Dawn's eyes darted around the room, as if looking for an escape route. She thought about lamely insisting that the trip was solely devoted to visiting colleges, but then feared that the evasion would only further anger the impatient vampire.
Dusting her hands on her despised plaid skirt, Dawn rose from the counter. Spike watched closely for a sign that the agitated schoolgirl was about to break and run, but instead, her blue eyes fixed on the empty space in front of her, and she began to wear a path in the carpet as she searched for an answer to his question.
Dawn's chance at catching Spike off-guard, at seducing him before his recollections of her little-girl persona came rushing back, was now gone—first by her own emotional outburst and later by her sister's ill-timed call, reminiscent of all those times Spike had been called on to search for the errant adolescent or babysit the mystical being trapped in the awkward body of a fourteen-year-old. After several minutes of pacing, wherein, Dawn's internal debate was apparent on her face, Spike had to school the grin that was forming at the corners of his mouth, as he saw himself in the agitated pacing of his young friend.
When the need to track Dawn's movements ceased, and she turned to face him, Spike searched Dawn's face expectantly, hoping that she would truthfully explain the motivation behind her sudden appearance at his doorstep.
Dawn straightened her shoulders though meeting Spike's gaze still proved difficult. She blew out the trapped breath she had been holding to let fresh air rush to her lungs and give voice to her revelation. Spike's stomach tightened at the look of resignation on her face.
Dawn finally decided that the truth would be best at this point, even if it meant Spike would send her away, repulsed by what she was about to suggest.
"The truth—the truth is…," she stammered, "Is that I'm eighteen and still a virgin…," a rush of blood colored Dawn's cheeks at the admission, her voice strained at the confession, "but I don't want to be…."
***
Spike could feel the Slayer's kick to his gut as if she were right there and not thousands of miles away in Italy. ('But then, of course, stranger things have happened,' Spike wryly thought.) If the vampire's face could've blanched any whiter, it easily would have done so, as the shock of Dawn's request echoed in Spike's ears. The unannounced visit, revealing clothes, dark make-up—all those incongruous pieces slid into place as Spike's open mouth brought forth no audible words.
Dawn quickly interpreted Spike's silence as a refusal, and tears of regret started to well in her eyes as she scanned the room for the location of the knapsack that Spike had earlier scooted inside the doorway.
"I'm sorry, I know I sound absolutely pathetic," Dawn's sobs again began to choke out her words, "So stupid…can't believe I thought you'd actually…," Dawn swiped at the tears, blinding her attempt to locate her scant belongings and exit the apartment with some sliver of dignity still intact. Finally locating the leather satchel, she bent to hoist it to her shoulder, but a flash of vampire and a strong hand releasing her fingers from the strap stayed her movements.
"You're not going anywhere but to bed pretty soon," Spike replied as he took Dawn's hands in his own, a hint of authority in his voice.
Dawn's tearful, puzzled expression sought a further explanation.
"To rest," Spike explained flatly, "You've travelled thousands of miles, all on your own, only a soddin' frozen pizza to eat," Spike's guilt at having bollixed up Dawn's return was rising to the surface.
Even in what she perceived as her disgrace, Dawn persisted, "I meant what I said, Spike. I've thought about this a lot." Though she felt the vampire would never consent to her request, Dawn still wanted Spike to know that her plans to lose her virginity were not brought on by a long journey or emotional reunion. Hunger? Well, maybe yes, but not one sated with a crummy frozen pizza.
Spike recognized that look of impending rejection—he had worn it many times himself over the years—with Cecily, Dru, Buffy… he understood only too well the pain that accompanied offering yourself up to someone, only to have those feelings thrown back in your face, and generally stomped into tiny pieces as the assailant saw fit.
Though Buffy would always hold a place in Spike's heart, he had made peace with the choices that each of them had made. The Council's prejudices had been so well-ingrained in the young slayer that she could never quite accept Spike as he was—always needing him to be something different, something outside his nature, until at last, all he had left to give was his very unlife.
Dawn, however, was different from her sister. Even when she was younger, Dawn wholeheartedly accepted Spike—listening with rapt attention as he retold the most horrific tales, not minding that he smoke, drank or swore, eagerly clinging to him when she jumped on the back of his motorcycle—Dawn was never disingenuous when it came to Spike. And though she was quick to rush to her sister's defense, even Buffy finally admitted her fault in the events that would lead to Spike seeking the restoration of his soul.
Spike studied Dawn's face as his thumbs brushed away her tears, and while, yes, the lively, energetic, even sometimes petulant young girl still lingered there, he also saw the weariness of battle, the defiance against prejudiced authority, and the loneliness of losing family and friends. How long had it been since she had been held, comforted, cared for? Months? A year? Spike knew that before anything else might happen between them, Dawn needed to be held, to be listened to, to be wanted. With uncharacteristic patience, Spike responded to Dawn's request.
"I know you've thought about it," Spike said softly, lifting Dawn's chin with one hand as he smoothed her hair with the other. "I'm not telling you 'no,'" Spike breathed out softly, a hopeful sparkle returning to Dawn's glistening eyes, "But I'm also not going to jump into bed with you right away, either," he explained, his arms wrapping around Dawn's trembling form.
At Spike's stalemate, the hint of a childish pout formed on Dawn's lips.
"I'm gonna' get it," Spike teased softly, his blunt teeth lightly toying with the protruding flesh until a genuine smile came to Dawn's face, her eyes washed of the grief that had troubled her. Spike's cool lips brushed tenderly against Dawn's.
"That's my girl," Spike sighed as the corners of Dawn's mouth rose and her eyes would once again meet his own. "Come here," Spike led Dawn by the hand to his couch. He lay down, his blond head contrasting sharply against the black arm of the sofa, pulling Dawn down to join him, her head resting on his bare chest.
"Here," Spike wriggled a bit to snake his hands in between their bodies, deftly untying the knot in Dawn's blouse and unfastening two buttons at the bottom.
Wondering if Spike had so quickly changed his mind, Dawn gave him a questioning look.
"Just gonna' rub your back a bit—wound up tighter than Peaches with a Playboy, you are," Spike explained off-handedly at Dawn's groaning laugh and tacit permission. Spike reached behind to unfasten the wide, scratchy contraption of hooks and eyes at Dawn's back.
"Jeez, it's like some medieval torture device," Spike complained at the harsh snap of the unforgiving elastic and rough fabric, "Not that I was around that far back, mind you, but Angelus did keep a few family heirlooms around, just for fun."
Dawn giggled as she rose a bit to slip her arms out of the loosened straps and with a sigh of relief, pulled the hateful, binding garment away from underneath her blouse. "There," she chucked the awful 'nunderwear' as she called it, onto the floor, swearing to never don the despised brassiere again.
Once her nipples hit the cool air, they hardened and puckered underneath her white cotton blouse that remained attached by the single button between her breasts. Adjusting the fabric so it wouldn't be trapped beneath her, Dawn lay back down, Spike's cool skin soothing her over-heated frame.
"I'm thinking a trip to the mall is on the agenda for tomorrow," chuckled Spike, his hands slipping beneath the back of Dawn's blouse to draw soothing strokes against her weary flesh.
"That sounds like a plan," Dawn concurred. "Tomorrow night, then?" she queried.
"Whenever you want, Nibblet," Spike offered, a befuddled Dawn looking up for an explanation.
"S' long as there's an attached parking garage, we're good to go," Spike continued, then figured he needed to confess the only *slightly* criminal part of the story.
"Before the big showdown with the senior partners and all their goons," Spike recounted with a guilty sigh, "I may have had the foresight to procure some of the more *valuable*automobiles from the Wolfram and Hart garage, and seeing as the whole place came down in a soddin' heap anyway," Spike rationalized, "I thought I might hang onto one, sell the others when I needed a bit of dosh. Vamp-safe glass comes in pretty handy here in Southern California and all," Spike waggled his eyebrows as Dawn grinned.
"Sounds like a perfectly reasonable plan to me," Dawn agreed, settling back down again, eager for Spike's hands to return to their task.
"So what schools are you planning to check into?" Spike led into gently, taking a rather roundabout route back to their earlier discussion. Spike's hands gently glided against Dawn's skin, hoping to soothe as she continued with her difficult explanation.
"UCLA, USC, maybe Loyola…not really sure just yet," Dawn listed, squirming a bit as she nestled in a little further, the remaining button of her blouse popping open at the movement. Though Dawn did not make mention of the welcomed accident, she dotted a small kiss against Spike's cool chest as she reveled in the extra contact.
Not wanting to break the mood, but needing to learn why Dawn had chosen to come to him, Spike continued in the same smooth, honeyed voice, the movement of his hands nearly hypnotic against Dawn's back.
"So why not wait to meet some nice, normal bloke at one of these schools, Bit? Bumble along…figure it out together?" Spike inquired, though it pained him to do so. "Not that anyone would ever be good enough for my Nibblet, mind you," he added, mumbling under his breath.
Dawn turned her head to plant a firm kiss in the middle of Spike's chest in response.
"Well, there is the fact that I am a thousand-year-old mystical Key—a green, bouncing ball of energy that was shoved into the body of a flat-chested fourteen-year-old, complete with totally fabricated childhood memories," Dawn retorted with a wry smile, raising up to meet Spike's gaze, her forearms stretched across his chest.
Spike's eyebrow arched and a sardonic smile crossed his lips as Dawn's shift in position pushed her blouse to each side, her nipples now thrusting their dimpled flesh against Spike's chest. The full roundness of her breasts swelled into view now that Dawn's blouse had slipped away. Trying to maintain his composure, even though his jeans were growing increasingly tight, Spike attempted to stay on topic.
"Bit, thought we settled this a long time ago—course you're a real girl—seen you cry, seen you break, seen you bleed," Spike drew long strands of hair behind Dawn's ear, his words filled with tenderness. He just couldn't help himself when a small smile crossed his face.
"And the flat-chested thing--not so much to worry about any more," Spike teased, his forefinger tracing gently along the outer edge of her breast, eliciting a pleased smile from Dawn. Sheepishly, Spike added, "Personally, m' kinda glad that your earliest memories of me aren't exactly real," the vampire grimaced, "not too proud that your mum had to whack me with an axe and all that." His face bore the resemblance of a young boy who had trod mud all over the kitchen floor or broken a favorite vase with an errant baseball.
Exhaling a small, exasperated sigh, Dawn explained, "I know I'm real," Dawn traced random paths against Spike's skin as she continued, "But, how can I possibly explain my history, my childhood to someone new? I mean, what kind of person would actually believe me?" Dawn scoffed in self-deprecation.
"You don't have to tell all your secrets, you know," Spike suggested.
"And then whatever we had would be based on a lie," Dawn insisted, her hands curling into fists.
"What if I did get married, had kids…and some evil hell god shows up again looking for the Key? What then?" Dawn's exasperation with her potential fate threatened to get the better of her once again.
"Ok…shh, sweetheart…I understand…," Spike soothed, his hands increasing his efforts on her taut back.
"I tried to date back in high school—had to stake the first guy I kissed," Dawn reminded wryly, "Was nearly suicidal over the next one cause of some stupid spell—then had to end up fighting over him with my sister," she smacked her forehead against Spike's chest and rolled it back and forth at the unpleasant memory.
Spike looked on with sympathetic humor as he stroked Dawn's hair.
"Then, of course, between the monks and the nuns, no one seemed particularly interested in my sexual development," Dawn groaned, face-down in Spike's chest.
Spike had to fight the urge to laugh at Dawn's antics.
Clearing his throat to disguise a chuckle, Spike suggested, "Maybe one of the younger Watchers then?"
"Mmm…yeah, that's what my sister thought, too. Wanna' take a wild guess at who she suggested?" Dawn's voice dripped with sarcasm and knowing suggestion.
"Oh, she didn't…," Spike responded with incredulity tempered with the knowledge that his ex-girlfriend totally lacked any sense of gay-dar.
"Mr. Tales of the Vampyre himself," Dawn nodded in grudging acceptance of her sister's limitations and lack of judgment.
Their shared laughter died into a sigh of understanding.
"I was never exactly destined for normal, Spike," Dawn said softly, her blue eyes seeking his.
"I know," Spike nodded, raking Dawn's long, dark hair down her back, knowing that between her long journey and emotional evening, it was time to start winding things down. "How about…you borrow one of my tee shirts, grab you a nice, hot shower, I'll find myself some sweatpants to sleep in, and we'll watch a little Letterman in the bedroom?"
"Sounds very nice," Dawn beamed.
"But first things first, though," Spike hinted with a mischievous gleam in his eye, and with vampiric speed, he flipped them over, his weight pressed deliciously against Dawn's frame. Eyes alight with happiness, Spike surprised Dawn as his lips crashed down onto hers. His tongue slipped between Dawn's lips, tasting, exploring, promising Dawn that her hopes had not been cast in vain.
Flushing and breathless, Dawn was finally forced to break the kiss as her lungs burned for oxygen. Her wide smile was a priceless sight for the vampire who had seen more pain than he cared to count.
The vampire's bright blue eyes twinkled as he simply said, "Welcome home."
