Jul. 16th, 2008 at 2:25 PM
So off I go this morning for the daily constitutional, to try and clock up some of the 10,000 odd steps we’re meant to take each day, before I sit on my arse and write for 16ish hours. SpEd, my fucktard plot bunny came along as always, and spelt out this little fic in my ear as we walked. He had to shout to be heard over the Metallica that was blowing out of my MP3 so I kinda got covered in SpEd bunny drool too.
Anyway I had an urge to kill Dawn, as I’m sure you all do if you really take the time to think about it. Dawnicide. Has a nice ring.
Here’s the result, a rewrite of the last few minutes of the Season 5 finale. It was a nice little break from Bonds.
Betaed by kitty_alex, although I don't know if she wants to be associated with this in any way, shape or form.
Title:The Gift that Keeps on Giving
Rating: Adult for implied stuff and swearing
Pairing: Bit of Spander
Warnings: Character bashing and killing. But you know its okay cause I love them all, except Dawn.
Summary/Mission Statement: Kill Dawn.
DISCLAIMER... None of the characters are mine. Shocking, I know. Also not making any money... and the surprises just keep coming. Joss Whedon (bless his little cotton socks) & Co own EVERYBLOODYTHING. I'mnotworthy I'mnotworthy. No breaches of any illegal breachable thing are intended. It's all done out of love, obsession, hero worship and horniness.
The Gift that Keeps on Giving
“GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!” The Key stood at the edge of the scaffolding, her high pitched shrieks echoing across the doomed town and causing thousands of innocent souls to reach urgently for the Tylenol.
Doc waited patiently until she had finished, then looked pointedly at the girl over the top of his glasses.
“What?” she asked.
“Get out?” He indicated the platform and the fact that they were standing outside at the highest point of the tower. “Shouldn’t you say get off?”
“Oh well, yeah , I was totally gonna say that but then I thought eww, it sounds a bit dirty, and you’re like so old and if you touched your, um , thing when I said that it would be completely gross.”
“Yes, I see,” Doc nodded sagely. “I suppose that would sound… oh go on, you’re going to die anyway, give it a whirl.”
Dawn shrugged and took a breath, not a big one mind, her lungs were pretty damn strong from endless practise. “GETOFFGETOFFGETOFF!” She opened her eyes and waited expectantly.
Doc looked down at the flat front of his trousers. Huh, won’t need to change the squick warnings after all.
“Right then, back to the business at hand.” He waved the knife and sliced neatly through her side. Shame really, the fabric on that dress was quite exquisite.
On cue, Dawn screeched again. “OOOOoooooOOOOoooowwwwww, you totally cut me!”
Doc nodded very slowly. Not the brightest crayon this girl.
Far below them Spike heard the familiar clarion call of the Bit. Bit of a pain in the arse, bit of an idiot. He shook his head, here we fucking go again. Buffy was busy kicking the Hell God’s skanky arse, killing her ten ways from Sunday with a dirty big hammer. The crazy witch was rocking herself in the corner, talking some nonsense or other about fuck knows what and who the hell cared anyway. Red was trying to pull some wicca mojo and talk inside his head but he was having none of that, bloody stupid idea someone needed their arse kicked for thinking a psychic gay witch was a good idea. The “justice demon” was sprawled on the ground muttering something about orgasms. And where the hell was the boy?
A quick look around and Spike spotted him sitting in the cab of a wrecking ball. Right, he was out of the way and safe to shag another day. Just as well, that boy fucked like a demon, and Spike would know. Only problem was, when he got going, he howled like a bloody Banshee with PMS, but that was nothing that a strategically place ball gag wouldn’t fix. Who knew the whelp was a screamer?
So, everyone else taken out of the game, looked like it was up to Ole Spike to get up the tower and save the day. Off he ran, straight for the stairs. A burst of demon speed and he was halfway there before the kid could draw breath for another round of ‘Make the vamps ears bleed’. Rounding the next landing, gracefully swinging himself out wide to get a nice fancy bit of coat flapping and flaring going on and Spike’s feet tangled in the hem of his duster sending him plummeting back to the ground, inconveniently pinned by a falling I-beam. Well, fuck, who would save the Bit now?
Doc and Dawn looked over the edge.
Dawn shook her head. “Oh see, now I always knew something like that would happen. I never got why he wore that thing when he was fighting.” Her voice was high pitched and whiny, like that mosquito that pissed you off on a hot summer night. “And Buffy’s stylish yet affordable boots? Sure they gave her a killer looking leg line but come on? Who does martial arts in a get up like that? And affordable? Nuh uh. She’s still paying those babies off.”
“So, you’re bleeding a bit there huh?” Doc asked, waving the knife and drawing her attention back to the issue at hand. He flicked his extensively enhanced tongue out and lapped up a little of the blood on her side.
Not surprisingly Dawn screamed. Oh yeah, thought Doc, the ladies loved the tongue. Dawn continued screaming. Doc waited. Her screamed changed to more of a squeal and Doc waited a little more. From a squeal to a whine and Doc was getting impatient. You would think those Monks could have made a more agreeable vessel for the damn Key. This one was beginning to piss him off no end.
“I should stick something in that mouth and shut you up young lady, but that would affect the ratings. Come on now, we have some ritual to attend to and some hell to unleash.”
Dawn stopped and slammed her lips tightly closed. Doc got on with things, counting off on his fingers. “Right now. There’s the blood letting, the ceremonial robes, the binding of the hands, the potential saviours have been sidetracked, I’ve talked for a while to allow the hero time to come and rescue you but sadly fashion and affectation took him out of the game. I think we’re ready.”
Doc pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and began to recite the magic words. “Magis sonitus commodo.. no, wait that’s not right, let me start again.” Damn Latin. From the top. “Iuguolo bardus puella,” Doc stuttered and stumbled. Below him Dawn’s blood slowly dripped through the air, bringing to life a swirling violet vortex. Doc’s attention was drawn down to the light.
Ooh, pretty. It reminded him of the way his lavender scented bath water twisted away down the plughole. NO! SANDALWOOD! SANDALWOOD! Certainly not lavender. He was no Miss Molly. Not like all the damn vampires in this town. He was the only non-gay in the demonic village. Doc had his suspicions about Carlos his pool cleaner though. Doc was pretty sure Carlos was gay, he could tell by the way he kept trying to slip him some tongue action when they fucked. Yes, definitely one of those gays.
The vortex grew bigger and swirlier. Any minute now Doc knew that all kinds of hell beasties would begin pouring out and decimating Sodomydale. Trying to ignore the fresh bout of the Key’s bawling, shrieking squeals, Doc wrung his hands together. Doc cackled; an evil cackle. Oh yeah he was Bad. Capital B Bad. Dr Evil had nothing on Doc, um, oh, he needed a name. Evil? No taken. Oh a synonym for evil, synonym for-. Doc Malevolent? Well yes, that was evil but was he really that bad? No, maybe Doc Wicked? Oh , no, that had a bit of a naughty ring to it. Couldn’t have nemeses giggling in the face of evil. Doc Immoral? Gads no, people might think he was one of those pillow biters. Doc Bad. Yes first thoughts were often the greatest. Doc Bad. Easy to spell, two syllables. He would get the T-shirt printed tomorrow. He resisted poking his pinky into the corner of his mouth and again focused on the brand new dimensional rift below.
Any minute. Dragons, monsters, wiggly things with slime, all would come rushing through… any minute now. Yep. Wouldn’t be long. Right about…now…aaaand… now. The sky began to lighten and still no creatures from beyond the world. Well this wasn’t right. How could you have an apocalypse in the daylight? And without apocalyptic creatures of doom? Doc pulled a second piece of paper out of his pocket. A checklist from Glorificus. Maybe should have looked this puppy over before the bloodletting.
“So now, got the key? Check. Key is wearing the robes? Check. Key is tied to the scaffold? Check. Key is bleeding? Check.” Doc Bad scanned the list for the bit that said Key needs a good slapping to shut her the hell up. Nope. Damn. He flipped the paper over and read through the second set of instructions. “Check, check, che-. Oh. Oh dear. Before the sun begins to rise and the sky is still black, slice the Key’s throat.”
Doc Bad looked at the Key. Doc Bad looked at the pink sky. Goddamn it all. There would be no beasts, creatures, monsters or fiends. He’d totally screwed this one up. The key was sagging against the ropes, looking rather pale, but still with the incessant squealing, granted it was dying down but still... Was she sick? Oh, yeah, right. Blood loss. Doc Bad cut the ropes that bound her wrists, grabbed her by the back of the criminally expensive yet heartbreakingly ruined fabric of her ceremonial robes and tossed her out into the vortex. No point leaving that thing open now. He would just slink off and hope that none of Glory’s worshippers had noticed he messed up.
The sun gradually inched its way over the horizon. On the ground below, the slayer’s minions gathered together around the suspiciously dead body of a doctor. Rupert Giles stood whistling innocently in the corner. Xander had used his latent hyena strength to pull Spike from beneath the steel bar and they stood by the slayer’s side. Staring up at the underside of Hell, they clutched their bleeding ears as Dawn fell screaming and screeching into the vortex and slammed into the pavement as the lights sealed off behind her.
“Well fuck,” Spike said. “Thank God that’s over.”
“Yeah,” Buffy agreed. “She was always loud wasn’t she.”
“Not like you were too attached right Buffster?” Xander asked. “You know, she was only around for a little while and she was pretty annoying.”
“No, yeah, you’re right. I was thinking of turning her room into a gym.”
Dawn broke over a new day in Sunnydale. The pink and purple kind, not the whinging, whining, screaming potentially kleptomaniac kind. She was so dead.
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