AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic was a response to a Spike/Dawn ficathon challenge that bashipforever organized. The fic was written for thomasina75 , and the requirements are as follows:
Romantic or Friendship pairing: Romantic
Other character(s) if any you want in the fic: Illyria
Requests (2 or 3 things you want in your fic): post-NFA (i.e. After the Angel series finale), Dawn staking a vampire
Restrictions (2 or 3 things you don't want): No human Spike, No Angel
This is probably the weirdest pairing I've ever written. Sometimes my mind scares me. But I hope you enjoy!
Dawn watched as the blood seeped from her self-inflicted wound. Soon it would be time to go, but she knew she was ready. As she waited for more blood to spill, she pondered what had brought her to this point in her life.
Everything had changed since the battle in LA. Dawn remembered staring down at the body of her sister, still not quite believing that Buffy could be dead. A thin film of dust had covered Buffy's body—that dust was all that was left of Angel, who had died trying to protect her. It was fitting, Dawn had thought numbly. At least in the end, they could be together.
Up until that point, she had been fighting from the sidelines, too scared to throw herself into the midst of the fray. But that too had changed. While still mourning over her sister's body, she felt the tingling sense of danger approaching. Without thinking, she had whirled and plunged her stake into the chest of the vampire that had been trying to sneak up behind her. Dawn wondered if Buffy would have been proud. She never could quite accept that when Willow had completed the spell to awaken all the potential Slayers, Dawn had been among their ranks. However, she had grudgingly accepted that Dawn needed to train along with the rest. Her sister's concern had pushed Dawn to work harder than all the others, trying so desperately to prove that she wasn't the little girl that needed protecting anymore.
The battle that killed her sister had proved to be Dawn's testing ground. Before then, she had only gone out on routine patrols, staking fledgling vampires newly emerged from the grave. Even someone who wasn't a Slayer could do that. But that battle, that newborn apocalypse that Angel and his crew in LA had brought about due to their meddling, it was a hellish crucible that had tested her to her limits. Willow had felt the disturbance from across the world, and their small but fierce army of Slayers had been deployed. Willow had practically drained herself to the point of death using magic to transport them there, claiming that if they went by any other way, it would already be too late. They arrived to a battle already in progress, and with no time to be briefed about the situation, they all flung themselves into the fight to do what they did best—slay.
It wasn't until that moment, standing over the dead body of her sister with a vampire's ashes floating all around, that Dawn truly felt like she too was a Slayer. Looking one last time at the fallen body of her sister, Dawn noticed the gleam of a sword near Buffy's outstretched hand. Buffy's katana. It had been her weapon of choice for this battle due to its effectiveness in killing vampire and demon alike. Dawn picked up the sword reverently, preparing herself to wield it well and survive this battle. She eyed the carnage around her, forcing herself to keep her eyes off of the fallen bodies of her friends and comrades and instead search for something moving, something alive that she could kill.
With a deadly coldness, Dawn fought her way through the throng of demons and vampires that swarmed the streets of LA. At one point, she found herself next to Spike on the battlefield. Like old comrades in arms, they fought side by side, protecting each other's back. Dawn fought until it seemed that the violence had become part of her, until her arms grew numb and she felt she was nothing more than a killing machine. And then she saw her, a blue-skinned creature that some deep-rooted part of her almost seemed to recognize. The unsettling sensation stopped her dead in her tracks, unable to move. That is, until the creature noticed her. With vicious swiftness, it killed the two demons it had been fighting and strode towards Dawn with a single-minded purpose.
Dawn gripped her sword tightly, preparing to fight although she knew she could never defeat a creature that radiated such power. Ignoring her gut feeling that it was all hopeless and somehow wrong, Dawn rushed the creature, screaming and swinging her sword to attack. At the last moment, her arm was stopped dead in its tracks by her bleached-blond comrade. "She's on our side, pet," Spike had grinned cheekily. Dawn sagged slightly in relief, letting her arm relax into Spike's grip. She was caught completely by surprise when the creature took a dagger and slashed open her unguarded stomach.
The first cut had been the biggest shock, possibly more so to Spike than to her, judging by his immediate and fierce attempt to protect her. The creature (whose name was Illyria she soon found out) muttered about there being no time to explain as she flung Spike a hundred yards away and proceeded to cover Dawn with a series of shallow cuts. Then, after speaking something brief in an almost unpronounceable tongue, a portal appeared.
Dawn had thought that part of her life was over with the death of Glory, but apparently her blood was still capable of opening doorways to the other dimensions. Illyria had disappeared into the passageway only to return momentarily with a small, but fierce, army of her own. It seems that before her powers had been greatly reduced, Illyria had found some supporters in another dimension. She had been gathering them slowly for her eventual return to power on Earth. While not enough to accomplish world domination, her forces were more than adequate to dispatch the remnants of the ragtag army Wolfram and Hart had thrown together.
Dawn vaguely recalled being forced to bleed again in order to send Illyria's army back to the dimension from which it came, but after that, things became blurry. She was fairly certain that she had passed out from blood loss, which would explain why she awoke to the astringent smell of a hospital, but what she couldn't understand, the burning question that running through her mind was "how?" How had Illyria known the way to awake the power in her blood?
When she regained consciousness, it was the first question out of her mouth. Part of her now wished that she had never asked, that instead of waiting around for answers, she would have run back to her relatively normal and safe life and never looked back. Because the answer tore her world apart, even more so than all the death she had witnessed. Because unwittingly, she had finally found the answer to the one question that always plagued her: Where did I come from?
The answer, apparently, was that she had come from Illyria. Back in the age when demons and gods had roamed the Earth, Illyria held great power. So much power, that she was willing to wage war with other dimensions to increase her realme. But while it was as easy as breathing for her to travel to a rival dimension, it put her at a tactical disadvantage, because her army could only deploy if she was present. So, she created the Key, a vessel into which she concentrated a portion of her power, giving the wielder the ability to step between dimensions. This gave her the advantage she needed, allowing her armies to attack separately and surround her enemies.
Illyria had thought the Key to be depleted of power lifetimes ago since it had been millennia since her decline, but she had not realized quite how devoted her few remaining followers were. They had guarded the Key as a sacred artifact, waiting to present it to her upon her return. They had only chosen to hide it in human form once other gods learned of its existence and tried to steal it for their own purposes. But their plan was superior in its design, for in this form, not only was the Key hidden, but its energy became renewable, tied to the regenerative blood of the shell.
Dawn had reeled at hearing this information. Although she would always view Joyce as her mother, and Buffy as her sister, she now knew who her Creator was. At first, she responded with fear and loathing, trying to hide from the truth that she really was nothing but a tool. But apparently Illyria did not like the idea that anything that came from her should be so weak, so she berated Dawn fiercely, convincing her that instead of loathing what she was, she should learn to wield her powers and strike fear in all who beheld her.
And so she began a new training. Every day, Illyria would coach Dawn on how to make a portal, showing her different worlds and what useful things could be extracted from them. She even showed her how to make portals within her world, portals that could leap across the ocean and portals that would only transport her a few feet…just far enough to get behind her enemy for a killing blow.
During this time, Spike was her constant comfort. He held her when she cried over her failures, and celebrated when she accomplished something new. Granted, some of those celebrations included far too much alcohol and a grumpy and hung-over Dawn the next morning, but all the same, they were growing closer by the day. This made it all the more exciting when she finally learned the hardest skill of all, using a portal to transport her only a few feet.
Dawn remembered the day she finally mastered that final technique. Spike had also been training her, helping her to improve her hand-to-hand combat, but she had yet to defeat him. With a newfound confidence, she had challenged him to a sparring match in the basement of the apartment they had all been sharing. Spike and Dawn fought fiercely, flirting and trading insults as they normally did (a habit she must have picked up from Buffy), but when it seemed like Spike would win yet again, Dawn did something quite unexpected…she cut open her wrist on her own dagger. Spike stared at her in shock, not understanding why she would do something so daft, when suddenly she was gone in a flash of light. Before Spike could get his bearings, she was behind him, her sword pressed firmly against his neck.
And that was the moment her world changed. The position of her sword brought her still-bleeding wrist right in front of Spike's face. The power of her blood was always intoxicating to him, but the proximity of it drove him to his knees. He gripped her wrist tightly, bowing his head and whispering "Dawn" in a strangled voice. Dawn let her sword clatter to the floor, not knowing quite what to do now that the sexual tension between them had gone from shameless flirting to something far more serious.
She walked in front of Spike, who still held her bleeding wrist in his hands, as if kneeling in supplication, waiting for permission to drink from her. Dawn was staring at him mutely, still not knowing what to do, while Illyria watched from the shadows where she had been observing her student. She too had felt the sexual tension that could arise from fighting this arrogant vampire. She had spent a good deal of time considering when would be the appropriate time to bond him to her. But she now had Dawn to consider, a creature that was of her own making, and all the more alluring because of it. Dawn was already bound to her in a way, being created from her very essence, but the bond had grown weak with age. Illyria decided that she would act as the catalyst to forge a bond between the three of them that would never break.
This decided, Illyria emerged from the shadows and crept over to Spike, exuding an aura of power and sensuality. She ran her hands up Spike's back and over his shoulders, causing both Dawn and Spike to become very still. Spike had never felt so torn. He had a goddess in front of him who was innocent and beautiful and a goddess behind him who was both powerful and cruel, yet they were both intoxicating. Illyria began whispering into Dawn's ear, saying how strong Spike was for a creature of such a weak dimension and how useful a powerful ally could be, especially given the frailty of the human body. She ran her finger up Dawn's arm and traced the blood onto Spike's lips, asking him if he loved them both, if he would protect them from all harm. Her voice was strong and powerful, and it mesmerized them both. Spike trembled and whispered yes. He would protect them with his life.
And then Spike began to feed, taking Dawn's wrist and drinking hungrily. Then, as he felt Illyria's hand creep down his neck and towards his mouth, he sank his fangs into her as well, binding himself to them both through blood. It was Dawn, surprisingly, who made the move to take it further. She lifted Spike's lips away from Illyria's arm and ravaged his mouth. She then pulled away from Spike and turned towards Illyria, touching her face reverently before kissing her as well. As she explored the goddess' mouth, Spike slid his hand up Dawn's skirt, violently tearing away her panties and pushing his fingers rhythmically into her center while at the same time, taking Illyria's arm and feeding once again from her wrist.
As Dawn began to draw near the edge, Spike cut open his wrist on his fangs, offering it to Illyria. Illyria took his proffered wrist in one hand and allowed her other to freely roam over Dawn's body. As Dawn's pleasure began to mount, Spike bit into Dawn's neck, causing her to go over the edge and scream in release. Spike and Illyria both moaned as the pleasure from Dawn's trembling body traveled through the circuit of blood into each of them. It was not too long until Dawn found herself being pushed back into Illyria's firm breasts as Spike split her open and thrust forcefully into her, causing her to tremble and shake once more as he rushed towards his own release. His arms reached around her, and she could feel him pushing into Illyria at the same time, matching the movements of his fingers into her with the thrusts of his body against Dawn. Dawn felt as if she was a tiny creature being crashed into by powerful waves on both sides, and she was helpless to stop it. Somehow, amidst the moaning and touching and exploring, they managed to work their way upstairs to Spike's bedroom. The rest of the evening was spent in a tangle of limbs as three of them forged a bond in both sex and blood.
It was this night of unexpected passion that had brought Dawn to where she was now. When she had woken up that morning in a warm knot of arms and legs, she knew that her life could not go on as it once was. Taking care not to wake either occupant of Spike's bed, she snuck into the bathroom and tried to wash away all evidence of last night's activities. After she dried herself off and dressed, she looked into the mirror with dismay, knowing that there was no way she could erase the bite marks that were peppered over her body. She rushed outside, not knowing what to do. Pulling out her dagger, she decided that she had to go through with it now before she lost her resolve, and she cut herself open.
When the portal appeared, she planned to jump through to her home in England to gather her things and tell Giles that she wouldn't be returning this week, as she had promised. As a matter of fact, she would never be returning, at least not to live there. If he questioned her about the oh-so-improper bite marks or her rash decision, she would tell him that she had found something that turned her world upside down, something that finally allowed her to live outside her sister's shadow. And as frightening as it was, she needed to embrace it. There was no time for second thoughts or regrets. She had found her answers; she had found power, and she had found love, and it was all her own. And the wonderful thing was, nobody had any way of stopping her. She felt free.
Dawn watched as the final drops of blood fell out of her and a portal appeared. With a small smile on her face, she stepped into the glowing opening before her. With any luck, she would be back before her newfound lovers even crawled out of bed.