Title: Chills up my Spine
Series: Third in the "After the Fall" series.
Author: Diva Stardust
Summary: Dawn's feelings for Spike grow into more than just a crush.
Distribution: Just ask first if you want to archive this somewhere,
please. I will most likely say yes!
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Marti Noxon, Mutant
Enemy, UPN, FOX, etc. I'm not making any money off this!
Acknowledgements: Thanks to Spikeyvamp for the beta!
She was always waiting for his next touch.
In the evening, before bed, she would wait for him. Spike never had to
knock because she never kept her door closed. Dawn liked that he could slip
behind her so quietly; not making a sound and she would only know he was
there from his touch.
She'd be at her desk doing homework when she'd feel his hand on her
shoulder. There was always a pause before he would speak. She used that
time to relish the contact. To close her eyes and hope for more. Sometimes
he would stroke her hair; running the back of his hand down it or threading
a few of his fingers down selected locks. He never touched her hair the
same way twice. She could feel that.
Then there would be words.
"How's the work coming?"
"Need any help, Sweet Bit?"
"Buffy's in one of her bleeding moods tonight, Bit. Is carrying on about
lights out in a few, best listen to her. Don't want her to stake us both in
our sleep, do we now?"
Dawn mostly concentrated on his hand on her. The way the hand on her
shoulder was tight and secure without being suppressive or controlling. The
way his hand was so light in her hair; moving around the strands like it
was slowly flying.
There would always be a hug in the morning and at night but she was always
the one who reached for him first. It didn't used to be like that. But now
he acted like her hugs burned him, like if he held her too tightly he'd
crumble into dust.
She's not sure when the change happened. When she started craving his
touch. She just knew that one day when Spike left her room, she made a
noise. His hands were gone and she wanted them back.
There are certain things Dawn does at night.
Sometimes she would sleep in her own bed straight through the night. That
didn't happen as much anymore.
Sometimes she crept downstairs to the basement and read a book in the
corner of Spike's room. That happened more often.
Sometimes she would lie in her bed and touch her scars. Remembering the day
Spike's lips were on them that past summer and wondering if they would ever
be there again. She would think about the way his lips felt against her
skin. Cool and soft, light and airy. Then she would slip her hand into her
So many things to think about when she was touching herself. About that
day. She thought about that day a lot. Nothing made her as wet than
thinking about looking down at Spike while he kissed her stomach. She liked
to think about things that never happened too. About things that would
never happen. About Spike coming into her room and seeing her touch herself
surrounded by her stuffed animals. Just sitting on her bed and watching
her; watching her fingers slide in and out of her cunt while he knocked the
dolls off the bed, making room for himself. He'd watch her come while
telling her how much he loved her. How he wanted her and no one else. Then
he'd kiss her before crawling in beside her and holding her while
whispering things to her all through the night.
She kept her door unlocked just in case. He never walked through it,
That night Dawn wasn't content with sitting in the corner of his room,
reading. She liked being down there to be near him in private. No Buffy, or
Willow, or anyone else to disrupt their time together. But sometimes just
being near him wasn't enough and tonight was one of those nights.
She walked quietly over to his bed. She wasn't sure whether she wanted him
to wake up or not. He looked so peaceful while he was sleeping. Peaceful
and dead, since no sounds came from his mouth. Sheets were loosely draped
over him as she sat on the edge of his bed, watching him.
She liked looking at him alone like this when she could wonder what was
happening to her; when she started needing him so bad. She used to have a
crush on him so she knew what that felt like. It didn't feel like this. It
scared her, these feelings she had for him. It scared her how she could get
jealous about little things.
Like Buffy. She would come home from school and see them together, talking
and feel something inside her tighten up. Jealousy. And she hated it. She
also hated that she could tell Spike everything except this. Could tell him
about the nightmares she had about the tower, about all her hopes and
dreams but not about how she wanted to kiss him. He was her best friend
except for when it came to telling him about the feelings she had for him.
She knew she couldn't tell him. She was too afraid of what would happen.
That he would laugh.
That he would say she was too young even though she was eighteen.
That he would laugh, say she was too young, and was nothing compared to
Buffy, anyway. Would never compare to Buffy. She was the Slayer, she was
the world's protector, and she was just an ancient key that didn't unlock
anything anymore. Just Buffy's sister.
She couldn't stand it if she found out that's all she was to him. Just
Buffy's sister. Some days she'd remember when he used to be so painfully in
love with her. Totally and completely in love. So many days, hours,
minutes, seconds that he'd been utterly devoted to her.
It was during those days that Dawn felt it was useless.
But there'd be other times when she thought ... that Spike felt the same
way she did. The way she would sometimes catch him looking at her; the way
his hand would linger against hers. The way he said her name.
He sometimes said her name differently now. The words were still the same.
Dawn, Sweet Bit, and Bit ... those were his usual names for her but
occasionally the words came out sounding different when they left his
Something new layered on top of the protective, sweet tone they had always
had. Something that melted her. It felt like he was saying her name like a
prayer nowadays, like something he shouldn't even be allowed to say.
Sometimes hushed and in a honeyed tone; sometimes rich and soothing. The
sound always lush and vibrant. But maybe the way he said her name hadn't
changed; maybe she just heard it differently now. She wasn't sure.
Sitting by the edge of his bed, she whispered his name. She just wanted to
know if it would come out sounding differently from her mouth too. It came
out like a squeak, though. He didn't wake up.
Her hands couldn't keep still. She found herself pulling back the sheets
just an inch. The inches soon added up until the sheets were piled by his
feet. He was wearing black jeans and nothing else. His hair rumpled from
the pillow as she reached out a shaky hand to touch his face.
Her fingers caressed his cheek lightly. So very lightly that at first she
wasn't touching anything. Her fingertips drifted across the planes of his
cheekbones as he slept. Dawn was holding her breath almost the entire time.
She sat by him closer so she could have her entire hand across his cheek.
He made a little happy noise and she jumped, taking her hand away quickly.
She wondered how much of her warmth he had absorbed.
When he didn't wake up she moved her hand across his chest; feeling the
tight muscles there, one trembling finger grazing past a hardened nipple.
His skin was smooth, flawless, and she wanted nothing more than to take off
all her clothes and feel how her skin felt against his. To touch his body
so thoroughly that she would know all the places by heart; all his little
secret spots that would cause him to shudder in pleasure.
Her hand traveled down his stomach where she moved it back and forth
gently. Her nails occasionally scraping against his skin as her hand moved
up and down. He was making more sounds now. There was a soft smile on his
face that hadn't been there before. Little noises and tiny gasps were
coming from his mouth as she ran her hand all the way from his stomach up
to his chest again.
"Dawn ..." he murmured in his sleep. The word sounded like sex. Slightly
raspy and covered in a moan. She'd never heard him say her name like that
She quickly took her hand away, threw the sheets back over his body and ran
One night Dawn woke Spike up sometime between midnight and daybreak.
"Take me somewhere," she whispered, already fully clothed. She looked down
at him with pleading eyes.
"Where do you want to go?"
He grumbled but eventually gave in. It was the weekend and she already had
all her homework and all her research for the latest creature of the week
He tried to give her that old helmet she had worn the night Buffy came back
but she refused. Every time they rode together he would ask her to wear it
even though she refused each time. She wasn't going to wear something that
reminded him of her at that age. Didn't want him to think about her like
that; didn't want to be that girl that needed protecting.
"Fine," he sighed when she refused the helmet. "Just hold on tight, then.
Don't let go."
That was the idea.
Being on the back of his bike with him was the best feeling in the world.
She was able to hold onto him as tight as she wanted without him being able
to run away. Couldn't look awkward like he sometimes did and make excuses
while untangling himself from her embrace.
She imagined that this was what sex felt like. Holding onto him as tight as
possible, melding her body into his while something powerful and hard
throbbed between her legs. Feeling it everywhere. The heat from the bike
ran up through her thighs all the way to the tips of her fingers. She tried
to give him some of this heat back by putting her hands around his waist,
her fingertips meeting up around his stomach, clenching around the cotton
of his shirt.
She pressed her breasts against the leather of his coat, rested her head
against him and sighed into the wind. Then she tried to listen for any
sounds his body made. Dawn wanted to see if she could hear his heart
beating again if she pressed closely enough against him. She moved her
fingers slightly against his waist and felt the tiny ways he trembled. I
made him tremble, she thought, I did that.
He took her to a place where you could stand and look at the whole city.
Funny how Sunnydale looked so normal from a distance. Everything peaceful
Dawn had started smoking. She only did it when they were alone somewhere
together at night. Those were the only times she would ask and he never
protested because he knew she wasn't going to start smoking regularly. She
only smoked when they were underneath a bed of stars.
They stood together, overlooking the city and then she turned to him.
Didn't even have to say anything and he handed her a cigarette. She didn't
crave the nicotine. She craved the sparks she got from it.
She held it in her mouth while he lit it for her. And that's the thrill she
loved most of all. The moment where the flame from his lighter would
illuminate his face and she could see his eyes looking at her in the dark.
She wondered if he always looked at her in the dark like that. When no one
The flame was always gone too quickly for her. She wanted to see him look
at her like that all the time.
Groping in the back seat of a car was awkward. Especially awkward when the
person you were groping and kissing wasn't the one you wanted to be with.
They were parked where everyone went to make out. Dawn could see other
couples doing the same thing through her window but there was a difference.
They looked like they were having fun.
Mark was a nice enough boy but he was boring. Dull. Lacked fire and
passion. Didn't have anything in common with her. Had probably never read a
book in his life. But she'd been out on a few dates with him that autumn
because he'd told her he liked her and that'd seemed like enough at the
His hands were clumsy against her body and she longed for Spike's hands.
The way his fingers could gracefully touch the nape of her neck. She loved
how those same hands could break a demon's neck with the same sort of
This wasn't working. His hands were up her shirt but she wasn't turned on
at all. He kept talking to her but none of the words sounded right. None of
it did anything for her.
"Call me your Sweet Bit," she whispered frantically in his ear.
"What?" Mark pulled back, confused.
"Just do it," she hissed, her eyes steely and determined.
"Sure. Whatever does it for you, babe."
When she heard Spike's endearment for her leave Mark's lips over and over
again she closed her eyes and tried to pretend it was him. She imagined
Spike's hands against her breasts, caressing them. Mark's hands fumbled
with her zipper and fumbled even more when they were in her panties. She
tried to picture Spike's hands in her mind and imagine what they would feel
"Keep saying it," she ordered, her voice sounding desperate.
It still wasn't working. His voice sounded nothing like Spike's. It didn't
have that deep, rough, gravelly timbre that Spike's voice could take on. He
never took on that tone much with her but she had it memorized from the few
times she had heard it. Those times when a few words would slip past his
lips that sounded low and dark, sensual. He'd look scared when that would
happen and get away from her quickly, mumbling an excuse of some kind.
No, this definitely wasn't working. It was wrong for Mark to be calling her
his Sweet Bit. She wasn't his.
Finally she shoved him off her. "Take me home," she grumbled.
He protested at first but relented when she fixed him her trademark glare
with her arms across her chest.
Spike was sitting in the living room watching television when she got home.
He would always wait up for her when she had a date but was never
overbearing about it. Never acted like an overprotective brother. Just
acted like a friend.
He looked up when he saw her come through the door. "Date go well?" he
She flung her purse on the coffee table and sat down beside him. "Eh.
Mark's majorly lacking in the brains department. And in a few other places
He snorted. "I could've told you that, love. Knew he was a stupid git the
first time I met him."
He stared straight ahead at the screen, his jaw clenched up tight. "So ...
you won't be going out with him again, I take it?"
"Nope. What's the point? I can see Mark acting like an idiot all day long
at school. Don't really need to see him doing it at night too."
He looked relieved and they talked for a few more minutes before she stood
"I guess I better go to bed. Don't tell Buffy I was out past curfew, okay?"
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said, standing up as well.
She was excited and surprised to see him reach for her first tonight.
He hugged her goodnight and she held him as tight as she could. She hadn't
touched him since their good morning hug and she'd needed this. She ran her
hands up and down his back as he stroked her hair. He smelled good as she
buried her head against his body. They were so close that everything felt
like friction. Everything sparked. She felt a moan coming on and she bit
her lip so hard to cover it that she could feel a drop of blood begin to
well up. Luckily he didn't seem to be able to smell it.
He pushed back some of her hair, making his lips as close as possible to
her ear. "Good night, Sweet Bit," he whispered.
She felt a noise escape her mouth then as her knees went weak but she
covered it by saying good night as well. She let her hands travel upwards
to the back of his head for a moment, quickly getting to feel his hair
before they unraveled themselves from each other and headed to their