CrossingShadowRiver 27/28 by dutchbuffy2305

Rating: R

Timeline: About ten years after season 5 of AtS; sequel of sorts to Crossing into UnchippedTerritory

Author's note: Thanks to my dear betas, ayinhara & mommanerd.

Author's website: http:home.planet.nl/dutchbuffy2305

Feedback: Yes, please, to

The bell rings. Dawn looks down on the lilac cashmere sweater she's carefully folding, and then at herself, unbreakfasted and unshowered, still in her oldest jammies and a great big ugly shirt for warmth. Great. She kinda thinks she knows who's ringing that doorbell, and this is not the get-up she'd like him to see her in. That imagined get-up involved something like killer boots and a whip, and several drinks behind her belt, not flannel and an empty stomach but

The bell rings for the second time, insistent now, and Dawn straightens up from her packing. Her gut tells her this really is Spike, in spite of the daylight hour. She'd prefer to ignore it, but her curiosity and indignation are stronger than her caution. She opens the door and jerks when she sees him, not from surprise but some other emotion she thought she'd left behind.

"Spike." It comes out dull and hopeless. "What are you doing here? I never wanted to see you again."

"Came to apologize, bit," he says.

He looks better than the last time she saw him, when he'd seemed exhausted and wrung out from all he'd been going through. He's sleek and well fed, relaxed, a new glow about him, freshly bleached and laundered. That would be the joys of fatherhood and lots of make-up sex, she assumes. He certainly doesn't look alike a man who's been kicked out by his girlfriend because he shagged her sister. That was the one scenario she was still kind of hoping for, but she's so not gonna ask about him and Buffy.

She could just shut the door in his face and try to forget all about it. Instead, she shuffles aside, just enough to let him pass.

"Apologizing is good, but I can't see how you could ever make it up to me." She won't look him in the eye and her voice sounds flat in her own ears. "You really hurt me, Spike. Making me think for a few moments there was something between us, and then kicking me out. That was really cruel."

"I'm sorry."

There's a silence. Spike runs a hand through his hair, disturbing the neatly gelled waves. She used to do that all the time when she was still a kid, ruining his hair in spite of his protests. It was a running gag between them, back in those halcyon days when Buffy was dead. Oops

"How - how are you physically? I must have hurt you badly. I feel awful about that."

"Physically?" Dawn says. "What do you mean? I had some zipper marks on my legs but that was it. Why do you think you hurt me?"

Spike seems taken aback. "I thought – I bruised your breasts - it's been haunting me."

Dawn gives him a wry grin. "Glad to know some part of me's been haunting you. No, really, you hardly touched me. Which would be worse, I guess."

That just brings back the question of what zone Spike was in when he was fucking her. Those half-heard things he mumbled, the faraway look on his face. Not with her, but she knew that already.

Spike swallows. "Oh."

His eyes rest on her breasts like a hand. It's a good thing they are hidden beneath the check flannel shirt and her baggy pajamas. Although it might have been nice if she'd been wearing underwear as extra armor. She has a feeling she's gonna need it.

He shuffles his feet and jams his hands in his pockets.

"Well."

"So," Dawn says, and she feels a spark of something getting hotter and brighter. It's anger. At least, she hopes it is. "This is it? Apology and goodbye? You made a mistake, Buffy gave you hell, you say sorry and just wanna go on with life and forget about it?"

"Not all of it. Wanted to make it up to you, pet," he says softly, his face averted.

Dawn's mind flies to the only kind of making up she'd like him to do to her, but he can't mean that, can he? She looks at him steadily, until he looks up and the message from his eyes is clear now. She feels herself flush and her hands tremble. She breathes faster but doesn't make a move, continuing to stare at him. He wouldn't really.

Spike does one step towards her, but he still keeps his hands in his pockets. It's up to her to take the gift he offers or not, she guesses.

"Up to you, Dawnie. Just the once, never to be repeated, never to be spoken of. If you think it'll make it better."

Dawn laughs harshly. "Are you out of you mind, Spike? A pity fuck from a guy who never wanted me? Just great."

Spike looks back at her. "Not never, Dawn. Just - choosing to be with Buffy, is all."

Her mouth opens. Her lips are dry. This is lunacy. What gave him this ridiculous notion that she'd want this? That doing her again would make it right?

"Why the sudden honesty? Laying your obligations to rest, so to speak. Not very romantic or appealing."

"At least you know that now, Nibblet," Spike says. "Makes all the difference. But your choice. I'll finish what I started, if you want me to. Least I can do."

Dawn clasps her shaking hands together, so he won't notice how wigged and excited she is, but then she remembers it's Spike, the vampire. Who knows everything about her just by the temperature of her skin and her heartrate, and can even smell that she's creaming her panties right now. If she were wearing any, that is.

Spike shifts his balance to his other foot and holds out his hand, a gesture so sexy and just him that Dawn lets all her carefully nurtured anger and objections fly and takes the offered hand. Her knees are knocking together from arousal, she feels hot and weak and flushed all over. Just one kiss, that won't be so bad? Just one sweet kiss and then she'll send him home to Buffy. One kiss because she's loved him for such a long time, she deserves that, doesn't she?

Dawn closes her eyes when Spike's lips touch hers, so she won't be too overwhelmed by all that blue-eyed beauty, the cheekbones, the all-over hotness, but when she puts her arms around him, she can't help noticing how taut his ass is, and how big a bulge is prodding into her belly. He's just so good at this, he tastes like essence of forbidden fruit, tangy and smoky and coppery. Oh Spike.

They've landed on her bed, somehow, she must have blanked out for part of the journey there, and she knows she only promised herself one kiss, but technically this is still the first one, right? Their lips haven't been apart since the first touch and she can't help herself, she keeps eating those lips, that tongue, even his teeth and his gums need to be tasted, explored.

Her jammies don't put up much of a struggle and Dawn cries out when he sucks at her nipples and nips at the underside of her breasts. This is just like she dreamed, not the other time, which as a little bit too scary and rough, this is just right. Spike licks his way down her belly, and she's sodden down there, embarrassingly so, but Spike doesn't seem to think that's wrong at all. He shoves a few fingers inside her and licks them off. The look on his face that makes her heart do flip flops, cartwheeling backwards and forwards and she could probably walk up walls and do somersaults too.

The sensations keep tumbling over one another, cool tongue on her clit, cold fingers twisting her nipple, rough curls against the palm of her hand. Vaguely far away a button on her shirt presses into her back, a stripe of sunlight on the carpet points its finger towards her warningly.

He looks up to her, eyes veiled, pink lips shiny with her juices. Dawn's heart is drawn upwards and lodges in her throat. It hurts. His look is full of love and a kind of surrender, and she could so take him right now. She knows with sudden clarity she could have him. She has the power to take something away from him right now, and he'd never get it back. She could own him, or an even bigger piece than she already owns. He wouldn't leave Buffy, not immediately, but they could have a thing for the rest of their lives, sneaking off at weddings and Christmas to have their secret fucks, sneaky phone calls, lewd e-mails.

The attraction of this power is overwhelming. Spike can't say no to her, no more than he can to Buffy or anyone he truly loves. He loves so well, this vampire, but not very wisely. Wise would have been not to go near her, not to love her against his best intentions.

It's clear that she is much wiser than this man who's a hundred years her senior, who falls headlong into traps of love and has no clue how to get out of them. She doesn't want to be the wiser, she definitely doesn't, she wants to be overwhelmed and seduced and loved, but for some strange reason her decision is suddenly made. She hates herself with a passion at this moment, hates the clear level-headedness that makes her see all this when she'd prefer to dive into a sea of swirling emotion. Bah. She's a better person than she thought she was.

Dawn sits up and gently pushes Spike away.

"Spike."

He looks back, his eyes still dazed with longing, but he gets the message pretty quick. He shakes his head like a dog and rocks back on his heels.

"Dawn, I..."

"Spike, I love you and always will, but we can't do this. This is just not right. I really appreciate the thought, that was so very sweet of you, but I can't do this to you or Buffy. Or myself."

Spike nods. "Okay. You're right. Yeah. I'll go."

He doesn't, he stays put, balancing on his heels and looking kicked and confused. She's gonna have to be a little more direct. She pulls down her pajama top and buttons up her tartan shirt.

"Spike, come."

He follows her dazedly to the living room and stands forlornly, hands dangling at his side. Dawn's getting impatient. Can't he go already? It's hard enough without him standing there all temptingly ruffled and his wits hanging out of his ears.

"Spike. Go away. Go to Buffy. I'll give you guys a call in a couple of months, okay?"

Spike's eyes focus sharply and he's back to being himself. Dawn practically pushes him out of the door. She pretends she doesn't see his look of relief.

"Dawn. Thank you," he says, and kisses her cheek.

"Yeah, it's cool. Go now. What's my nephew called?" she says, in a big hurry to have him out of her house. She's not going to be able to keep it together much longer.

"Phoenix!" Spike shouts through the gap of the door closing.

So very So Cal. Dawn giggles, at least they start out that way, but they turn into sobs. She runs into the bedroom and buries her head under the pillow, wishing hard at Spike to leave, to be somewhere in a tunnel already, far way so he can't hear her cry.

TBC