This is the second part of the Spiral!Verse. The first part, Waiting... can be found here.

Prompt: Week#13 – Bait-and-Switch
Warnings: Language, mentions of underage sex, prostitution and drug usage
Rating: R (this chapter)
Summary: Spike begins drawing Dawn down a dark path.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the BtVS characters. I am just dressing them up and making them play around a bit. It's free for all to enjoy, and fun - please don't sue.

Warning: Contains graphic BDSM This is a work of fiction, I do not encourage or endorse BDSM involving minors. It is an activity only to be undertaken by consenting adults.


C. Woodhaven

Part One

Spike sat on the open window sill smoking and watching her, his blue haired pixie, asleep in his bed as if it were the safest place on Earth.  He wondered if this is what Angelus felt when he’d seen Drusilla for the first time.  Not that he cared if it was the same or not, because Dawn was his and he had so many delightful plans for her.  

He’d agreed to her bargain only because he knew she’d never leave him.  One way or another she’d spend eternity by his side.


Spike returned to Sunnydale reluctantly.  The slayer and her crew stood out as one huge loose end that he was longing to tie off, and he had plans for them. Big plans.  Most involved screaming, bloodshed and torture.  And begging. He was really looking forward to the begging, kind of petty, but the cheap thrills sometimes were the best.

He’d spent a fair bit of time staking out all their hang-outs, watching them as he had when he’d first arrived so many years ago to the god-forsaken town.  Their little group had dwindled down to nothing. Anya, Joyce and the Watcher were all out of the picture, whether dead or just gone wasn’t clear.  He’d seen the witch’s girl at the magic shop once, but the two of them seemed to be at outs.  She barely spoke to Red, just purchased some herbs and left.  Even the boy seemed to be out of the picture, leaving the witch and the slayer on their own more often than not.  

Buffy was a shadow of her former self, going through the motions.  Her heart obviously wasn’t in her calling any longer.  He’d watched her stumble through patrol several evenings, killing the obvious vamps and demons, but totally missing anything that was in the least bit subtle.  He could have easily killed her a dozen times over.  She’d gone from a magnificent predator to a toothless old tiger, hunting humans because they were slow enough to catch and eat.  She wasn’t even thinning the herd any longer, just culling the sick and the weak.  It was sad.  

Even Nikki, who had pretty much been begging for an end to the slayage gig, hadn’t been this pathetic.  She’d danced with him for weeks before their final subway tango.  From the looks of it, Buffy wouldn’t even be able to hold her own doing the two-step.  He… really had to give up the dance analogies.  

After all this time and effort watching her, he was loathe to admit it, but Buffy was no longer worthy of his attention.  Killing her wouldn’t be much of an accomplishment at all, kind of pointless to kill a slayer if you couldn’t brag about it.  Problem was, now that he was here, he was dying for a fight.  He was all revved up and had nowhere to go.

So he followed her.  Most evenings after working at the polyester palace or a pathetic attempt at patrol she headed to the industrial side of town, near the warehouse district.  Always heading to the same place.  She’d stop when she reached a long stretch of chain link fencing and fit her hands inside the diamond shaped slots, staring out into the yard.  She stare and sigh at the wreckage, occasionally moving further down, dragging a hand along the fence to make the metal zing, before repeating the ritual.

Spike couldn’t see what held her interest; the place was in ruins, holding only the pulverized remnants of a few buildings and a disproportionate amount of metal scaffolding poking up like rusty jagged teeth.  There didn’t seem to be much to look at.

This evening though, when she reached a hole in the fence, she looked nervously around.  Spike barely ducked out of sight before she’d looked his way.  She’d been so out of it, he’d gotten sloppy about keeping himself hidden.  Convinced that she was alone, she slipped into the yard and started making her way through the wreckage.  Curious, Spike waited a few moments and then slipped in after her.


“I don’t know why we have to keep meeting here, Buff.  Xander’s all grow’d up with an apartment and a bed and everything” Xander complained, looking frustrated, “Not to mention there’s the fun and exciting fact that you almost died here.”

“It’s not that I like it here, but Willow’s got a key to your place.  Or what if Dawn came by?  This is just… safer,”  Buffy said evasively.

“I could change the lock,” Xander whispered, but Buffy wasn’t listening.  She was busy unzipping Xander’s pants, and was pushing them down, boxers and all, exposing Harris’ surprisingly impressive cock and stroking it in her tiny fist before he’d even finished the sentence.

“I want you, Xander. Please, please want me too,” Buffy begged, sounding pathetically desperate to Spike.  Her hand was moving faster now, and Spike could tell that she was clutching the boy so hard it was hurting him.  Not a surprise that Harris got off on a little pain though.

“God, Buff, you know I do, I l-..” Xander began before she silenced him with a kiss.  It was hard and punishing and designed to shut Harris up.

When she pulled back, she panted, “Xander, we’ve got to hurry.  Dawn’s at the Bronze, I was supposed to be there…” she trailed off, as she leaned up to kiss him again.

Spike had to admit, Xander held up pretty well under her assault.  She manhandled him around, slamming him into a pile of rubble before pouncing on him.  She barely got undressed, just ripped her panties off and slid on.  She was punishing, ruthlessly working toward her own satisfaction and dragging the boy along for the ride.

Spike thought about killing them both and leaving them to be found like this, eternal coitus interruptus.  Fifty years ago, maybe he would’ve, but this really wouldn’t be that shocking nowadays, especially in Sunnydale.

He headed toward the hole in the fence.  Little Dawnie was all alone at the Bronze… maybe it was time to visit the ‘Bit.


He easily lured Dawn up to the catwalk, where she’d searched for him for a few moments before giving up in desperation. She walked over to the rail and looked down over the dwindling crowd.  Gone was the bratty fourteen year old he’d left behind, awkward and energetic as a puppy.  Most obvious was the hair and piercing, but her attitude had also changed in his time away.  She seemed lost and wore her misery around her like a shroud.

Sliding in behind her, he inhaled the heady scent of her innocence, surprised to find it tainted now.  She was more than she appeared.  There was a supernatural darkness in her that he’d never noticed before.  It pulsed within her, like sickly green fire.  He couldn’t believe he’d missed it before.  She was a jewel, and in that split second he realized that he wanted to possess her, to strip the last of her innocence away so the darkness inside her could shine.

As he headed back to his lair for the day, his head full of images of Dawn, he felt the familiar stirrings of obsession take hold, and welcomed them.  It was good to have a project again, something to keep him occupied.  Ironic really, he’d come to the Hellmouth expecting to find a slayer to kill, and while he was disappointed the one he wanted was no longer available, the Hellmouth had offered up this intriguing secondary option. He’d have to alter his plans, invest more time than he’d intended, but in the end it would be worth it.

He’d quickly picked up a working girl on the way back, bedraggled thing that she was, lingering on the street corner like an abandoned kitten.  He’d bet one hundred quid she wasn’t a day over fifteen, hair a garish burgundy color and poorly hidden track marks racing up her arms like urban tattoos.  The rancid smell of desperation was coming off her in waves, so she must be looking for a score.  He’d taken her from behind in the shower, hoping to sluice off some of the stench.

He closed his eyes as visions of his pixie danced in his mind.  He could see her, kneeling in the shower with her wide blue eyes looking up at him innocently.  Her hair would be darkened to the color of a fresh bruise from the water, and she’d open her sweet mouth, silently begging to be allowed to suck him off.  When he felt his balls draw up signaling his impending orgasm, he pinned the girl to the shower wall and covered her mouth.  Fangs descended and plunged deep into her neck, sucking out her life even as he shot wave after wave of semen into her screaming and thrashing body.  

He’d turned off the water and dried off, yawning, leaving her nearly silent and slumped in the corner. Only the  plink, plink, plink of water dripping from her cooling body onto the tiled floor left to remind him she’d even existed. He dropped his towel carelessly to the floor, and flopped into bed, yawing again.  He’d make sure to clean up later.

Warm both inside and out from his shower and his meal, he crossed his hands behind his head on the pillow, musing.  The slayer would be shattered if he filched Dawn right out from under her.  It possibly would do even more damage than killing her.  Buffy’s death would be over in a second; even torture could only last a few days, but forcing her to live with the knowledge that her baby sister had chosen a monster?  Pain like that would last a lifetime.

He drifted off to sleep with a grin on his face and visions of corrupting his sweet little girl in his head.


He spent the following days redirecting his efforts, watching Dawn instead of the slayer, getting to know her better.  This Dawn was more jaded with walls around her to keep others away.  He caught glimpses of the younger version occasionally, but only when they were alone.  She was still hopeful, but that hope was fading fast.  Every interaction he observed with her friends and family, she came off as the one in the wrong, marginalized or excluded.

It was too perfect really.  She was easy to lead astray, and he was just the demon for the job.  He didn’t even have to draw her away from the fold, she came running.  All he had to do was sit back and pick up the pieces

Seducing Dawn the old fashioned way was slow work and he realized she didn’t have a clue what he was doing.  She’d pull away nervously every time he touched her, afraid he’d twig to the idea she had a crush on him.  It was sweet and a little tiresome.

The night he took her, she’d been worth the wait.  She’d been so close to his fantasy, kneeling before him licking his cock, that he’d wanted to force himself into her warm mouth.  He knew she wasn’t ready, just as he’d known she wasn’t ready to kneel properly without her panties on.  So he’d let her keep them, instead of having her spread her pussy for him to see as he’d wanted.  She’d do all those things and more before long anyway, no need to rush things.

Later he couldn’t believe the control she’d shown, legs spread wide and her thighs trembling with the effort not to move as he deliberately drove her insane.  He tormented her intentionally until she was beyond needy, sobbing brokenly under his assault and then pulled away, forcing her to demand her own pleasure or be left wanting.   She’d risen beautifully to the challenge, forcing his head between her legs, and keeping it there until she was satisfied.  Sliding into her tightness for the first time and hearing her sharp cry of pain from his entry was one of the most exquisite things he’d ever heard.

She’d sealed her fate when she’d knowingly invited the monster inside her, as she had the man.  Dawn let her fear spur her on instead of drive her away, holding steady even as she was terrified.  Locking eyes with him he felt as if they were weaving an enchantment, binding them together.  He’d almost turned her then, lapping at the rich and heady virgin blood between her thighs had nearly been too much.  He’d been right about her darkness, the blood didn’t lie.  She was special, the flavor a rich mixture of innocence and evil and woven through it all the unexpected taste of slayer danced across his tongue.

Once he'd cleaned the last bit away, Spike pulled back, fully intending to plunge his fangs into her thigh tearing at the flesh and drinking her down and allowing her to embrace the darkness.  He saw a similar scenario flit across her face and smiled.  She was afraid, but didn’t draw away.  Vaguely it reminded him of someone, a pretty maid from his past perhaps.  Whatever the reason, it made him realize that he had to wait.  Savor her warmth and work at removing any lingering traces of the light from her before he made her completely his.

“You’re staring at me,” Dawn said, not lifting her head from the pillow, dragging him out of his reverie.

“Yeah,” Spike replied, exhaling a plume of smoke.

“I look like Grungy Smurf, stop it,” she grumbled, sitting up and looking at him, rumpled and owlish with her sleepy eyes.

“Don’t think I remember that one,” he laughed, flicking the last bit of his smoke out across the parking lot.  

He closed the window and pulled the shades before stripping down to just his jeans.   He propped up a pillow against the headboard and sat down on the bed next to her.  Once he’d situated himself against the headboard, she crawled into his lap and snuggled back against him, her back to his front.

“You know with the blue hair and the frumpy clothes,” she sniffed herself, “that smelled. I should have changed before I left.”

“You’re fine.  Or you could just get naked and take a shower,” he added hopefully.

Dawn was toying with the ends of her hair, and didn’t answer.

“What’s running through that head of yours?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Do you like my hair like this?” she asked, still playing absently with the ends.

“Do you?” he countered; he had an idea of why it was an issue, but was surprised she’d brought it up so soon.

“Not really.  I kind of did it to piss Buffy off, and now,” Dawn shrugged, “I want to change it, I think. Plus, it makes me kind of obvious.  Even if Willow can’t find me with magic, blue haired girl with platinum blond guy kinda sticks out in a crowd, you know?”

“Makes sense. What color you thinkin’ about?”

“Maybe...” she trailed off, and shrugged “I don’t know, maybe back to the original I guess.”

He grabbed the strand she was playing with and tugged it.  “What color?”

“Black,” she admitted, whispering, “but I don’t have to.”

“Sounds fetching, why don’t you think… ah,” Spike made the connection.  She didn’t want to look like Drusilla.  Clever of her to make the correlation, but really not an issue.

“I’m not trying to be her,” Dawn said quietly, and then asked hesitantly, “Were you… with her…when you were away?"

He heard the underlying implication in her question.  Did he sleep with Drusilla while he was gone?  

He slid one hand from her waist down to cup her sex, delighting at her gasp of surprise.  He leaned to whisper in her ear, “I’ll answer whatever you want, Kitten, but after that,” he squeezed his hand, “I want to play.  Deal?”

As afraid as she was about finding out the truth, not knowing was so much worse.  “Deal,” she replied nervously.

Part Two

“So, what do you want to know?” Spike asked, leaving his hand where it was cupped around her sex.

Even though quite a few questions flashed through her mind, Dawn easily selected one.  It was the one that no one in Sunnydale would ever answer for her.  “What happened that night, with Buffy?  Why did you leave?”

“I’d had enough, Kitten,” Spike said simply.   I’d had enough didn’t really even begin sum up the reason he left, but they would do.  

“But what happened?” Dawn persisted.  If she was going to have to somehow pay Spike back for this information, she wasn’t going to let him off easily.  “You seemed to be totally crushing on her, and then you were gone.  What did she do?”

Spike mulled over this for a few moments, he had no intention of rehashing that evening.  Finally, he grudgingly offered her more information.  “She made me realize that I was trying to be a man, Kitten, and that’s not something I ever will be again.  The chip made me soft. I had to leave.”

“Where did you go?” Dawn asked quietly.


When Spike had first left the alley behind the Bronze, he only had one goal in mind.  Kill that blonde bitch of a slayer.  He still seethed when he thought of how she callously dismissed him.  As if he was her errand boy.  When he’d gotten back to his crypt, he fully intended to grab his shotgun and put her six-feet beneath him.  

Harm had shouted after him “You couldn’t kill her before you got the chip. You had plenty of chances!”

The comment gave him pause, even if it had come from that nattering twat.  Why exactly was it that he couldn’t kill Buffy?  Even Dru had seen it, said that was what drove her away from him.  She said he tasted like ashes, all because of a skinny blonde thing he should have been able to break in half.  

He didn’t need this, didn’t need this town, didn’t need Harm, didn’t need anything except to get this fucking piece of plastic out of his head.  It was making him soft.  

Instead of heading to the slayers and blowing the bitch’s brains out, he took off.

Last he’d heard, Dru was in L.A., so that’s where he headed.  Once he hit the city that first night he started looking around for signs of a nest.  Any large group of vamps would do.  He’d be able to get the lay of the land, so to speak, and figure out where his princess was feeding.  

He’d found a nest just before sun-up and holed up there for the day.  It only took killing about half a dozen of the stupid sods before they offered to help him out.  By the time he went out hunting the next evening, he had a pretty good idea where to begin looking.

The music thumped loudly outside the rave, it was the third one he’d visited tonight.  He was getting close though, he could feel it.  He absently wished that the Sire homing rubbish found in so much vampire fiction was true.  It would make this so much easier.  Instead he had to look about for clues she left behind.  

He crouched over the latest body he’d found, and chuckled.  She knew he was looking for her. He’d been fairly certain before, but looking at the girl lying on the ground now, he was positive.  She’d been leaving messages for him all night, a trail of dead bodies instead of bread crumbs.  Each one, a petite athletic girl in her early twenties, fashionably dressed with long dyed blonde hair.  Buffy.

“Thought you’d never find me,” she said, coming out of the shadows.

He stood up, and looked at her. She was breathtaking, as always.  His dark goddess.  “’lo, Dru.” He held out his hand to her.  When she took it in hers and allowed him to pull her toward him, time stopped, as it always had between them.

“I can hear it humming and buzzing, my sweet Spike,” Drusilla whispered, her head resting against his chest.  “My poor boy wasting away to nothing.”

Spike kissed the top of her head, wallowing in the scents of thousands of similar nights.  He fondly remembered silent dances between the two of them over the cooling corpses of their meals. “Can you help?” he asked unable to keep the desperation from his voice.

“I’ve met the most interesting people, all shiny and evil.  Like cold black jewels,” she pulled away, “Come with me, and I’ll show you.”


Spike stared out the window, looking at L.A. in the sunlight.  He heard the door open behind him, but didn’t bother turning around.

“William the Bloody, I presume?” a cultured voice spoke behind him.

Spike slowly turned around.  “Just Spike,” he said curtly to the lawyer who had entered the office.  

“Yes, of course, Spike.” The lawyer stuck out his hand. “Holland Manners.”  

Spike just looked at the extended hand and didn’t move.  Manners waited a moment and withdrew it, not looking the least bit offended.  

“So, Spike.  What can Wolfram & Hart do for you?” Manners asked jovially.

“Dru says you might be able to get this thing out of my head,” Spike replied, touching his temple.  “Wanted to know what’ll cost me.”

“Ah yes, the Initiative.  We’ve helped several clients who escaped their care. I’d say it would cost you your soul, but...,” Manners trailed off shrugging.

“Already got markers out on that one,” Spike said, “What else?”

“You’ve heard of our little project with Angel?”

“Yeah, but ’m not who you want for that job.  Likely send the bastard screaming back to the light, wouldn’t I?  He and I don’t see eye to eye on much these days.”

Manners nodded.  “We do have some freelance work available.  You’d be under contract to us until we saw fit to free you, but it could be mutually beneficial.”

Spike shook his head, “Not looking for another leash, mate. I’ll do jobs for you, but nothing open ended.”

Manners paused for a moment and then nodded. “I think we can work with that. I’ll get something drawn up. We can have the chip removed in about an hour.  Will that be soon enough?”    

Spikes lips curled up in a grin, and he nodded.

Manners picked up the phone and pressed the button for his secretary. “Can you have someone from contracts set up here? And have Agent Hauser meet us in recovery room C, will you?”


So quick, it was.  An incision, a few pokes and a tug and William the Bloody was back.  They even provided a post-op meal for him.  Spike was so happy to be back in business, he didn’t even have time to relish the kill.  She was a pretty thing too, all tearful and shaking.  He shrugged as he dropped her to the floor, he’d just have to take his time with the next one.  

A jumped up military type who introduced himself as Hauser was holding a thick folder with what Spike hoped was the names of widows and small children who had wronged the law firm or seen too much.  

They were heading back to Hauser’s command center when Spike froze mid-stride.  It took his brain a minute to catch up with the rest of his senses.  Darla was standing there next to a pretty boy lawyer talking on his cell phone. And she was human.  Spike closed the distance between the two of them in the blink of an eye and pinned her to the wall with a forearm across her shoulders and throat. Not hurting her, but keeping her immobile.

Spike relished the brief tang of fear that wafted from her. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Never thought I’d smell that from you.” It was a scent that he’d remember for the rest of his unlife.

She pushed ineffectually against him, and then rolled her eyes. “Let go of me, Spike!”

He laughed.  Her lawyer friend was attempting to pull him off, and yelling frantically for security, but Spike ignored him.

“I don’t know why Drusilla kept you around,” Darla sighed exasperatedly.

“You remember.  Caught us at it often enough,” Spike said laughing.  He ground his hips against her briefly before he let her go and stepped back.

“Lindsey, it’s fine,” she said to the  pretty boy.  Lindsey-boy caved in less than a heartbeat. Spike could see a healing reddish ring of human teeth marks along the guy’s neck.  Darla still had that talent for wrapping them around her fingers.

Hauser walked up to him and placed his hand on Spike’s shoulder.  “Sir?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Spike said waving him off, “Just catching up with old friends.”  

“We were never friends, Spike,” Darla said dryly.

“Whatever, have fun with Angel, love.  Sorry I can’t stay to see it.” Spike said.  He continued down the hallway to the bank of elevators with Hauser, leaving Darla and her latest conquest behind.

Dawn listened to Spike tell his tale.  It was easier to let him talk rather than ask questions. Hearing him speak, she couldn’t help but remember all the times she’d spent in his crypt, listening to him talk about his past.  She always had been thrilled and excited to hear about it. This time the only difference was a little bit of fear.  This time, she didn’t have the safety blanket of his chip to wrap around herself.

“So what did you have to do?” Dawn asked, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.

“Wet work, mostly,” Spike murmured against her fragrant throat.  He was anxious to get this over with; he didn’t want to live in the past.  Dawn was here and nothing he told her was going to change that.  Spike placed several light kisses in a line along her neck.

Dawn inhaled sharply, and shivered a little bit. “W-what’s wet work?”

“Do you really want to know?” Spike had moved to her ear now, and was tracing the shell of it with his tongue.

“You killed people.” It wasn’t a question. Dawn pulled away from him slightly.

“Still do,” Spike responded, “You know that.” He tightened his embrace slightly so Dawn was forced to lean back once again resting on his chest.

She relaxed against him and nodded, and then asked quietly, “Can I, not see it?”

“That’s a fine line you’re trying to walk, Kitten. See no evil and all that.”

“Look, I know they kill cows for burgers, I don’t want to see that either.  I’m American, I bask in food ignorance.”

“Fair enough,” Spike agreed.  “I’ve been a very good boy, Kitten.  Can I play now?”

Dawn wanted to say yes, he was making her crazy.  Spikes hands were roaming all over her now.  She felt his hardness pressing into her back, and just wanted to give in to him and feel good.

“Did you sleep with her?” Dawn managed to get out before she lost her nerve.

Spikes hands were underneath her shirt now, cupping her breasts through her bra. He kept his lips so close to her ear that they kept brushing against her. It tickled and made her hot at the same time. “That what you really want to know, Kitten?  If I slid her skirts up in a dark alley somewhere, ripped her panties off and slid my cock into her tight cunt?”

Dawn couldn’t believe hearing him talk about having sex with someone else would make her anything but jealous, but his unashamed admission coupled with the teasing his hands were doing made her even more aroused.  

“Yeah, I did,” Spike continued.  He’d moved his hands from her chest to her lap, unbuttoning her pants and pulling the zipper down. “More’n once.  Doesn’t mean I don’t want you, and that’s what you’re really asking.”

“What am I to you?” Spikes hands were inside her panties now, Dawn felt his fingers slide easily in the thick wetness, and shivered when he brushed against her swollen clit.

“Won’t abandon you like Buffy. Not leaving you, Kitten.  You’re mine. We run into her, you’re not getting pushed to the side.” Dawn felt Spike’s lips curl into a smile on her neck, “You may get pushed in the middle, but not away.

“I know you’re young, and you have romantic notions, but demons do things differently.  I’ll take care of you better ‘n any human ever could, but don’t expect me to be human.”  

Dawn gasped and spread her legs apart as one of his fingers slipped inside her.

“We done? Can I play now?” Spike asked again, working his finger in and out of her gently.

“Oh, yes,” Dawn agreed, nodding.

Part Three

A/N: BDSM with a minor warning goes up starting at this chapter. This is a work of fiction, I do not encourage or endorse BDSM involving minors. It is an activity only to be undertaken by consenting adults.

“Stand up and take your pants off,” Spike said, sliding his hand out of her panties.

Dawn hurried off the bed, nearly stumbling in the process.

“Take your time, Kitten,” Spike said, chuckling.

Dawn flushed, both embarrassed, and embarrassed to be embarrassed. Spike stood up and put his hands on her shoulders. She looked up at him wide-eyed, her hands stilling at the open waistband of her jeans.

“Got all night,” Spike assured her.

“I feel so clumsy,” Dawn said quietly, fingering the denim.

“It will pass with time,” he said softly. “Love that you’re so eager, Kitten.” Spike reached up and stroked her cheek softly, before stepping back.

Dawn's heart was in her throat. She tugged at her pants, and shimmied out of them, careful not to fall when she stepped out of them. She stood with the pants in her hands and asked nervously. “What should I…?”

“Fold them quickly and set them on the floor,” Spike instructed. She did as he asked; momentarily flashing to the millions of times she’d done laundry at home with Mom and Buffy.

Once her small task was complete, Dawn was once again unsure of what to do. Spike was just looking at her calmly, not moving or telling her what he wanted. She fidgeted a bit and wanted to ask for instructions again, but she got the feeling that he wanted her to figure something out.

Dawn didn’t know what to do with her hands, or if she should still be looking at him. Maybe she was suppose to kneel, he’d wanted her to do that before, and from the things she’d been reading online, it seemed to be the thing to do. She just kept feeling like everything she was doing was wrong. Spike didn’t seem disappointed, but he wasn’t doing anything either. Just stood there, relaxed and still.

Dawn studied Spike, unable to believe he was completely calm when she was so incredibly nervous. She was unable to help herself from looking down, to see if he was at least interested. Dawn thought she’d die if he wasn’t.

She rapidly scanned his groin and then nervously looked away once she’d confirmed the bulge in his pants. His arms hung loosely at his side though, and his shoulders were relaxed. It suddenly occurred to Dawn that Spike wanted her to calm down. And he had asked her to do that, in a way. Telling her to take her time.

Dawn squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She let her arms dangle at her sides, and concentrated on just breathing. She felt herself calm down immediately. Even though her heart was still rabbiting in her chest, and every calm breath now made her so conscious of the weight of her breasts, she was now definitely back to feeling mostly aroused, instead of completely nervous. She felt pulsing between her legs, and her world shrank into Inhale-twin ache of hard nipples, Exhale-throb between her legs. Inhale-ache, Exhale-throb.

After what seemed to be an eternity, Spike smiled at her. “Very good, Kitten.” Dawn smiled back shyly, happy that she’d figured it out. “Want you to unzip my pants and take me out.”

The nervousness was back full force, but at least Dawn’s hands didn’t shake as she stepped forward, and placed her hands on the button fly of his jeans. She kept her eyes down, focusing on the task her fingers thankfully could do without instruction. Tug the fabric, thumb the button through, move on to the next one. She deliberately tried not to look at the thick bit of flesh that was being exposed button by button, but when she reached the final button, the back of her hand brushed against it. Spike hissed, and Dawn pulled her hand back suddenly. She looked up at Spike’s face, afraid she’d hurt him.

The naked desire in Spike’s eyes startled her. Dawn tentatively placed her palm against his cool flesh, and was almost giddily pleased that Spike hissed again.

“You’re so hot,” Spike whispered huskily, “Feels good.”

Encouraged, Dawn looked back down and opened the button fly wider, to give herself room to work. She grasped the shaft of his cock in one hand and slid the other inside his pants, to cup his balls. They seemed so heavy and full; no wonder he wanted them out. She didn’t know if she was being too slow or careful, but she didn’t want to hurt him, so she gently worked until both his cock and balls were out of their tight space.

The fly of Spike’s jeans was open pretty wide and his pants were lower on his hips now that he was fully exposed. His cock stood proudly out from his body, flushed and leaking, framed by the worn denim and leaking slightly from the head. It still looked strange, like not part of him somehow. Dawn was afraid she would never get used to looking at it. She brushed the tips of her fingers along the shaft, marveling at the soft texture of the skin, before stepping back.

“Open the drawer on the nightstand. Bring me what you find there.” Spike instructed.

Dawn stepped over to the nightstand, and tentatively opened the tiny drawer. Inside, there was a slim rectangular metal object with a small catch on one side and what looked like a hinge through the opposite end. She reached in and picked it up, surprised by the weight. She quickly returned to her place, and handed the object to Spike.

Dawn inhaled sharply when Spike thumbed the catch with familiar ease, and opened it on its hinge. It was a long old fashioned straight razor. Difficult as it was Dawn managed to keep still as Spike grabbed the collar of her light blue shirt and sliced it open from collar to hem.

Her shirt fell open from the ragged split, and hung on her shoulders like a poorly made coat. Dawn wore one of her only matching bra and panty sets when she’d left home, hoping Spike would get to see her in it. Looked like she had gotten her wish. He was fingering the straps and the lace edging of her bra now, “So pretty, Kitten. You wear it for me?”

Spike was so close, gazing directly into her eyes. Dawn nodded, and then remembered she was supposed to answer his questions out loud. “Yes.”

Spike’s face softened almost imperceptibly and he bent his head down slightly and kissed Dawn gently, just brushing her lips with his. “My sweet girl, always thinking of me. Such a lovely package to unwrap.” Dawn flushed with pride at this.

When Spike pulled back Dawn felt the cool metal of the razor between her skin and the elastic shoulder strap, just above the cup of the bra. Spike paused a moment, seeming to silently ask her a question, Dawn nodded briefly in response. With barely a flick of his wrist the strap snapped. Spike quickly cut the other shoulder strap, and then with a third quick stroke, parted the fabric, lace, fastenings and elastic between her breasts. He closed the razor and tossed it and the shredded lingerie onto the bed.

“I can smell you, all excited when I touch you,” Spike whispered, hands coming up to cup her now exposed breasts. Dawn shivered as Spike used his hands to prop them up, and then dipped his head. She moaned as he briefly licked both nipples to make them harden and pucker even more before he released her breasts.

“Go kneel on the bed, like I taught you, facing that wall.” Spike jerked his head slightly indicating the wall directly behind him.

Spike stepped out of the way, allowing Dawn to simply walk straight ahead and do as he’d asked. She tried very hard to spread her knees as far apart as he’d wanted the last time. Dawn felt herself open wide beneath the thin soaking wet crotch of her panties and the throbbing between her legs intensified. She rested her hands on her thighs, because dangling them at her side suddenly felt awkward.

Spike pulled her hair back from over her shoulders and tied it up with something so it was no longer swinging free. He slipped one hand down her hip, skirted her belly to rest between her legs. Dawn could feel the sides of his hand just barely brush her thighs.

“Just a bit wider, Kitten,” he whispered in that commanding voice that made her stomach flip. Dawn’s heart thudded in her ears when she realized Spike was leaving his hand where it was as she adjusted herself.

Once his hand only covered her sex, and didn’t touch her anywhere else Spike said approvingly, “So very good. All nice and open for me.”

Dawn shivered at this, and then moaned as he stroked his middle finger over her swollen clit through the wet spot in her panties before removing his hand. She forced her lips together, trying to stay silent.

“You can talk and make all those pretty noises, Kitten,” Spike said, “Don’t need to be silent. Want you to kneel up now.”

Dawn felt much more graceful doing this the second time. As soon as she was in position, Spike gently grasped her wrists, and brought her arms behind her back. He transferred both wrists to one hand, and out of the corner of her eye, Dawn saw him pick up her tattered bra in the other. Spike bound her wrists tightly with her bra and then picked up the razor. Two quick cuts later she was panty-less.

Spike closed the razor once again and dropped it onto the bed. Dawn was so embarrassed and excited, she couldn’t stand it. She swore that she was so wet that fat drops were going to slide right out of her and strike the comforter.

“Look lovely like that. How do you feel?” Spike asked.

A shaky laugh slipped out before Dawn could help herself. “All crazy and mixed-up.”

“You’re doin’ fine,” Spike reassured her.

Dawn’s eyes misted over unexpectedly. “A-am I?” she asked, unsure and turning her head to the side so she could see Spike over her shoulder. It was awkward, but suddenly Dawn needed to see him.

“Better ‘n you should be,” Spike replied seriously. He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed the side of her forehead. “Gonna make you feel good, Kitten. Promise.”

Dawn nodded and looked straight ahead again, feeling more confident now. The nervous apprehension making her more aroused.

Spike gently pushed down on her shoulders until Dawn was back in her original position again, and then he helped guide her forward so her shoulders were resting on the bed. She felt incredibly dirty, with her arms tied behind her, the remains of her shirt bunched up around her shoulder blades, and her legs spread so far open with her butt in the air.  

Dawn adjusted herself, and absently pulled her wrists apart, or tried to. She realized how very tight he had bound them. Dawn tugged again, hoping to feel some give, but the elastic was stretched quite taut, not enough to cut into her skin, but close. It gave her no room to maneuver. Dawn tried to uncross her wrists, and found she couldn’t do that either. Her hands opened and closed helplessly as out of nowhere a blind panic overwhelmed her. She couldn’t get free. She was trapped and she couldn’t get free. Dawn felt like she was drowning, it was getting hard to breathe she just needed to go, move, get out, get away. Dawn had no leverage in her position, so all she could do was pull her hands wildly straining at her bonds.

Absently she realized Spike had placed a hand in the middle of her back above her bound hands, and another on her hip using gentle pressure keeping her in place. “It’s ok, Dawn. Ride it out,” Spike assured her.

His calm assertions caused her frozen vocal cords to loosen and she panted breathlessly, “No, it’s too much, I can’t. I can’t.”

“Shh, it’s fine. You’re fine. You can do this,” Spike said, louder and more firmly this time.

“No, Spike, Please.”

“Dawn!” Spike commanded loudly. His tone was what finally broke through her panic.

The tight mind numbing fear that settled tightly in her chest and had been trying to claw its way out through her throat subsided almost as quickly as it had come. She was left panting, exhausted. Spike removed the hand from her back and placed it on her other hip.

“You ok?” he asked, rubbing soothing circles into her skin.

She flushed with humiliation, “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, Spike. I don’t know what happened.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry about. Happens sometimes,” he said reassuringly. He trailed his fingers lightly from one hip, down her bottom and between her legs. “Night’s not ruined,” he said placed a soft kiss on her bottom as his cool fingers found her clit.

“Want to stop?” Spike asked as he rubbed gently.

“No!” Dawn said sharply. She didn’t want to stop, she didn’t know what had happened, but she definitely didn’t want to stop. She missed this, missed his touch and his forcefulness.

Spike rubbed the still slick sensitive bundle of nerves, lightly at first, and then with more pressure as he worked it back to its previous swollen needy state. Fresh moisture began seeping out of her again, and Spike occasionally paused in his strokes to slide a finger inside her pumping it in and out a few times before sliding out once again to stroke her clit.

“Ohh,” Dawn sighed, panic now firmly receding in her mind.

Dawn groaned when Spike took his hand away, but it was almost immediately replaced by something cold and metal.

“What?” the word squeaked out.

“Don’t worry, it’s closed.” Dawn closed her eyes, it was the folded razor. A shiver of fear and desire rushed through her. “Missed seeing you with your ruler, didn’t I?”

She moaned, pressing her hips down as Spike rubbed it back and forth over her swollen clit. “Were-were you there?” Dawn asked through clenched teeth.

“Uh-huh. Couldn’t get close enough to see you though, ward kept me out,” Spike confirmed, and then muttered, “Should kill the witch for that.”

“Off the menuuuu…oooh” Dawn groaned again. She pressed down with her hips, trying to get more and more friction, she was so close.

“Want to come, Kitten?” Spike asked.

“Yessss, please.” Dawn begged.

“Have to ask nicer than that,” Spike replied, deliberately backing off on the pressure he was applying between her legs.

“Please, please, Spike. I-I need to,” Dawn paused for a second, unsure and then said in a whispered rush. “I need to come.”

“Such a good girl, come for me,” Spike replied and suddenly metal was gone and his cool fingers were touchingpressingrubbbing until Dawn couldn’t see straight and she screamed as her orgasm crashed over her.

The bed dipped, and Dawn felt Spike line himself up against her about half a second before he slid his cock all the way inside her. His jeans brushed against the back of her thighs as he grabbed her hips.

“Christ, you’re so tight,” Spike hissed, pulling back and slamming back in again. Over and over again he thrust hard into her. Dawn pushed back against him as much as she could. Her thigh muscles were trembling and burning and Spike kept hitting a spot deep inside her that hurt and felt so good at the same time. Each sharp burst of pleasurepain prolonged her orgasm and made her feel like she was having another as that spot throbbed counter point to his strong thrusts. She keened loudly as she realized that she was having another orgasm. The spasms were escalating, instead of winding down.

Dawn vaguely heard Spike grunt, and he pressed his cock hard into her, holding her hips steady and flush against him. He withdrew and pressed in again, rocking his hips against her.

She was still shuddering herself, when he leaned forward and rested his head lightly on her back.

“That was brilliant,” Spike whispered.

“Uh-huh,” Dawn replied.

A/N: Bondage is a very personal experience and sometimes can be frightening. Someone can be perfectly comfortable being tied up, and then panic at the drop of a hat. I want to make it clear that Spike was about two seconds away from releasing Dawn. He didn’t want to cut her restraints while she was panicking for fear of hurting her, and he was trying to get her to calm down on her own. He continued afterwards only because it was ok with her.

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