Strength in Numbers, part 15
Feb. 26th, 2007 12:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thatotherpervyou know, once a month something just goes 'bing' in my head, like...'oh, it's time to post more Strength now'. that happened today. :)
Title: Strength in Numbers
Author: Mel (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
btvslover82)
Pairings: Spike/Dawn, Angel/Spike, and Angel/Dawn. eventually S/A/D. References to A/B and S/B.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The nerds were successful in assassinating Buffy in late season 6, and this fic spins events out afterwards. See A/N in part 1 for where it goes AU.
Warnings: sex with a minor (16yo at the youngest point), eventual slash, eventual threesome, character death (Buffy, that is)…errr…. bloodplay. I think that's it.
Disclaimer: Joss would blush. I am, alas, still poor. don’t sue me.
Feedback: please!
Previous parts are here
banner by the talentedfanbot
Part 15
Spike’s proverbial blood pumped as he chased his prey round the corner and into the cemetery. Two baby slayers, and for a moment he allowed himself to pretend—fantasize—what he’d do if he were free of the chip. If he didn’t have Dawn to think of.
He wondered if they tasted as intoxicating as the real thing. He remembered the rush of it. Power and sex and death, all rolled into one spicy concoction that made his dick twitch.
He’d been too proud with the second, but had he known what the government had in store for him, William the Bloody would have drunk his fill of that one as well.
When his prey made the fatal error of rounding on him like frightened mice making a stand against the neighborhood tomcat—stakes clutched nervously in both hands—Spike reigned in the instinct to snap their necks. Just barely. Knocking the one out of the way and clutched the other to him, lunging in for the faux kill. She was a twiggy little thing, the redhead, and she shrieked, heart banging against this forearm as she passively waited for death.
Bloody hell, how was he supposed to save the world with backup like this?
Spike released her and quickly stepped back, slipping into teacher mode. Shaking off the game-face that wanted to stick because the air was heavy with terror and arousal.
Slayer line, in love with death—every last one of them. Plus, they all thought he was hot…as they well should.
“Alright…these two are dead. Why?”
There was a murmur of uncertainty through the nearby herd. The girl he’d knocked down rose to her feet, dusting herself off. “I’m dead because you’re a vampire. I don’t have slayer strength, slayer speed. It wasn’t a fair fight.”
“Cry me a bloody river. You think I’d care what’s fair?” Two and a half dozen blank stares were reflected back at him. “I see you’re still not gettin’ it. My instinct was to hunt you lot down, suck you dry, and use your corpses as funny little puppets until they began to stink.” They all paled. They didn’t know the half of it—the entirely different instinct they also provoked—but he only wanted them scared, not petrified to sleep under the same roof. “What was yours?”
Some brave soul spoke up. “Run. Keep running.”
“Right.” He turned to Twiggy. “You too?”
She nodded.
“Why’d you stop then?”
“I’m…we’re supposed to kill vampires. I thought—”
“Stop thinking. Killing vamps is the goal. But the first objective’s to not get dead, or the rest gets a bit difficult. Go with your gut. If you have any doubt of yourself at all, you’ll hesitate, and if that happens, you’re dead. Killed two slayers myself, and all it took was one good moment.”
Spike surveyed the crowd with dismay. Shakin’ in their boots.
“And they were a hell of a lot more formidable than you lot. But that’s why we’re here. Let’s go again. Any questions?”
Spike regretted the offer immediately as five hands shot up in the air.
He pointed at one. He wouldn’t even pretend to know her name. “What do you want.”
Silly bint shrank back from his short tone. “I was just wondering…just wondering, Mr. Spike, if this is going to be on the test.”
Oh for Christ’s—“One, I told you not to call me that. Two, for the last bloody time, there’s no bloody test!”
Three other hands wilted down from the air, apparently thinking along the same lines. Institutionalized little robots, every last one of them.
Spike ground his teeth, pointing to the last. “Yes?”
“When we get back, can we have hot chocolate? Because…” The bint wisely trailed off at the growl rumbling from his throat.
Spike had been generous in offering to take them out alone, but it wasn’t to be repeated. He’d kill them all if he had to do this again. Usually he left the real wrangling to Harris, who had a disturbing knack with teenage girls, but Spike had given he and Willow as much of a vacation as they could arrange under the circumstances. The girl was healing well, but Xander didn’t like to be far from her side just yet.
Spike couldn’t blame him. He himself was startlingly glad to have the witch back. And not just for practical reasons. Coming upon her so battered in that cave—Spike was glad he hadn’t sent Harris alone, because the boy had been too shaken to carry her out. Took it like a trooper, she did. Always was a good sort, and stronger than she looked in ways that had nothing to do with magic.
As it always did, Spike’s mind wandered to Dawn. Dawn, who would never dream of asking him for a snack at a time like this. Which brought him right back around to irritation.
“If you’re all very good,” Spike said finally, wanting to strangle them, “I’ll make sure ‘Mr. Harris’ gives you some before bed. But for the moment, let’s try to remember this isn’t sodding summer camp. Now can we get on with it?”
They all nodded quickly, nervousness wafting from them like a collective perfume. At least they weren’t all menstruating—they came into it en masse like clockwork. Frazzled his last bloody nerve.
Nibblet wasn’t anywhere near this worthless. He’d bet she was taking to her lessons like a duck to water. A breed apart, his girl.
~*~*~*~
“So, after I kick your ass, can we go out for pizza?”
“You’re not kicking my ass. And we just had pizza yesterday.” When Angel lobbed a series of punches in Dawn’s direction, she used her slighter form to dodge them as he’d taught her, surprising him when she popped up behind him and hit him hard in the kidneys.
Aahh. Good thing he wasn’t using those.
“Yeah, but that was delivery. There’s this new eat-in place I want to try. I saw it when I went to get tacos with Fred.”
They danced for a few moments and Angel squinted at her. “Shouldn’t we be feeding you vegetables or something?”
Dawn snorted. “Why, cuz everything else goes straight to my non-existent hips?”
His eyes dropped to them involuntarily. “They’re not…they’re….”
She struck in his moment of befuddlement and gave him a rattling uppercut to the jaw. Before he could recover and remind her that they were sparring, she hit him in the solar plexus.
Dawn backed off and watched him smugly. “Told you I was kicking your ass.”
“We’ll see about that.”
But he would let her win, of course he would. For now. There was time enough later for lessons about fallibility. This was about practicing technique.
Angel lobbed a kick at her side that would be easy enough to block. She did, kept her balance, and staged an attack too soon that was easily avoided. Started another ill-advised move, but this time it was a feint, and a good one at that. He didn’t realize her game until she was rounding on him for a kick.
He let it connect. The move left her right side open—she always left her right side open, no matter how many times he told her to keep it guarded.
He lunged in and struck, fingers digging into her ribs, merciless when she clutched her side and began to giggle.
“Angel! Angel, stop! Tickling…tickling isn’t playing faaaair.”
He grinned, using her off-balance posture to topple her to the ground and following her down, attacking her other side with tickling fingers as her hands flailed to protect her right.
“I dunno, a good warrior makes use of every available weapon. Write that down, it’s very important.”
Dawn was laughing in gasps, peels of giggles punctuated by screams—as if anyone in the hotel would think he was hurting her, when they heard the two of them. Angel found himself laughing too as she feinted a knee to the groin and went for his armpit instead, slender fingers digging into his flesh as he squirmed helplessly—knowing he could easily put a stop to her attack but not wanting to.
When was the last time he had played? Cordelia and Gunn and even Wesley had taught him to see life a little lighter, but even so, there was never such sheer silliness. Angel caught her off guard by switching his siege to the soft skin under the crook of her chin, and she squealed and went for his side.
His stomach hurt from laughing. His face was sore. Already sweaty from training, he was pleasantly exhausted from the endorphin rush.
Dawn wasn’t quite ready to cede the battle when he rolled onto his back, putting an end to the game, but he fended off her attempts at teasing him easily.
“Dawn…Dawn!” He caught her wrists and snorted laughter as he saw her faking a disappointed pout. “No more, I give up. Not all of us are young—”
Angel sighed out the rest of his sentence when Dawn brushed her mouth against his. She was watching him with wide gray-blue eyes locked on his own, obviously waiting to be rejected…but Angel found that he didn’t want to, and when she wasn’t, she repeated the innocent gesture. Testing the waters. But Angel wanted to kiss her, and for once, he couldn’t remember what was wrong with it. This wasn’t about Spike, and it wasn’t about Buffy. It was just about them.
“All available weapons,” she murmured. A grin stole over Angel’s face at the explanation before he cupped his hand at the base of Dawn’s skull and pulled her down for another kiss.
He waited until her eyelashes fluttered closed to fan against her cheek before he closed his own.
There was no first-kiss awkwardness. In some ways, it didn’t feel like a first kiss at all—they knew what to expect from one another. Dawn had been taught by his own protégé, so there was no need to negotiate over style. No awkward dancing.
But Angel had never kissed her. She was so…soft. Dawn could be strong-willed, but when she was content—when she got her way—she could be so guileless and silky. Sleepy little kitten. Darla and Buffy and even Drusilla all had their soft sides, but they kissed like predators. Hungry. And Spike, of course…that went without saying. None of them ever really put aside that part of themselves, the part that was at war with him. For what he was…for how easily he could hurt them. It was instinct. Always, always just the smallest part, on guard.
He couldn’t remember kissing anyone quite so delicate. She just yielded to him. Kissed him back with a little purr when he rocked her onto her back so his upper body covered hers. No defenses. Not a muscle tensed when he slid his lips over her throat, just a small hand curling into his hair, kneading her contentment.
It made him even more careful with his hands. He put no strength behind them when he cradled her face and brushed large thumbs over her cheeks. She was such a tiny little thing.
Made him feel big and protective and reluctant to do much more than slip his tongue along the inside of her lower lip. He pressed one last kiss to her mouth before easing back.
Dawn’s eyes blinked open drowsily. “Huh. Can’t say I actually expected….” She licked her lips. “What gives?”
“I just….” Angel didn’t really know why. His conversation with Cordy came to mind, but it was all too confusing. “I just wanted to.”
Dawn studied him a moment before smiling. “I can live with that.”
woohooo, more phone sex...let's face it, that's the only way Spike's getting any at the moment
A/N: Some dialogue adapted from Bs7’s Potential. And obviously I embellished on the number of girls. *g*
Title: Strength in Numbers
Author: Mel (
btvslover82)Pairings: Spike/Dawn, Angel/Spike, and Angel/Dawn. eventually S/A/D. References to A/B and S/B.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The nerds were successful in assassinating Buffy in late season 6, and this fic spins events out afterwards. See A/N in part 1 for where it goes AU.
Warnings: sex with a minor (16yo at the youngest point), eventual slash, eventual threesome, character death (Buffy, that is)…errr…. bloodplay. I think that's it.
Disclaimer: Joss would blush. I am, alas, still poor. don’t sue me.
Feedback: please!
Previous parts are here
banner by the talented
fanbotPart 15
Spike’s proverbial blood pumped as he chased his prey round the corner and into the cemetery. Two baby slayers, and for a moment he allowed himself to pretend—fantasize—what he’d do if he were free of the chip. If he didn’t have Dawn to think of.
He wondered if they tasted as intoxicating as the real thing. He remembered the rush of it. Power and sex and death, all rolled into one spicy concoction that made his dick twitch.
He’d been too proud with the second, but had he known what the government had in store for him, William the Bloody would have drunk his fill of that one as well.
When his prey made the fatal error of rounding on him like frightened mice making a stand against the neighborhood tomcat—stakes clutched nervously in both hands—Spike reigned in the instinct to snap their necks. Just barely. Knocking the one out of the way and clutched the other to him, lunging in for the faux kill. She was a twiggy little thing, the redhead, and she shrieked, heart banging against this forearm as she passively waited for death.
Bloody hell, how was he supposed to save the world with backup like this?
Spike released her and quickly stepped back, slipping into teacher mode. Shaking off the game-face that wanted to stick because the air was heavy with terror and arousal.
Slayer line, in love with death—every last one of them. Plus, they all thought he was hot…as they well should.
“Alright…these two are dead. Why?”
There was a murmur of uncertainty through the nearby herd. The girl he’d knocked down rose to her feet, dusting herself off. “I’m dead because you’re a vampire. I don’t have slayer strength, slayer speed. It wasn’t a fair fight.”
“Cry me a bloody river. You think I’d care what’s fair?” Two and a half dozen blank stares were reflected back at him. “I see you’re still not gettin’ it. My instinct was to hunt you lot down, suck you dry, and use your corpses as funny little puppets until they began to stink.” They all paled. They didn’t know the half of it—the entirely different instinct they also provoked—but he only wanted them scared, not petrified to sleep under the same roof. “What was yours?”
Some brave soul spoke up. “Run. Keep running.”
“Right.” He turned to Twiggy. “You too?”
She nodded.
“Why’d you stop then?”
“I’m…we’re supposed to kill vampires. I thought—”
“Stop thinking. Killing vamps is the goal. But the first objective’s to not get dead, or the rest gets a bit difficult. Go with your gut. If you have any doubt of yourself at all, you’ll hesitate, and if that happens, you’re dead. Killed two slayers myself, and all it took was one good moment.”
Spike surveyed the crowd with dismay. Shakin’ in their boots.
“And they were a hell of a lot more formidable than you lot. But that’s why we’re here. Let’s go again. Any questions?”
Spike regretted the offer immediately as five hands shot up in the air.
He pointed at one. He wouldn’t even pretend to know her name. “What do you want.”
Silly bint shrank back from his short tone. “I was just wondering…just wondering, Mr. Spike, if this is going to be on the test.”
Oh for Christ’s—“One, I told you not to call me that. Two, for the last bloody time, there’s no bloody test!”
Three other hands wilted down from the air, apparently thinking along the same lines. Institutionalized little robots, every last one of them.
Spike ground his teeth, pointing to the last. “Yes?”
“When we get back, can we have hot chocolate? Because…” The bint wisely trailed off at the growl rumbling from his throat.
Spike had been generous in offering to take them out alone, but it wasn’t to be repeated. He’d kill them all if he had to do this again. Usually he left the real wrangling to Harris, who had a disturbing knack with teenage girls, but Spike had given he and Willow as much of a vacation as they could arrange under the circumstances. The girl was healing well, but Xander didn’t like to be far from her side just yet.
Spike couldn’t blame him. He himself was startlingly glad to have the witch back. And not just for practical reasons. Coming upon her so battered in that cave—Spike was glad he hadn’t sent Harris alone, because the boy had been too shaken to carry her out. Took it like a trooper, she did. Always was a good sort, and stronger than she looked in ways that had nothing to do with magic.
As it always did, Spike’s mind wandered to Dawn. Dawn, who would never dream of asking him for a snack at a time like this. Which brought him right back around to irritation.
“If you’re all very good,” Spike said finally, wanting to strangle them, “I’ll make sure ‘Mr. Harris’ gives you some before bed. But for the moment, let’s try to remember this isn’t sodding summer camp. Now can we get on with it?”
They all nodded quickly, nervousness wafting from them like a collective perfume. At least they weren’t all menstruating—they came into it en masse like clockwork. Frazzled his last bloody nerve.
Nibblet wasn’t anywhere near this worthless. He’d bet she was taking to her lessons like a duck to water. A breed apart, his girl.
~*~*~*~
“So, after I kick your ass, can we go out for pizza?”
“You’re not kicking my ass. And we just had pizza yesterday.” When Angel lobbed a series of punches in Dawn’s direction, she used her slighter form to dodge them as he’d taught her, surprising him when she popped up behind him and hit him hard in the kidneys.
Aahh. Good thing he wasn’t using those.
“Yeah, but that was delivery. There’s this new eat-in place I want to try. I saw it when I went to get tacos with Fred.”
They danced for a few moments and Angel squinted at her. “Shouldn’t we be feeding you vegetables or something?”
Dawn snorted. “Why, cuz everything else goes straight to my non-existent hips?”
His eyes dropped to them involuntarily. “They’re not…they’re….”
She struck in his moment of befuddlement and gave him a rattling uppercut to the jaw. Before he could recover and remind her that they were sparring, she hit him in the solar plexus.
Dawn backed off and watched him smugly. “Told you I was kicking your ass.”
“We’ll see about that.”
But he would let her win, of course he would. For now. There was time enough later for lessons about fallibility. This was about practicing technique.
Angel lobbed a kick at her side that would be easy enough to block. She did, kept her balance, and staged an attack too soon that was easily avoided. Started another ill-advised move, but this time it was a feint, and a good one at that. He didn’t realize her game until she was rounding on him for a kick.
He let it connect. The move left her right side open—she always left her right side open, no matter how many times he told her to keep it guarded.
He lunged in and struck, fingers digging into her ribs, merciless when she clutched her side and began to giggle.
“Angel! Angel, stop! Tickling…tickling isn’t playing faaaair.”
He grinned, using her off-balance posture to topple her to the ground and following her down, attacking her other side with tickling fingers as her hands flailed to protect her right.
“I dunno, a good warrior makes use of every available weapon. Write that down, it’s very important.”
Dawn was laughing in gasps, peels of giggles punctuated by screams—as if anyone in the hotel would think he was hurting her, when they heard the two of them. Angel found himself laughing too as she feinted a knee to the groin and went for his armpit instead, slender fingers digging into his flesh as he squirmed helplessly—knowing he could easily put a stop to her attack but not wanting to.
When was the last time he had played? Cordelia and Gunn and even Wesley had taught him to see life a little lighter, but even so, there was never such sheer silliness. Angel caught her off guard by switching his siege to the soft skin under the crook of her chin, and she squealed and went for his side.
His stomach hurt from laughing. His face was sore. Already sweaty from training, he was pleasantly exhausted from the endorphin rush.
Dawn wasn’t quite ready to cede the battle when he rolled onto his back, putting an end to the game, but he fended off her attempts at teasing him easily.
“Dawn…Dawn!” He caught her wrists and snorted laughter as he saw her faking a disappointed pout. “No more, I give up. Not all of us are young—”
Angel sighed out the rest of his sentence when Dawn brushed her mouth against his. She was watching him with wide gray-blue eyes locked on his own, obviously waiting to be rejected…but Angel found that he didn’t want to, and when she wasn’t, she repeated the innocent gesture. Testing the waters. But Angel wanted to kiss her, and for once, he couldn’t remember what was wrong with it. This wasn’t about Spike, and it wasn’t about Buffy. It was just about them.
“All available weapons,” she murmured. A grin stole over Angel’s face at the explanation before he cupped his hand at the base of Dawn’s skull and pulled her down for another kiss.
He waited until her eyelashes fluttered closed to fan against her cheek before he closed his own.
There was no first-kiss awkwardness. In some ways, it didn’t feel like a first kiss at all—they knew what to expect from one another. Dawn had been taught by his own protégé, so there was no need to negotiate over style. No awkward dancing.
But Angel had never kissed her. She was so…soft. Dawn could be strong-willed, but when she was content—when she got her way—she could be so guileless and silky. Sleepy little kitten. Darla and Buffy and even Drusilla all had their soft sides, but they kissed like predators. Hungry. And Spike, of course…that went without saying. None of them ever really put aside that part of themselves, the part that was at war with him. For what he was…for how easily he could hurt them. It was instinct. Always, always just the smallest part, on guard.
He couldn’t remember kissing anyone quite so delicate. She just yielded to him. Kissed him back with a little purr when he rocked her onto her back so his upper body covered hers. No defenses. Not a muscle tensed when he slid his lips over her throat, just a small hand curling into his hair, kneading her contentment.
It made him even more careful with his hands. He put no strength behind them when he cradled her face and brushed large thumbs over her cheeks. She was such a tiny little thing.
Made him feel big and protective and reluctant to do much more than slip his tongue along the inside of her lower lip. He pressed one last kiss to her mouth before easing back.
Dawn’s eyes blinked open drowsily. “Huh. Can’t say I actually expected….” She licked her lips. “What gives?”
“I just….” Angel didn’t really know why. His conversation with Cordy came to mind, but it was all too confusing. “I just wanted to.”
Dawn studied him a moment before smiling. “I can live with that.”
woohooo, more phone sex...let's face it, that's the only way Spike's getting any at the moment
A/N: Some dialogue adapted from Bs7’s Potential. And obviously I embellished on the number of girls. *g*
