Autor: Astarte
Titel: Flawed Design
Altersfreigabe: NC-17
Wordcount: 500

Spoiler: BtVS 5x22 The Gift
Inhalt:
She’s not young enough to know everything.
Hauptcharakter(e)/Paar(e): Dawn/Spike
Disclaimer: Sie gehören mir nicht...
Alles Joss!
Kommentar: Five drabbles. Little something that sprung out of a sentence challenge Dawn – Oranges. Thanks, Countess Mary for the inspiration.

 

Flawed Design

 

It’s a game – always, as long as she can remember this – him - his blue eyes sparkle with the challenge just dangling out of reach for her. She can picture his smooth move to grab her hair like the immature asshole he is and Spike’s hand is just one tug away from her ponytail and she goes for it. Her tongue darts out. Sweet rich drops and one slow flick over his thumb before Dawn bites down through overripe fruit flesh –

 

The perfect surprise in his face is sweeter than the orange – must be her triumph over him.

 

Gotcha, vampire!

 

~O~

 

Their rules are flexible, bend like their bodies through laughter and he can’t remember why this is a bad idea so he doesn’t care. Grabs her from behind and hauls her over his shoulder. Squirming girl half-heartily thrumming against his back and she goes down for this.

 

Yeah, hosepipe style.

 

The cold water shocks her giggles into silence and now he remembers why. Why he shouldn’t have done this. Her wet t-shirt hides nothing, clings to her curves like a promise and he stands motionless, wondering, when she had the time to grow up.

 

Why he didn’t notice her change.

 

~O~

 

She thought about them. Before. Girlish dreams of her dusty knight saving her from Glory.

 

And when he ultimately failed her up on that tower – helplessly flying thought the night like a fucking rag doll, she only cursed herself for announcing his presence. She couldn’t save herself. He couldn’t. But that was okay, because she always counted on Buffy in that regard.

 

Dawn hopes her sister gets this strange co-dependency.

 

Had it before with Angel and she is the same age, at least on her fabricated birth certification. On rare moments she wants that for herself. Contentment. Her own memories.

 

~O~

 

Spike isn’t sure what he imagined her to be. Some shade of her fierce sister or green energy pulsing like novae. Sometimes he can’t look at her without wistful thinking and then she will surprise him with some gesture so fundamentally Dawn, that the thought of her as anything but is painful.

 

She’s untamed under his fingertips. Bones delicately breakable underneath her humming skin and she isn’t afraid. Not of him. Never. Not of this and that is a shock, because he is shaking to his core. She holds him closer.

 

Inviting him in under the cover of her smile.

 

~O~

 

It’s awkward at first –

 

His kiss bounces forth like a pendulum unsure of the right moment to swift back and she is almost more aware of the kitchen table pressing into her ass than she is of his hands on her hip. Dawn feels like laughing, if it weren’t for the tight knot in her stomach and then suddenly everything clicks.

 

Ignorance was bliss for a while.

 

He is the one who pretends to live and she feels deceased. Inhales his scent. They fit in a way like holy water on demon skin and she burns so sudden and unexpected.

 

~*~Fini – Flawed Design~*~