
Sep. 8th, 2003 07:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
essene_backupLook at me! All productive and stuff! I put my Spawn up on my webpage so it's easier to backtrack, or join us in the insanity.
Find it: here. I've given it the tentative name, "Holy". If anyone has other suggestions I'm open.
She stared at him arms crossed, toe tapping, infuriated. She'd planned so carefully, stolen stuff, learned stuff, done stuff! And here he was passed out drunk on the couch, unable to appreciate any of her hard work.
After she had regrouped at the tree that evening she'd dashed home to face whatever great mess was brewing. It really wasn't too bad. Mom gave her the 3rd degree and demanded to see her paper (which she had had the brilliant foresight to include in her backpack--just in case), grumping when she had to reluctantly conceed that perhaps Dawn didn't fritter away her day. Buffy just raised an eyebrow at her when Dawn stuck her tounge out and dashed to her room.
That night she began planning. She knew she'd have to stay away for awhile and that it would be hard, but not as bad as the first time. He'd rejected her yet again, but she knew now that it wasn't because he didn't want her; it was because he felt that he shouldn't. And that was a whole different ballgame.
She started going to The Magic Box with Buffy more often. Sometimes hanging around their little group meetings, but usually she was poking around in all those little nooks and crannies. She started holing away with books, searching for something...and then one day she found it. The solution to her problem. After that her visits consisted of finding things and pocketing them, or practicing small, innocuous spells in the basement. Her sister and her friends ignored her for the most part, discussing stuff about some hell god and a key in confused tones.
He came in one night. She was in the basement but she heard his voice, clear as if he were standing next to her.
"Got a bit of information about those scruffy gits running about."
Her heart dropped into her stomach where it started beating rapidly. Her throat threatened to close up and her body flushed with heat. All from the sound of his voice. She inched up the stairs until she could peer through the bannister without fear of being seen.
Shining white-blonde hair, soft black leather, the walk of a lion on the prowl. He didn't even have to face her, or move to make her pulse with desire. He leaned lazily on a bookcase and flicked open his lighter to light the cigarette between his lips.
"Hey! The only thing we burn in here is incense! Our insurance doesn't cover arson!" Anya dashed over and pulled the cigarette from his mouth.
Dawn watched his eyes narrow and then he finally shrugged. "Fine." He turned away and focused on Buffy, "You interested or not?" It was the way he said it. Like it was more than asking about information, like he was asking her...to fuck him.
Dawn fisted her hands until her nails dug into her palms and felt her face begin to burn. She had to restrain herself from running out and shouting, "He's mine!"
Giles spoke up then, "Why don't we retire to my office and discuss it?"
Spike nodded in acquiesence and followed the older man. When they went in the door and shut it she slumped against the stairs trembling, unshed tears filling her eyes.
A small voice inside her pleaded Is he missing me at all? Why can't he look a little more...hurt, lost...something? Why's he have to look so...good?
She drew a deep breath. It was probably better that he wasn't acting all...weird. Buffy would stake him if she even thought he had done any of the things he had done to her.
She went back down the stairs on shaky legs to continue practicing.
All those nights alone in the basement. All those stinky herbs and spices and...other...things. Those tounge-twisting phrases she repeated over and over and over until they were perfect. Shot to hell.
She looked down at Spike, who looked, for the first time, dead. No movement at all and so, so pale. She sat down on the couch next to him and immediately stood back up. "Gross!" And apparantly so, so unshowered.
She kicked a dangling shin and when she got no response she threw her hands up and turned on the TV. She couldn't leave now anyway. Not until the alarm on her watch went off.
Find it: here. I've given it the tentative name, "Holy". If anyone has other suggestions I'm open.
She stared at him arms crossed, toe tapping, infuriated. She'd planned so carefully, stolen stuff, learned stuff, done stuff! And here he was passed out drunk on the couch, unable to appreciate any of her hard work.
After she had regrouped at the tree that evening she'd dashed home to face whatever great mess was brewing. It really wasn't too bad. Mom gave her the 3rd degree and demanded to see her paper (which she had had the brilliant foresight to include in her backpack--just in case), grumping when she had to reluctantly conceed that perhaps Dawn didn't fritter away her day. Buffy just raised an eyebrow at her when Dawn stuck her tounge out and dashed to her room.
That night she began planning. She knew she'd have to stay away for awhile and that it would be hard, but not as bad as the first time. He'd rejected her yet again, but she knew now that it wasn't because he didn't want her; it was because he felt that he shouldn't. And that was a whole different ballgame.
She started going to The Magic Box with Buffy more often. Sometimes hanging around their little group meetings, but usually she was poking around in all those little nooks and crannies. She started holing away with books, searching for something...and then one day she found it. The solution to her problem. After that her visits consisted of finding things and pocketing them, or practicing small, innocuous spells in the basement. Her sister and her friends ignored her for the most part, discussing stuff about some hell god and a key in confused tones.
He came in one night. She was in the basement but she heard his voice, clear as if he were standing next to her.
"Got a bit of information about those scruffy gits running about."
Her heart dropped into her stomach where it started beating rapidly. Her throat threatened to close up and her body flushed with heat. All from the sound of his voice. She inched up the stairs until she could peer through the bannister without fear of being seen.
Shining white-blonde hair, soft black leather, the walk of a lion on the prowl. He didn't even have to face her, or move to make her pulse with desire. He leaned lazily on a bookcase and flicked open his lighter to light the cigarette between his lips.
"Hey! The only thing we burn in here is incense! Our insurance doesn't cover arson!" Anya dashed over and pulled the cigarette from his mouth.
Dawn watched his eyes narrow and then he finally shrugged. "Fine." He turned away and focused on Buffy, "You interested or not?" It was the way he said it. Like it was more than asking about information, like he was asking her...to fuck him.
Dawn fisted her hands until her nails dug into her palms and felt her face begin to burn. She had to restrain herself from running out and shouting, "He's mine!"
Giles spoke up then, "Why don't we retire to my office and discuss it?"
Spike nodded in acquiesence and followed the older man. When they went in the door and shut it she slumped against the stairs trembling, unshed tears filling her eyes.
A small voice inside her pleaded Is he missing me at all? Why can't he look a little more...hurt, lost...something? Why's he have to look so...good?
She drew a deep breath. It was probably better that he wasn't acting all...weird. Buffy would stake him if she even thought he had done any of the things he had done to her.
She went back down the stairs on shaky legs to continue practicing.
All those nights alone in the basement. All those stinky herbs and spices and...other...things. Those tounge-twisting phrases she repeated over and over and over until they were perfect. Shot to hell.
She looked down at Spike, who looked, for the first time, dead. No movement at all and so, so pale. She sat down on the couch next to him and immediately stood back up. "Gross!" And apparantly so, so unshowered.
She kicked a dangling shin and when she got no response she threw her hands up and turned on the TV. She couldn't leave now anyway. Not until the alarm on her watch went off.
