The Blossoming Dawn

Chapter Eight

Spike woke with the first rays of dawn. He opened his eyes slowly and zipped up his pants. Remembering how he had been so aroused at one of Dawn’s diary entries—that he had to jerk off.

The diary!

He picked it up from the floor and set it down on the small table in front of the couch. He had to read more.

He felt a rumble in his stomach—a churning—he needed blood.

He stood up slowly walking over to his fridge and removing a large glass of pig’s blood. He put it in the microwave and impatiently tapped his foot—eager for it to be done. So he could get back to Dawn’s diary.

It beeped and he withdrew the glass guzzling it down, feeling already the new strength it gave him.

He tossed set it on the counter and hastily walked back over to the sofa. His eyes stared intently down at the small pink book. Dawn’s diary.

He felt a hint of guilt but he knew that would not stop him. He would read every single page. He had to.

He picked it up opening it to where he had left off—his eyes lingered on one paragraph of the last entry and again he imagined his Dawnie’s panties wet with her juices—finding release just thinking about him---dreaming about him. A small smile came to his lips as he forced his eyes to settle on the beginning of the fifth entry.

Dear Diary,

Today was horrible! I am such an idiot! I was in the hallway at school and this boy came up to me and smiled—so I smiled back, then he asked me if I had a boyfriend and I said no. And he asked me if I wanted one and without thinking--like the dork I am and because I was so nervous. I quickly said ‘no’ again! I can’t believe it! He got this angry, embarrassed look in his eye and walked away.

Why am I such an idiot!? So when I saw him again in class every one was giggling and I didn’t know why then I found out from Janice that the boy had made a nickname for me..

Dawn the Prude

God! I never want to go back to school. I’m so lame—I’m such a dork. And its true too—I am a prude. I’ve never even kissed a boy! I’ve never been on a date or anything….sometimes I wish I wish that I was never born.

Then again I wasn’t born. I was a ball of energy—a freak. And I’m still a freak. A prude, stupid little loser…

Maybe I’ll feel better after me and buffy go to the movies. She promised we’d go at five. I can’t wait! We don’t get to spend much time together…guess its ‘cause she’s The Slayer and all.

Well gotta get ready to go to the movies with Buffy! Yay!
I’ll write more later…maybe :)

Spike was saddened at Dawn’s words—he couldn’t imagine how she could think of herself as a loser or a freak. She was the most beautiful creature ever created—an angel fallen from the sky.

He didn’t know why she was so hard on herself and he was glad she wasn’t like the other girls she went to school with. Being prude—chaste was nothing to be ashamed of. Anger boiled in his veins. How dare some little whelp make her feel bad about not being a whore!

He clenched the book, turning the page his eyes fell on another entry and it was dated the same day.

Dear Diary,

I feel so bad. Buffy cancelled the movie night. She said that she had to patrol ‘cause there’s some new big bad or something. I guess it’s selfish of me to be angry with her when what she does is so selfless. But I can’t help it. I’m not really angry I’m just hurt. She never seems to have time for me. Sometimes I think that maybe I just get in the way. Maybe things would have been better if I had died up there on that tower.

Buffy has so much pressure on her what with slaying vampires and saving the world every week and I just add more stress making her look after an annoyance like me.

Sometimes I wish I could go back and jump into that portal. I wonder if I would be happier lost in some dimension. I wonder if maybe Buffy would be happier not having to put up with me..

I don’t know. Sometimes I look in the mirror and all I see is some insignificant freak. No one cares about me. I know they try to pretend to be interested in what’s going on in my boring little life, but they’re not. They don’t care about my first date or what my favorite color is or my hopes and dreams. Everything else gets in the way. Everything else is always more important.

Really I don’t have any hopes or dreams. Well at least not of future careers and getting married—having children. But I do have one hope, one dream that aches inside me. I do have one thing I hope and wish and dream for. One thing that fills my head, my heart, my dreams at night. Spike.
I know it’s sad and pathetic but I think of him constantly. His smile, his eyes, his face, his lips—even his frowny face.
I ache to have him hold me, kiss me, take me away from everything.

But most of all I ache for him to love me. For someone to truly love me. To want know who I am—the real me. I want him so bad it hurts. It hurts my chest and I cry sometimes at night. I love him. I don’t know why I do but I really love him.
I know that it’s horrible and wrong and sick but I love him, I love everything about him. I love his dry humor, how smart he is, how he has a poet’s soul but he tries to cover it up with a macho man act. I love the way his eyes sparkle when he’s feeling peaceful and his eyes burn when he’s angry.
I love that he’s the only one who’s so nice to me and treats me like a real person.

Its so pathetic though, he’ll never return my feelings. No one will ever truly love me.
No one cares enough to try…
I got to go to bed—I’m tired
I’ll write more later…maybe :(

Spike’s eyes burned, stung with tears. He never knew his bit was so sad inside. He never knew she noticed how much Buffy ignored her as well as the Scooby gang—he had. And he hated and despised every one of them for it.

Her words scrolled through his head. He felt searing guilt burn through him. Not for invading her privacy, but for being too blind, too stupid to notice how much she cared for him. Too much of a jackass to notice the longing in her eyes.

He was too stupid to notice that when she would look at him before there was always some indiscernible look that sparkled in her eyes. But he could never quite decipher what it meant. What it was.

Now he knew it was pure longing, love—love brimming in his snow angel’s eyes. Love for him a horrible, evil creature unworthy of such a gift.

He grew angry with himself. How could he have not seen it before? How could he be so blind?

She wasn’t blind though he thought as he remembered her words.

She took note of everything about him, his poet’s soul and how he always tried to mask it with some tough guy act. She even noticed that his eyes sparkled when he was feeling at peace—and it was true.

As he read her words over and over he came to a realization.

He was like Dawn. He was so shocked that she noticed little things about him, that she cared so much. That she had ached for him and her heart had swelled with love for him. He couldn’t imagine such a thing.

Because he like her, had never truly been loved by anyone.

He didn’t think he could be.

A small smile came to his lips and he spoke aloud, voice soft.

“We need each other, bit.”

Suddenly he gave a start of his body as he heard a pounding on his door. He quickly shoved the diary under a couch cushion and walked to the door. Smelling her there…