CoF - Laure Alexander - The Wayward Ward

Summary: I had this image for a long time, of Spike finding Dawn in an alley with a stanger, and calling her a trollop. So...here it is. Season 7 didn't end as it did and Buffy dies sometime in the near future leaving Spike in charge of Dawn. Dawn is over 18 in this fic.

AUTHOR: Laure Alexander
EMAIL: lara@sunflower.com
RATING: NC-17
PAIRINGS: Spike/Dawn
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of the characters on the show. Joss Whedon and the WB Network own them (for now). No copyright infringement intended, so please don't sue.
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Pressed against the brick wall, the rough texture scraping her naked back as each movement shoved her shirt higher, Dawn keened in helpless pleasure and clung to the narrow shoulders of her own avenging angel. His hands dug into her thighs as he held her off the ground, legs spread wide by his hips. His coat sheltered them both, but nothing could hide the sounds she was making.

How many years had she wanted this? How many substitutes had she used to try to find this?

As his cock stabbed into her again and again, with no patience, no attempt at pleasuring, she came for the third time and squealed in ecstatic release. Her whole body shook and her fingernails tore into the taut skin of his neck as the orgasm rolled through her on seemingly endless waves.

And he continued to pound into her, so hard she could feel the bruises forming on her pelvis and inner thighs, could feel his fingers digging into her bottom.

Spike's growl of fury and lust filled her senses and Dawn felt her inner muscles clench as another orgasm began to build.

One o'clock in the morning came and went and still she hadn't come home. Rationally Spike knew that Dawn was an adult now and didn't have to come home, didn't have to call him to let him know where she was.

But, although sealed for three years, this was still the Hellmouth and there were still dangers for which even daily training in self- defense couldn't prepare a mortal girl.

Angrily blowing smoke out his nostrils, Spike strode down the streets of Sunnydale, trying to catch his wayward ward's scent. She'd gone out with her friends to the Bronze, but her scent there was faint. From there he'd followed her through back streets and alleys, wondering what the hell she was up to.

Even though he knew her virginity was long gone, her innocence stolen from her even earlier, it infuriated him. Blocks away, he could smell the scent of hard alcohol, tobacco, cheap aftershave and masculine sweat.

These weren't the scents he usually associated with her frat boy, jock boyfriends. They smelled of expensive cologne, beer and money.

Turning the corner into a dark alley behind an abandoned warehouse, the sounds hit him harder than the scents.

"Horny slut...take it...harder..." came a guttural voice from the far end of the alley.

"Ummmmm...Yeah, gimme your dick, baby." Her pleasure- roughened voice tore through Spike and he staggered.

Knowing his Niblet was screwing the quarterback in the backseat of his car was one thing. Coming face to face with her doing...this...

The man's fat, pumping ass came into view first, and Spike disappeared into the shadows. The fucker wore a grungy white t-shirt with something obscene printed on the back, his jeans were around his ankles, and he was fucking with enthusiasm if little skill. Roughened hands with nicotine-stained fingers gripped the little, pink bottom of the girl draped over a stack of crates.

Moving silently closer, Spike got a view of Dawn's face and frowned at the look of boredom as she mewled and pumped her hips backwards.

As he stared in shock at the sight of Dawn both getting fucked and faking pleasure, his attention was drawn to the man pulling out of her, releasing the scent of spunk into the air.

Fury swept through Spike and, no longer thinking rationally, he shoved aside the crate concealing himself and grabbed the half- naked man, throwing him hard against the far wall.

As he crumpled unconscious, the vampire turned his attention to the girl who was pushing herself up onto shaky arms. In an instant one hard hand found the nape of her neck, shoving her back down, as a loud hiss sounded in her ear.

A shiver went through Dawn, and she tried to turn her head to confirm what her body screamed to her: the identity of the man pinning her to the dirty crates. She felt the leather brush against her naked hips, and the shiver became a shudder of desire.

"Is this how you get your kicks, Dawn?" Spike hissed again, his fingers tightening convulsively around her neck. "Picking up strange men twice your age and letting them fuck you in deserted alleys?"

Jerking his fingers away as if burned, Spike stumbled back a step and stared as she rose and turned. Her blouse was open as was her bra, baring her small, round breasts, the nipples dark and hard, the skin surrounding them bruised by the rough boards.

Her tight leather skirt was around her waist and she wore no underwear. Semen ran down her inner thighs, making Spike's lip curl in disgust. "And you let that bastard fuck you without protection?"

"I'm on the pill," Dawn muttered sullenly, leaning back on her hands against the crate, not even attempting to cover herself.

Spike snorted again and his eyes flickered gold as he swept them up and down her body. "Get dressed."

"...No." Spike's anger finally began to make an impression on her, and she looked nervously at the man still unconscious in a heap amongst the garbage.

"Tough shit. Maybe if you didn't fake it so well, a guy might try harder," as he spoke, he reached for her skirt, meaning to jerk it down. Dawn shifted and his hand touched the wetness between her legs.

Spike swallowed hard and harshly said, "You're sister would be so disappointed in you."

The anger fled Dawn's face replaced by shock, which quickly turned to fury as she flung herself at him, beating on his chest. "You bastard. Cocksucking bastard!"

Catching her wrists, Spike drove her back against the wall and pinned her hands over her head. "Can't take the truth?" he sneered.

Squirming and calling him more names, Dawn tried to thrust her knee into his groin, but only managed to brush against him.

Spike glared down into her wide, no longer innocent eyes, and ground his hips against her. "Yeah, I'm hard. You gave as good a show as any porn star."

He slammed one knee between her legs and forced them apart and up, driving her to her toes as he settled her on his taut thigh. "I can feel your heat through my jeans," he hissed into her ear. Dawn squirmed, rubbing herself against his leg. "Slut."

"Yeah, but you're the one who wants the slut, Spike." She grunted as she rubbed harder, her clit swollen and hungry. Her movements made him undulate uncontrollably against her, until they were both writhing together.

With a sharp cry that tore through Spike's ragged defenses, Dawn came, shuddering against him, her wetness soaking through his jeans to ignite the skin below. Yanking at his snap and zipper, he freed himself and grabbed her, lifting her off the ground and slamming her legs apart with his hips.

"I'm going to burn in hell for this," he muttered as he drove her down onto his cock, and then howled at the pleasure of her still quivering muscles clenching around him.

"We'll burn together," she gasped out, clinging to him as he began to pound into her at a punishing pace. "Fuck me, oh god Spike, fuck me."

Howling in lust and dismay Spike buried his face in her shoulder and proceeded to do just that.

After the fourth orgasm, Dawn began to notice the pain. Exhaustion was weighing heavily on her and her inner thighs felt bruised and sore. Her back was abraded by the rough brick, and there was a spreading sore on her neck from his teeth. And inside she felt like she was being pummeled.

He ignored her and kept thrusting, his fingers simply digging deeper into the soft flesh of her bottom.

"Spike, you're hurting me," she finally complained. A growl reverberated against her neck, but still he continued. "This isn't fun anymore. Stop." The last was a wail of pain as the skin on her back tore from a particularly brutal thrust.

Spike stopped. Still holding her pressed hard to the unyielding wall, he panted harshly into her ear, "This was never fun." In an easy movement that betrayed just how inhuman he was, he swung them around and shoved her down onto a long crate, coming over her, still joined. Propping himself up with his hands on either side of his head, he stared down into her wounded, petulant eyes and snarled.

"You wanted me to fuck you. What did you think you were going to get, Dawn? Hearts and flowers? Gentle kisses? A nice poke in a soft bed? I'm a vampire. This is how we fuck." And he stared slamming into her again.

Dawn sobbed and flung one arm over her eyes, unable to look at the disgust on his face for both of them. All desire fled, and she lay limp and beaten, praying he'd finish soon.

Still unable to look at him, she felt him rise from her aching body, heard the sound of a zipper, then the flick of a lighter. Cigarette smoke wafted over her face, and anger filled her.

Lowering her arm from her face, she glowered up at him, and quickly sat up to fumble with her clothes. Pulling her panties out of the waistband of her skirt, she tried her best to clean herself up with them, then flung the soiled scrap of silk at him, hitting him in the chest.

Spike let the panties fall and surveyed her cooly as he took another drag on his cigarette. Red in the face, Dawn rose on shaky legs to tug her skirt down and button the last of her shirt buttons. Every part of her body ached, and she hated him at that moment more than she'd ever hated anyone.

The pale mask disappeared, fury twisting his face, as he flicked away the cigarette and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her with quick, hard jerks. "Shut up. You don't know anything about that. You don't know how sorry I am..."

Freezing and going even more pale if that was possible, Spike shoved her away and stumbled backwards, mumbling, "You asked me to fuck you."

His eyes shot to her angry face. "And you got off on it," he accused back. "That piece of shit couldn't even get you warm," he said, pointing to the still unconscious man. "I barely had to touch you and you were squealing in pleasure."

Against her will, Dawn flushed and wrapped her arms across her chest in self-defense.

They stared at each other for a long moment, then Spike sighed, ran a hand through his hair and turned to leave the alley. Shocked, Dawn stared after him as he took long strides down the cracked pavement, then she stumbled after him.

Home. Where they'd lived in platonic companionship since Buffy's death. Where he'd thrown her a graduation party, and a going to college party. Where they'd celebrated quiet Christmases and boisterous Halloweens. Where they'd mourned their losses.

Tears filling her eyes, Dawn hurried faster to catch up with him, finally grabbing his coat sleeve and tugging him to a stop. He turned to face her, and noted her tears and the fear imprinted on her face.

Her voice was so small and lost, wiping away his instinctive 'yes'. The need to comfort pushed aside the anger, and he raised a hand to cup her pale, tear-streaked cheek. "Dunno," he answered honestly, then admitted, "If so, you didn't do it alone."

Fresh tears spilled from her eyes, sliding over his fingers, and she wrapped her hand around his wrist, pressing his palm to her face. "I'm sorry. I...I don't know why I do this. Why do I pick up strange men and fuck them in dank alleys? What's wrong with me that I'm so nasty?"

"Luv...You're just human." With his free arm, he embraced her shoulders, pulling her against his chest. With her heels on, she was his height, and his hand slipped away so that they were cheek to cheek.

"I've wanted you for years, but I buried it, y'know. I wanted the friendship. I needed that more. And so I never said anything and I looked for substitutes, but they were never enough. And I knew you'd never want me back, because what am I but a poor substitute for Buffy. I understand that. And that I'm just a kid to you and you're so worldly and my whole world and..."

Spike stopped her babbling with a soft kiss, and when he pulled back, her eyes shown with wonder and fear. "I watched you grow up," he murmured, running one hand over her tangled hair, "Yet I didn't see you as a grown up. You were still my Niblet." Sorrow filled his eyes and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Until tonight."

"I did ruin everything, didn't I," Dawn choked out, trembling in his loose embrace.

"I don't know," he replied, "I really don't. I don't know where we can go from here."

"I can't bear it if you leave me. Even if you hate me forever and can't stand to look at me, don't leave me."

"Couldn't if I wanted to, luv. I made a promise to a lady." He gazed back down into her no longer innocent eyes. "I made a promise to you."

A tremulous smile crossed Dawn's face. "Can we go back to the way it was? Forget tonight ever happened?"

Spike shook his head glumly. "The only way to go is forward. I..." He stopped and stepped back, only to reach out and cup both her cheeks. "We just need to get past tonight first."

"We've survived everything else." He sighed softly. "Oh, Dawnie, a part of me wishes this had never happened, and a part of me feels it was inevitable."

"I could have stopped you. I could have said 'no'." Dawn pressed herself back into his arms, burying her face in his cool neck. "I'm sorry I hurt you, 'Bit," he breathed.

"I have some ideas on that, too." Lifting her head, Dawn caught his confused and slightly amused gaze. "You said you'd burn in hell. Hell's not so bad."

She nodded and kissed him until he returned the kiss and left her breathless. "It can't be bad when you kiss me like that."

"I'm still not sure this is right, Dawn, that there's any future, that we won't end up hating each other tomorrow morning," he cautioned.

"But there's a possibility?" At his nod, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Then kiss me again."

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Laure Alexander - lara@sunflower.com

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