Dirty Little Secrets

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own anyone. Just this story.

Summary: Spike and Dawn share a moment in a closet. Takes place between seasons five and six.

The utility closet in the Summers's home was just big enough to fit a still too thin vampire and a coltish young girl, their bodies touching as they sat together under the weak light of the bare bulb.

"You sure about this, Nibblet?" Spike asked in a whisper, his eyes looking bruised and vulnerable as if he expected to be laughed at and rejected.

Dawn nodded and licked her lips nervously. "I-I want you to teach me." It was intimidating, being here with someone with so much experience, especially when she had none. At the same time, she knew she had the power. She could hurt him, and there was nothing he could do about it. The scary badass vampire who guarded her was now completely at her mercy.

"Right then, let's get to it," he said, taking a deep, unneeded and shuddery breath to fortify himself. "You tell no one about this, got it? Not one bloody peep."

She nodded and handed him her notebook and pencil. He took the writing implement in his left hand and began making tidy little notes on her amateur poetry as he explained about different techniques.

"Now, iambic pentameter really init the best place to start. You should get comfortable with couplets first, or some good a-a-b-b-a. Maybe get in a bit of haiku if you want to play about with syllable count. You got to get comfortable with letting your feelings out before you worry about setting up a rhythm. You gettin' all this, bit?"

He relaxed a little more at her enthusiastic nod and tapped the pencil against one of her lines. She'd apparently given up on iambic pentameter by that point and was clearly playing with rhyming and words. And the glorious night sky/ Like a blooming rhododendron in mine eye.

"Nice bit of imagery there, but you're trying a mite too hard. Unless you've a secret passion for nighttime gardening, this comes across as pretentious twaddle." He patted her knee and flashed her a reassuring smile as she blushed in embarrassment. "No worries, love, I used to do the same all the time. 'S'part of finding your voice, yeah?"

"So… how do I fix it?"

"Don't focus so much on the words, pet. Focus on what's inside. What you want to s-"

He was cut off by the closet door suddenly opening, the blonde witch somehow silent enough to sneak up on him. Need to bell that bird, he thought as he dropped the poetry notebook like a hot potato and started babbling.

"And that, Nibblet, is how you snog a boy. Or a girl if you decide to go that route. But," he shook his finger at the dumbfounded Dawn, "no snoggin' anyone of any gender until you're at least forty-five, hear?"

He glanced up at Tara to see if she was buying it. The smile she was trying to fight off indicated a big fat "no." She silently reached up to the shelf at the top of the closet and grabbed a lightbulb before raising a brow and bending to pick up the notebook.

"Don't worry, Spike," she said, her eyes twinkling as she handed it to him, "I'm gay, so there's no way I'm going to force anyone else out of a closet."

She closed the door, leaving the vampire and teenager alone to stare at each other in awkward silence. "'Snogging' lessons?" Dawn finally asked, laughter in her voice.

Spike scowled and looked down. "Hush, you, or I'll tell 'em all about your burning love of rhododendrons."

Dawn just giggled and picked up the fallen pencil so they could return to the ins and outs of poetry in a closet.