Tainting her innocence

spawnobsession @ 2005-05-25T18:36:00

2005-05-25T22:36:58Z

Title: Never
Author: PassionateDarkness

Take one on the new challege; forgiven

She collapsed to the ground; falling upon dust and ashes and blood. Her sister stared at her in wonder; confused as to why the younger girl before her was not celebrating. But the others knew; at least the ones that had been there that summer. Out of the seven survivors; they were down to four. She was crying, tear drops melding into the dirt. Willow slid next to her, wrapping her arms around the brunette and allowing her to cry.
“What the hell,” Buffy muttered to Giles, who stared on with a sympathetic look.
“Don’t ask, Buffy, just don’t ask,” And with that the British man returned to the bus. Everyone slowly began loading up, but Dawn took a moment to sit by the crater. Her tears had dried, but their stains still marred her checks. She stared at the hole; everything was gone. Anya with her out of place comments and cheeky grins, Spike with his smirk and cigarette, Tara with her sad smile and loving hugs, Mom whose words and chocolate made the world better. Everyone and everything. All the places she spent her time; Spike’s crypt where she heard the most gruesome and exciting stories, the graves that she mourned at for hours, the house that had been so silent for those three months the whispers of the dead seemed to echo off the walls. The end of a legacy. In the background she heard Faith tell Buffy to back off when the blonde attempted to come get her. The younger slayer instead came, sitting next to Dawn.
“You love him,” She mused softly, though the thought obviously wasn’t a new one.
“Have since I was fourteen,” Dawn muttered back, trickling dirt through her fingers. “He saved me,”
“I know how that is,” Faith flinched at any thought of Angel dying in the same way the blonde vampire had. “He cared about you too…more then you’ll probably ever know. Just do us all a favor, say goodbye quick, okay? We have some injured people on that hunk of metal and we have to get them to a doctor,” Faith kissed her forehead, surprising Dawn greatly. The rouge slayer wasn’t ever one for affection, or so Dawn had learned but the gesture was appreciated anyway.
“I’m so sorry, Spike,” The Key whispered, picturing the vampire in her mind.
Two years later, Dawn Summers had finally moved on from his death, graduating high school and working as a watcher in the council. That was until she got a phone call one night, and even though only four words were said she knew exactly who it was.
“I’ll always love you,” And with those words she realized something; with him…she’d never have to say sorry.

spawnobsession @ 2005-05-24T17:09:00

2005-05-24T21:09:34Z

Title: The Replacement
Author: P.d.
Just another one of my spawn stories...not very good but I seem to like this one. It's a take off of that one drabble I did for the weather challenge. Thanks to all those you apologised for Bonnie (my dog) but really, she was really sick...its morbid but we expected it. Thanks anyway though. Comment if ya like.

Replacement

It was only dripping softly, bathing her skin with dew. Silk diamonds clutching to pearls embedded into her body. Rubies hidden by scars and emeralds crossed with sapphires shielded with pain to ward away the love. Always have to be protected, can’t let anyone in. He comes up behind her, smirking as she jumps. Thunder crackles and lightning tears the sky; breaking it open and flashing memories of little girls shattered and heroes crashing to their death. He turns her slowly, tilting her chin so her eyes meet his. They connect for a moment before she shies away and defiantly yanks her body from him. Someday it’ll stop…someday…but someday never comes.

“Buffy,” His voice is pained, desperate. For a moment, a fleeting moment she feels like he needs her. Wants her…not the shell she was molded from. She feels tainted, can’t let her hero touch her dirty body. Dirty blood, dirty tears, dirty skin. Not the real thing…just fake. He pulls her towards him again, his right arm wrapping around her too-thin waist and his left hand grasping her own. He twirls them gently, and she rests her cheek on his wet chest. His hair is barely gelled, a few strands breaking free. Reaching up, she brushes a piece back, tracing her finger down the beautiful ridges of his face. She had always related him to a wolf; even long before he realized she existed and was in love with her sister. And now she isn’t sure which intrigues her more, man or beast.

“I can’t dance,” She breathes, barely speaking. He smiles, motioning for her to stand on his feet. They dance like that. As the lighting flashes she has visions of rickety towers and screams that echo through her mind each night as she tries to sleep. She thinks of gravestones etched with words “Buffy Summers” and roses dotting trimmed grass. She remembers him kneeling at the granite, swearing undying love to the empty air and praying it reached the ears of an angel. Buffy was his angel…but she…she was just the replacement. “I can’t be her forever,”
“I know, Dawn.” The way those three words echo through her mind cause her throat to close and tears to fill her eyes. It is the first time he has used her name since the night and she allows herself to believe that he wants her, that he needs her. She is sure he notices how her hair doesn’t match her sisters, or how her eyes aren’t green and her smile doesn’t light up a room. How three scars blemish her stomach from where the metal pierced. She will never be beautiful enough. Even at her funeral, her sister was beautiful. It was days like this that the girl wishes it had been her that jumped. That she hadn’t been too scared to jump, too scared to stop her sister. Too scared to be the hero.
After that night things like books and lipgloss seemed too simple. With death roaring in the distance like a lion how could one wish for such things. How could she think of boys and cars when her sister was six feet under and the boy who loved her clung to the only thing that was left. When she was the only thing left. She knows that if he closes his eyes, and ignores that her breasts are too small, that her waist is too thin, and that her hair is too dark then it could almost be as though she is still alive. As though the accident never happened, and Glory never existed and she had never been made. And sometimes, all Dawn can do is wish for that too. All she can do is wish that it had been her that had gone through the portal because then maybe her sister could have had a chance.
“Do you think she’s in heaven, Spike?” The question comes out of her mouth before she can stop it. It was one of those thoughts that plagues her mind day and night, and as she looks up at the boy who was the only thing left, she wishes he will give the answer she can’t.
“I don’t know, but I hope so,” And then the deafening silence sets in, and the rain begins to fall harder but neither move. They still dance, her bare feet on his boots. Her hair is matted to her back now, and she realizes just how many times she had considered dying it blonde for him. Just so it will be even easier for him to pretend.
“Shoulda been me,” And he doesn’t protest, because they both know it is true. Her sister was loved in this world, and she was just the replacement. But sometimes when he says her sister’s name when he’s with her, she’s able to pretend that she is her sister. But then it all comes crashing back when it ends, and all she is is the replacement for the angel that should have lived.

spawnobsession @ 2005-05-23T20:28:00

2005-05-24T00:27:58Z

I was really upset when I wrote this cause we had to put my dog to sleep tonight so I'm all shaky. That's my excuse for the typos. It's short, and basically what I envisioned as Dawn's reaction after "Lies My Parents Told Me". Comment please.

Title: Reasons
Author: PassionateDarkness
Rating: Pg-13
Pairing: Spike/Dawn
Before she knew what had happened her fist had pulled back and firmly connected with the man’s nose. She wasn’t sure how it was possible, but she managed to throw him to the ground. Maybe it was one of those feats of strength you hear about on the news when someone you love is in danger. The man had enough sense to stay down. He just stared at her in shock, and scooted away a little when she sat Indian style by his head.
“You’ve done research on us, right? On me and Buffy and our lives. You know our mom died two years back, but there’s something you wont find in any history book; anywhere. Do you know why? Because only a handful of people know what really happened. Buffy died,” His mouth was open, and for a moment she wished a fly would zoom in just like the folk tales told you. “She died to save me. I knew it, they knew it,” She waved her hand in the direction of the house, the dark house where everyone had long ago fallen asleep. The moon lit the sky, and the porch light barely illuminated their figures. She was playing with the grass, speaking of unhappy times and hardly real memories. “One person didn’t though. Spike. He saw me there, crumpled to the ground staring at my sister’s body and pulled me to him. And you know what he said? He said, “I’m so glad they didn’t take you too. Because I honestly don’t know if I could live if they had taken you too,” We never talked about it after that. But all summer, we were together. He stayed up with me late at night, because I couldn’t sleep. The screams were too loud in my head, and every time I closed my eyes I saw her face. I saw her blood. He understood that; but he still made sure I was living,” He was entrapped now, staring at her. The moonlight reflected off her dark hair, giving her skin a pale glow. Her eyes were what was the most amazing; a gentle blue with ice rimming them. A shield.
“He made sure I went to summer school every day, and scolded me for all the stupid things I did. He caught me trying to steal his cigarettes, just to try one. He lit it, and told me to try it. Said he couldn’t stop me if I wanted it. I took one drag and was coughing for a half hour. Never tried one again. My fifteenth birthday was two weeks after Buffy died; and no one else remembered. He did though. He packed us a picnic basket and we went to the graveyard. It was night, like tonight, and we had a picnic with Buffy and Mom. We stayed at their graves; and it really wasn’t as morbid as it sounds. I felt like I actually had a family again. If I just had that night; I could die happy. We watched foreign movies, and listened to punk music. He helped me accept that it wasn’t my fault, and in turn I helped him realize he wasn’t a monster. Spike is my best friend and I understand why you want to kill him. Hell, if I could kill the thing that murdered my mother I would. But the thing is, it isn’t alive. It doesn’t exist. Neither does the monster that killed your mother. I know Buffy said she would kill you if you came at Spike again…thing is…she’s too much of a hero. She can’t take a life; but I’m different from Buffy. I wouldn’t want to hurt a human…but you try and hurt Spike again and I will not hesitate to do so. Good night, Professor Wood,”
He lay there for a while; his nose aching just like the rest of his already battered body. He had come to apologize to Buffy; and ended up getting a lecture from her little sister on why the man he had hated forever was a good guy. It’s amazing how much kick one punch can have.
“Are you happy now? Seeing me getting my ass kicked by a teenager?” He croaked, as the bleached vampire emerged from the shadows.
“My ‘bit always had a razor tongue on her…the right hook was a surprise though,” He chuckled, staring down at the man. Seeing his baby stick up for him again made him have hope. Hope that he wasn’t just the cold shell Buffy made him out to be. She had grown so much in the past two years, developing from a gangly little girl with her pop bands and a bite to a sexy teenager with sharp wit and a right hook. He really had picked the wrong Summers girl to fall in love with.
“How could she love you,” Wood spit, climbing to his feet and stalking out of the yard, clutching to his last shred of dignity.
“Because we’re the only ones in the shadows,” He looked up at her room. “And sometimes it’s nice to have a little company,” And he smiled, and though he knew Dawn would keep up the façade that she hated him…the hope still lingered in his heart. Because what he told her that day when her sister jumped was true; he couldn’t live if they took her too.

spawnobsession @ 2005-05-11T17:14:00

2005-05-11T21:16:19Z

Title: Tell Her So Many Things
Author: Passionatedarkness
Directly post gift.-Spawn!

He watches her as she runs to the bathroom, her hair flowing behind her and her face buried into her hands. She slams the door shut, just to smite the ghosts and pumps the music loud. He hears the shower run, but does nothing to ease her pain. He knows there is pain because he hears her sobs muffled by the towel she presses against her face. Towels Buffy used. Towels Joyce used. Towels the little girl who left the house that morning used last night. They’re all in the living room, crying their bloody eyes out. The demon’s unconscious again and the Whelp’s sobbing. Red and Glinda look passionately at each other, waiting to regain their nightly orgasm sessions. He hates them. The old man surprises him the most, heading strait for the Jack Daniel’s Joyce kept hidden under the sink. He would have gladly joined the bastard but changed his mind the second he saw Dawn. He thought he’d hate her because she ripped away the love of his life…but he didn’t, not at all. He blamed himself, so he did the only logical thing he could think off. He swooped her into his arms like a bloody bride so she didntt have to see the crumbled body of her fallen sister. He carried her all the way home in the sun, and though he didn’t burst into flames, he felt his skin sizzle.
Ripper told him the powers did it to allow him to save her. The water still runs, washing the tiles. Her sobs are too loud, they are drowning him. He feels Anya wake, and the Whelp embrace her. Never embrace Buffy. Only Dawn now, only thing left. Red and her girlfriend slip by him, hands held and eyes locked on the door. He curses at them, yells, and shouts the Buffy is dead. When the door clicks he realizes he never opened his mouth. Rup is halfway through that bottle now, and she’s still in the bloody shower, and he just sighs.
He wants to tell her so many things. Tell her it wasn’t her fault, that her sister loved her so much. He wanted to tell her how Ripper wanted to kill her, how her mum talked about her all the time. How Buffy loved her so much she died for her. How he loved her so much he gave her his eternity. How he was as good as dead without her. He wanted to tell her how great her sister was, how wonderful and sweet. How powerful. He wanted to tell her how wonderful she was. He cried for Buffy, for Joyce, and for Dawn. For Anya, and the witches, and the watcher who only has the JD in his gut. He cries for Angel, who lost his soul mate and the Whelp who lost his hero.
The Whelp is holding onto Anya so tight, he hears her ribs crack. They were already broken though. He knows his were too; his leg was at a strange angle and his skin burned. His hands are stained in blood. Dawn’s blood. She had lost so much. She is still crying, flooding her pain with tears of ice. The water is still beating heavily, pounding, The words of the music become slurred. Then it stops. The water shuts off, and it is silent. She opens the door, her head bent. A towel is wrapped around her, and her face is clean of soot, instead marred by tear tracks. Her big blue eyes drown him. The purple dress is in the corner, and the medical alert kit is open on the sink, bandages heroes would never use strewn about. He wants to tell her so many things. He doesn’t say anything, not even when he notices that her hair is dry.

Authors Note:
Always wanted to write a Dawn/Spike fic that was directly Post-gift. Please..tell me whatcha thing.

spawnobsession @ 2005-05-11T17:13:00

2005-05-11T21:13:04Z

Title: Raindrops in her hair
Author: Passionatedarkness
Rating: PG
Summary: Thunder crackles and lightning tears the sky. Breaking it open, flashing memories of little girls shattered and heroes diving to their death spikedawn Challenge: Nature

It was only dripping softly, bathing her skin with dew. Silk diamonds clutching to pearls embedded into her body. Rubies hidden by scars and emeralds crossed with sapphires shielded with pain to ward away the love. Always have to be protected, cant let anyone in. He came up behind her, smirking as she jumped. Thunder crackles and lightning tears the sky. Breaking it open, flashing memories of little girls shattered and heroes diving to their death. He turns her slowly, tilting her chin so her eyes met his. They connect for a moment before she shies away and defiantly yanks her body from him.
“’Bit…” His voice is pained, desperate. For a moment, a fleeting moment she feels like he needs her. Wants her…not the shell she was molded from. She feels tainted, cant let her hero touch her dirty body. Dirty blood, dirty tears, dirty skin. Not the real thing…just fake. He pulls her towards him again, his right arms wrapping around her too-thin waist and his left hand grasping her own. He twirls them gently, and she rests her cheek on his wet chest. His hair was barely gelled, a few strands breaking free. Reaching up, she brushes a strand back, tracing her finger down the beautiful ridges of his human face. She isn’t sure which intrigued her more, man or beast.
“I can’t dance,” She breathes, barely speaking. He smiles, motioning for her to stand on his feet. They dance like that. Thunder crackles and lightning tears the sky. Breaking it open and flashing memories of little girls shattered and heroes diving to their death. And she throws her head back and laughs as the only person left twirls her as the heavens sob.

spawnobsession @ 2005-05-11T16:38:00

2005-05-11T21:09:28Z

There are two drabbles here, both food related. Spawn cuteness not very good but they're alright in my opinion. I'm trying the lj-cut thing again...betcha a drabble it wont work.

Sweets

When she was little she lived off of sweets. Building castles of gumdrops and candy canes, gummy-bears and chocolate figures battling against the lemon-drop and peppermint baddies. As age began to set in, teen-hood followed by the long awaited adulthood, her desperation for sugar had decreased. Sure, her and Spike still had their hot chocolate, mini marshmallows and all each night before bed but she began eating healthier. They would snuggle under their satin sheets, wrapped around each other with bare skin rubbing sensually against the others and laugh about the things they did that day or the things they wished to do tomorrow. They didn’t plan, they just did. Dawn had learned from Spike that life was meant to be lived out of a date book and that vacations weren’t meant to be planned months in advance. They were spontaneous and many people laughed and told them they admired them, before pulling out a sleek black date book and asking when was the next time they could meet up.
Dawn was huddled over the desk, her hair piled atop her head and a towel still wrapped around her body from her shower. She was still wet, water dripping from her to the carpet. She was writing furiously in her diary, and didn’t even hear Spike come up from behind her until he had managed to pull the towel from her. She instantly covered her private parts, before realizing whom it was that was standing in front of her. Laughing, the brunette relaxed.
“Don’t cover up all that beauty, love,” He murmured, his voice seductive.
“Beauty huh,” She had learned to match his tone perfectly, and took a step towards him to push her naked body against his.
“Never gets boring with us. Might wanna add something to the mix though,” He stated, breaking their kiss. Dawn groaned before answering.
“And what would that be,” She raised her eyebrow, looking at him as he walked back out the room. He reentered a moment later with a bottle of chocolate syrup. She grinned, and soon the two were lost in their own ecstasy. Sometimes, sweets were all there was to live for…especially if they were coated in Spike.

Baking

Dawn had always been a horrible cook, and the fact that her, though perfect in most ways, boyfriend couldn’t cook squat didn’t help much. The vampire was currently airing out the kitchen, thick clouds of black smoke still billowing from the stove, and obscuring her vision as she chucked the chunk of black cupcakes into the garbage. Spike plopped into one of the chairs, a pout firmly attached onto his face. The brunette smiled, and sat on top said boyfriend and sighed.
“We’re doomed.” The former Key announced.
“Oh really? Did the smell or the hunk of char that’s supposed to be cupcakes give it away?” His sarcastic reply made her giggle, before she kissed him lightly and stood up again.
“I have an idea,” Dawn grinned, grabbing the container of vanilla icing. She turned to Spike.
“What’s that, bit?” He asked, smirking.
“This,” The brunette then promptly smeared a chunk of icing on the top of the vampires head, before arming herself with a can of whipped cream.
“Oh it’s on,” Spike challenged, chucking a handful of flour at the teenager.
“This is my new shirt,” Dawn shrieked, looking at it’s now dulled color.
“You giving in?”
“Well…we are making a mess,” Spike sighed, turning to clean up the mess on the counter. His yell was heard a block away as his girlfriend dumped the remaining batter over his head.

spawnobsession @ 2005-05-05T20:38:00

2005-05-06T00:39:58Z

Wanted to write a Spike/Dawn post chosen fic. Still getting the hang of this lj-cut stuff so bare with me.

Title: So Much He Wants To Tell Her

He watches her as she runs to the bathroom, her hair flowing behind her and her face buried into her hands. She slams the door shut, just to smite the ghosts and pumps the music loud. He hears the shower run, but does nothing to ease her pain. He knows there is pain because he hears her sobs muffled by the towel she presses against her face. Towels Buffy used. Towels Joyce used. Towels the little girl who left the house that morning used last night. They’re all in the living room, crying their bloody eyes out. The demon’s unconscious again and the Whelp’s sobbing. Red and Glinda look passionately at each other, waiting to regain their nightly orgasm sessions. He hates them. The old man surprises him the most, heading strait for the Jack Daniel’s Joyce kept hidden under the sink. He would have gladly joined the bastard but changed his mind the second he saw Dawn. He thought he’d hate her because she ripped away the love of his life…but he didn’t, not at all. He blamed himself, so he did the only logical thing he could think off. He swooped her into his arms like a bloody bride so she didntt have to see the crumbled body of her fallen sister. He carried her all the way home in the sun, and though he didn’t burst into flames, he felt his skin sizzle.
Ripper told him the powers did it to allow him to save her. The water still runs, washing the tiles. Her sobs are too loud, they are drowning him. He feels Anya wake, and the Whelp embrace her. Never embrace Buffy. Only Dawn now, only thing left. Red and her girlfriend slip by him, hands held and eyes locked on the door. He curses at them, yells, and shouts the Buffy is dead. When the door clicks he realizes he never opened his mouth. Rup is halfway through that bottle now, and she’s still in the bloody shower, and he just sighs.
He wants to tell her so many things. Tell her it wasn’t her fault, that her sister loved her so much. He wanted to tell her how Ripper wanted to kill her, how her mum talked about her all the time. How Buffy loved her so much she died for her. How he loved her so much he gave her his eternity. How he was as good as dead without her. He wanted to tell her how great her sister was, how wonderful and sweet. How powerful. He wanted to tell her how wonderful she was. He cried for Buffy, for Joyce, and for Dawn. For Anya, and the witches, and the watcher who only has the JD in his gut. He cries for Angel, who lost his soul mate and the Whelp who lost his hero.
The Whelp is holding onto Anya so tight, he hears her ribs crack. They were already broken though. He knows his were too; his leg was at a strange angle and his skin burned. His hands are stained in blood. Dawn’s blood. She had lost so much. She is still crying, flooding her pain with tears of ice. The water is still beating heavily, pounding, The words of the music become slurred. Then it stops. The water shuts off, and it is silent. She opens the door, her head bent. A towel is wrapped around her, and her face is clean of soot, instead marred by tear tracks. Her big blue eyes drown him. The purple dress is in the corner, and the medical alert kit is open on the sink, bandages heroes would never use strewn about. He wants to tell her so many things. He doesn’t say anything, not even when he notices that her hair is dry.

Authors Note:
Always wanted to write a Dawn/Spike fic that was directly Post-gift. Please..tell me whatcha thing.

spawnobsession @ 2005-05-05T20:35:00

2005-05-06T00:36:30Z

New Spike/Dawn fic...post chosen.

Titled: Tell Her So Many Things

He watches her as she runs to the bathroom, her hair flowing behind her and her face buried into her hands. She slams the door shut, just to smite the ghosts and pumps the music loud. He hears the shower run, but does nothing to ease her pain. He knows there is pain because he hears her sobs muffled by the towel she presses against her face. Towels Buffy used. Towels Joyce used. Towels the little girl who left the house that morning used last night. They’re all in the living room, crying their bloody eyes out. The demon’s unconscious again and the Whelp’s sobbing. Red and Glinda look passionately at each other, waiting to regain their nightly orgasm sessions. He hates them. The old man surprises him the most, heading strait for the Jack Daniel’s Joyce kept hidden under the sink. He would have gladly joined the bastard but changed his mind the second he saw Dawn. He thought he’d hate her because she ripped away the love of his life…but he didn’t, not at all. He blamed himself, so he did the only logical thing he could think off. He swooped her into his arms like a bloody bride so she didntt have to see the crumbled body of her fallen sister. He carried her all the way home in the sun, and though he didn’t burst into flames, he felt his skin sizzle.
Ripper told him the powers did it to allow him to save her. The water still runs, washing the tiles. Her sobs are too loud, they are drowning him. He feels Anya wake, and the Whelp embrace her. Never embrace Buffy. Only Dawn now, only thing left. Red and her girlfriend slip by him, hands held and eyes locked on the door. He curses at them, yells, and shouts the Buffy is dead. When the door clicks he realizes he never opened his mouth. Rup is halfway through that bottle now, and she’s still in the bloody shower, and he just sighs.
He wants to tell her so many things. Tell her it wasn’t her fault, that her sister loved her so much. He wanted to tell her how Ripper wanted to kill her, how her mum talked about her all the time. How Buffy loved her so much she died for her. How he loved her so much he gave her his eternity. How he was as good as dead without her. He wanted to tell her how great her sister was, how wonderful and sweet. How powerful. He wanted to tell her how wonderful she was. He cried for Buffy, for Joyce, and for Dawn. For Anya, and the witches, and the watcher who only has the JD in his gut. He cries for Angel, who lost his soul mate and the Whelp who lost his hero.
The Whelp is holding onto Anya so tight, he hears her ribs crack. They were already broken though. He knows his were too; his leg was at a strange angle and his skin burned. His hands are stained in blood. Dawn’s blood. She had lost so much. She is still crying, flooding her pain with tears of ice. The water is still beating heavily, pounding, The words of the music become slurred. Then it stops. The water shuts off, and it is silent. She opens the door, her head bent. A towel is wrapped around her, and her face is clean of soot, instead marred by tear tracks. Her big blue eyes drown him. The purple dress is in the corner, and the medical alert kit is open on the sink, bandages heroes would never use strewn about. He wants to tell her so many things. He doesn’t say anything, not even when he notices that her hair is dry.

Authors Note:
Always wanted to write a Dawn/Spike fic that was directly Post-gift. Please..tell me whatcha thing.