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DISCLAIMER: Can I keep Spike? Please? *pouts*
SUMMARY: Post-Chosen. Let the light consume the darkness. Let the darkness devour
me. Let me relish the night. Let the night bleed into light...
RATING: R-ish. See? I can do R for Dawn, but the sole thought of writing Xander
doing R-ish deeds... *shudders* Not for me, no sir.
WORDCOUNT: 2270
DEDICATION: For BeautysMuse. Her birthday was some days ago and I had promised her
a Dawn/Spike prezzie. *grins*
LET THE NIGHT BLEED
by Leni
Dawn relishes the freedom of the night. The anonymity she enjoys under little clothes and
heavy make-up, when noone can tell that she's lived with dozens of Slayers and that she
alone had once nearly delivered the end of the world.
The air is warm around her, multicolour lights dancing across her revealed skin. She
giggles as her legs turned rose, then her bare arms become yellow and then... green. Dawn
shudders and stops her dance to ask for another beer. She doesn't like green anymore, it
is the colour of death and nothing can convince her otherwise.
Asking for a glass, she lets her elbows rest on the counter. This party is the best idea
she could have had, but she is beginning to feel a little dizzy. Dawn laughs. Dizzy? Hah.
What she wants is to welcome unconsciousness and wrap it around herself for a year or two.
Maybe forever. She reaches for the cold beer. At the last moment the bartender takes a
look at her and asks for an ID. Dawn sighs. It is never fair, she is almost twenty-three
but still asked for an identification. She retrieves her purse and holds out her ID. The
bartender gives her a doubtful look. Bastard, how could he work her if he couldn't
recognise a minor from... someone *not* a minor? Dawn stops the urge to sneer at him and
instead holds the cold glass in her hands. Ah yes, this is just what she needs.
She drinks her beer slowly, it has to last until someone else invited her to dance.
Finally a guy comes in her direction. Cute, tall and probably in his last years of
college. Blonde and lean. Dawn immediately decides that she'd give a chance. If he is a
good boy and doesn't ask too many questions, she might even let him lead her into a
private place.
He takes her hand and shouts his name. Dawn can't hear him over the music, but it doesn't
matter. She nods with a pleasant smile and doesn't give her name back. He points to the
dance floor and looks at her questioningly. Dawn doesn't roll her eyes, but she tries to
think of a reason to be at a disco and not dance.
"Are you from around here?" the stranger asks later. This time Dawn can
understand him because their bodies are practically glued into each other. She pretends
not to hear the question and rubs herself harder against him. Her arms sneak around his
shoulders. Oh yes, this feels good. Lets her breasts press into his chest. He likes it,
she can tell by the way his breathing is faster and the hands on her waist are a little
harsher.
Dawn smiles. He has forgotten his question. Of course, why would it matter where a girl is
from when her fingertips rub his shoulders slowly, once over his shirt, then seeking the
skin below it. Dawn has learned a lot in the last years, she knows exactly how to move her
legs between his and press... just.. a... little. Her stranger gasps and looks at her
under heavy lashes. "Wanna go somewhere else?" he finally manages to ask, his
blue eyes darkening by the second.
Her hands come to his front, playing over the cloth covering his chest. She grins
wickedly. "No." He stiffens and her smile is wider. "Not yet," she
purrs against his ear. Yes, that trick still works. Dawn can almost feel it as he relaxes
into her.
"You're a strange girl," he sighs.
Dawn nearly laughs at his words. Oh, he doesn't know the half of it.
She feels as his hands slowly go from her waist to cup her butt. She smiles against his
neck and rubs entincingly against his digits. This is too easy, she thinks as a sudden
movement brings her belly direct against his hardness. She shifts consciously against it,
Dawn wants to forget a little tonight and this guy has indeed been a very good boy.
"Do you want to leave?" she asks, licking his neck and biting lightly his soft
skin. He nods. "Convince me," she whispers.
He is eager and she takes advantage of that. His body will become her outlet tonight and
she can make him welcome every second of it. Dawn wants to forget that only six months ago
she was the happpiest woman in the world. She wants to forget the letters which were never
received, the phone calls she never answered. Maybe Dawn was a fool for believing that
they could be more than the 'here and now', but she did believe it. And she was proved a
fool.
Her partner pressed himself tighter against her, stating without words that he wants to
leave. Just as Dawn thinks to take his hand and lead him outside, a large hand grabs her
by the hips and separates her body from her beautiful prey's.
"What the h-" she shrieks. Then she realises who is the owner of the hand and
outrage becomes shocked silence. What is he doing here? Of course, her roommates must have
given her away. Spike could charm any secret out of a person, especially if that person
was one of her romantic roommates.
Good Boy is furious too. Dawn hears him coming against the intruder even as she connects
the dots. "Who are you?" her dance partner asks loud enough that she can hear
him. Dawn could tell him that Spike can hear a whisper if he concentrates, even in this
chaos. But that would arise questions with no logical answers. Dawn never liked those
questions.
Spike hasn't let her go yet, she realises and smiles slowly. She thinks of clinging to him
and pasting her back to his chest, but Good Boy seems infuriated enough and fights aren't
needed. She hates them all, even more when she is the cause. Dawn has already had enough.
"Let me go!"
Spike obeys, but snarls as the boy offers his hand to continue dancing. Dawn refuses it,
the game has ended now that the referee is here. She smirks, this wasn't part of her plan
for oblivion but it'll work. She can make it work. Her smile is so apologetic that Good
Boy only gives a last warning look into Spike's direction and then disappears into the
throng of dancing people.
"What do you want?" she asks, hands on her hips and pretending like crazy that
the light swaggering is only her body moving to the music. She knows he's heard her when
he points to the exit and holds his hand out. Dawn rolls her eyes, sometimes he can be so
predictable. Except for the part where she hadn't been expecting him in this particular
disco, but she can work around that. She has to.
"Can't handle competition?" are her first words once outside. They are thrown
like pointed daggers directly at him, but daggers are metal and he's a vampire. Dawn knows
they won't hurt him.
She is right, of course. Spike just guffaws and points at the abandoned establishment.
"*That* was competition?" He laughs again and Dawn narrows her eyes. Bastard.
"Dawn, that boy was so below me that I'm amazed you even noticed him. Have you no
standards anymore?"
Dawn decides to be offended. Of course she has standards. She likes them young, ready and
definitely alive. So she likes them blonde and blue-eyed too, Dawn has decided long ago
that she had to have stayed with some fetishes after her relationship - or whatever their
time in New York could be called - with this vampire. "Shut up."
This time Spike doesn't obey her. "Come here, stupid girl." He opens his arms to
her, but Dawn can't help but notice that his face would win a prize at a poker game. She
thinks fleetingly that she should be furious by now. She's not stupid. Much less is she a
girl. But she knows - used to know - Spike, and she can tell when his voice has affection
in it.
"Shut up," she says again. This is not making sense. Right now Dawn only wants
to go back to the dance floor, maybe find Good Boy again and this time let him lead her to
his car without even asking. She turns around to do just that, there's enough money in her
purse to be admitted again.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
She laughs. Spike never understood things unless they slapped his pretty face. Oh well,
she has enough desire to slap him into reality. "Find that guy and fuck him until he
can't talk anymore."
Spike dares to smirk. Bastard! "Is he that good in bed, Dawn?" His eyebrow is
cocked, and she canpractically read the disbelief in his expression.
Dawn shrugs. "I'll find out soon enough." She continues her march to the disco's
door.
This time the hands stopping her are at her waist. "You aren't going anywhere,
Dawnie," he hisses against her ear. Damn him, she thinks as she shivers just a bit,
he knows me too well.
How many times had she pleaded for him to use that voice in bed? How many times had Spike
convinced her of - not anymore - unimaginable things just by whispering them against her
lips. She hates him. She certainly hates the nickname he gave her, it makes her feel
sixteen again. "Let go of me!"
"Never." He holds her tighter. "I was a fool when I let you go."
Dawn tells herself that she won't cry. Spilt milk and all that. She had hear her own heart
breaking when Spike'd told her that their - whatever - wasn't working. He'd packed her
bags himself and oh so calmly sent them back to Boston. "I hate you," she
hissed, just as she had shouted across the bus terminal that night. How did he dare take
her to his bed just to throw her away like yesterday's news?
"Come back."
She swirls around to look at him. This very scenario has run across her head many times in
the last weeks. First she had imagined herself with a stake in her hand, Dawn had never
cared where the stake came from, just that it as there to serve its purpose. "I never
cared about you," she had whispered as she dug the wood in his chest.
Of course, those visions were followed by the memories of their time together. How he'd
taken her out when she pleaded enough and how he preferred to stay in his little
apartment, taking care of her. She had loved his version of 'taking care'. She had loved
him.
Dawn is angry with herself as the first tear makes its way down her cheek. "I hate
you," she repeats, to encourage herself to leave his arms. But she can't, and she
tries to be convinced that he's simply holding her too tight. "I hate you. I hate
you. I hate you. You never even told me WHY!"
"Because I was a stupid vampire and you were a stupid girl," he murmurs against
her hair. "What would you tell your sister, huh? That you'd found me in New York and
that we'd spent weeks together? How do you think Buffy would react?"
"I don't care about Buffy," Dawn cries. "But *you* do!"
"Damn it. Listen to me. Buffy is your sister, I-I loved her." The second tear is
quickly followed by a third. "But that feels a millennium ago. Before the soul,
before I died, before I went back to Angel... Everything has changed in so little time.
But only for me. For your sister I'm still the vampire in the school basement, half crazy
and raving about the end of the world. Why would she want her little sister to be with me?
She'd send you to England first, maybe even to Angel's if it meant keeping you from
me."
"I don't care about your motives, Spike. Let me go." She struggles against him
forcefully, recalling every trick she had once learned. But the alcohol in her system
doesn't help.
Spike only tightens his grip. "I don't care either," he finally admits.
Dawn stills.
"Buffy can go to hell for all I care. And the rest of the world with her. I was a
fool when I let you go and I understood everything when I saw you... dancing" The
note of distaste is clear in his voice. Dawn doesn't flinch. He'd been the one to wreck
everything, he'd better deal with the consequences too. "with that guy. I won't lose
you, Dawnie." He kisses her hair. "I won't."
She decides that it is better to run now when the dizzying feeling is still strong enough
to dull her feelings. "I said I don't care. Let me go."
Spike's voice acquired a desperate note. "Once you told me you loved me."
Dawn holds back a sob. It was true, just two days before she'd found her bags neatly
packed on the end of his bed.
"Do you still?"
Dawn keeps silent and instead tries to pry herself from the vampire's arms.
"Do you?" Spike insists and she understood he wouldn't let her go until she gave
an answer.
"I-I---" I don't know, she wants to say. I'm confused and this is confusing me
even more! But she doesn't voice any of those things, instead continuing stammering in
search for the appropriate reply.
But Spike was never known for his patience. He watches her reactions carefully and reads
in her eyes his answer.
Then he finally kisses her.
The End
21/12/03
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