Waiting...
Chapter 3
Pairing: Dawn/Spike (eventually)
Warnings: None (this chapter)
Rating: Safe/PG (this chapter)
Summary: Dawn’s not in a happy place, she's spiralling out of control because Buffy isn't in a healthy place either.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the BtVS characters. I am just dressing them up and making them play around a bit. It's free for all to enjoy, and fun - please don't sue.
The most recent updates to this story can be found at:
http://c-woodhaven.livejournal.com/
Feedback/Concrit is totally welcome.
Chapter 3
“Don’t even think about it, Nibblet,” Spike said without turning around.
Dawn froze, caught in the act of sliding her lighter out of her pocket with one hand, and an illicit cigarette between the fingers of the other, “What, you’re the Surgeon General now?”
Spike stopped and turned around, taking a drag off his own cigarette, “You arguing with me?”
“You smoke. What do you care if I do?” she grumbled, but she made no move to light up.
He just looked at her.
“Fine!” she sighed exasperatedly.
Spike held his hand out to her, “Give ‘em up.” She sighed again, and dropped the unlit cigarette from her hand. Sliding the rest of the pack out of her book bag, she handed it to him.
They walked in silence for a few moments, then Spike said, “Sorry to hear about your mum. She was a fine lady.”
Dawn’s throat tightened and she barely squeaked out the word, “Thanks.”
“That why you’re channeling your inner Courtney Love?”
“What? No! Well, I don’t know, maybe,” she answered, then said indignantly, “Wait, you think I look skanky?” She was mortified. “Please tell me that you did not just call me skanky.”
He laughed, “No, just meant you got your wild on, ‘s all.” He stopped and looked at her appraisingly, “Wild’s a good look for you.”
She felt her skin flush at the compliment, but she couldn’t help grinning like an idiot.
“Okay, Kitten, this is our stop,” and he flicked his cigarette down the tunnel impossibly far. Turning sideways he slipped through a large fissure in the concrete wall.
Dawn was still smiling when she squeezed through herself.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She sat cross-legged on Spike’s bed, staring intently at the pencil. It twitched a bit, but wouldn’t rise.
“See, I’m just not very good,” she said dejectedly. He’d asked about her spell books, and how she was doing with her casting.
Spike was lying on his side across from her, the impudent pencil between them.
“You’re too tense. Come here,” he said rising, motioning her to sit in front of him.
She nervously picked up the pencil and shifted so she was sitting with her back to him. “Here?” she asked.
“Scoot back a bit,” he instructed, so she squirmed back some more.
His back was now resting against the headboard. He had his legs splayed out and she was now firmly wedged between them. She had no idea how this was going to make her relax. Her heart was pounding, and her palms were starting to sweat. She really hoped Spike didn’t notice as she tried to wipe them off discreetly on her jeans.
She crossed her legs again and put the pencil down in front of her.
“Interesting color choice,” he said fingering her hair. Then he gathered it into a bunch and draped it over her shoulder so it now hung down her front. “Why’d you pick it?”
She hesitated, “When I was little, my mom used to read me stories about these fairies. They’d go around the forest and rescue the little animals and have adventures. Periwinkle was my favorite; she was the smallest one, but she had the best powers, she could talk to the flowers and trees and make them grow because she loved them so much. Anyway…” she broke off, shrugging.
“What happened to your mum? Vampires?” he asked.
“No. It was stupid. Just a stupid tumor, then complications,” she shrugged miserably.
“It gets easier over time,” he said “but it will always hurt.”
“Did your mom die, you know, before you?” she asked. With her back to him, she missed the strange look that skittered across his face.
“No, it was after. But I still think about her sometimes,” he said. Then he put his hands on her shoulders, and started rubbing them gently. She inhaled sharply, and felt herself tense. “Relax, ‘Bit, I’m not going to hurt you.”
She tried to relax, she really did, but he was right there and touching her. She knew he didn’t mean anything by it, that he was just trying to help, but it was unnerving having him this intimate. She was getting all kinds of knots in her stomach and tingles even lower.
“Don’t think about me, just think about your pencil,” he said softly.
At least he hadn’t seemed to notice she was totally crushing on him. She took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the pencil. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Not even a wiggle.
“I suck,” she sighed exasperatedly. “I should just give up.”
“Don’t say that. You’re just not properly motivated. Do you have to use the pencil?” he asked.
“No. It’s just what Willow started with. I guess I thought that’s where I should start.”
“You’re not Willow,” he said flatly.
She was crushed. He thought she sucked too. She was glad that her back was to him, so he couldn't see the misery that she knew was evident on her face.
He still must have noticed a change in her, because he squeezed her shoulders and said. “I bollixed that up. Just meant you need something that suits you, not Willow. Wait a mo’.” He released her shoulders, and leaned his upper body over to the table next to the bed. He rummaged inside the drawer for something.
His maneuver caused him to crush his legs up against her so he could keep his balance and made her flush again. Then he was righting himself again.
“How ‘bout you practice with this. If you float it, you can have it,” he reached around her and held out a necklace with a pendant almost the size of a silver dollar.
It was beautiful, and obviously very old. The pendant was four clear, teardrop shaped stones, surely not diamonds, with their points centered around a circular blue stone in a cross pattern. Not a cross cross pattern, because obviously no flame-age, but like an x tipped up on one leg.
“I can’t take this, Spike. It’s too…” nice for someone like me, was what she wanted to say.
“Not like I’m giving it to you. You gotta earn it,” she felt him shrug. “If you can’t, no loss, I can pawn it for a few quid.”
The thing was, she did want it, no matter what she told him. If she’d seen it in a shop, she’d have pocketed it. She took it from his hand and placed it on the bed, tossing that stupid pencil off the side of the bed.
“Now, close your eyes,” Spike said, “and breathe.” He brought his hands up and began rubbing her shoulders again.
And so she did. She lost herself in the swish-in, swish-out of her own breath, and the gentle soothing pressure of his strong hands. She felt herself in a state of relaxation she had been unable to attain before. She was no longer worried if she could cast the spell, in fact it seemed almost childishly easy. She relaxed into the spell, instead of concentrating on it and opened her eyes. The pendant was floating about a foot in front of her face – chain swaying gently beneath it.
“Knew you could do it,” Spike murmured softly.
His words almost broke her concentration; the pendant dipped for a second, then righted itself. She practiced moving around a bit, tentatively at first, then using more dramatic movements, until she brought it gently back to the bed.
She picked it up with her hand, marveling that she had actually moved it. “I did it,” she whispered wonderingly to herself.
“Here, let me,” Spike took the necklace out of her hand, and undid the clasp. Then he was reaching around her and affixing it around her neck. He gently arranged her hair so it was back to normal, hanging down her back . Every touch of his hand in her hair gave her goose bumps. When he finished, he said, “Let's see it.”
She scooted off the end of the bed and stood up.
“Beautiful,” he said, and even though she knew he didn’t think of her that way, the way he said it made her feel beautiful.
She walked over to the cheap wall mirror she’d placed in the corner months ago, and admired the necklace. It really was beautiful.
Spike walked up and placed a hand on her lower back for just a second. She tried to ignore the way it made her skin almost sizzle, even though his skin was so much cooler. She didn't know what she wanted more, for him to stop touching her so much, or to never stop touching her. He made her dizzy.
“Sun’s set by now, want me to walk you?” he said softly much too close to her ear.
“Um, yeah…” she said, coming out of her daze, turning to look at him. She smiled, “Thanks.”
“Nothing to thank me for,” he said giving her a half smile.
“No, really, thanks. For today. For everything.” It was the first really good day she could remember.
They took the tunnels until she was only a couple of blocks from home. She wouldn’t let him walk with her the rest of the way, even though he offered. She was afraid that Buffy or someone might see him.
She felt amazing. Even Buffy’s absence from the house, hours after she was supposed to be home, wasn’t enough to bring her down. She fell asleep with the weight of the pendant comforting beneath her night shirt.
End Chapter 3
~tbc