Three Minutes


pairing: Spike/Dawn
genre: romantic angst
rating: Mature Adults
time frame: s6 of BtVS
summary: Spike waits for Buffy but it isn't her that comes home.


In three minutes, she'll be eighteen years old. That magic number that she'd said, once upon a time, would be the start of a new life for them. When they wouldn't have to hide, when it wouldn't matter what anyone said, she'd be a legal adult and everyone could take their opinions and go fuck themselves with them.

He grinned, remembering. He shouldn't be allowed to remember, he wasn't worthy enough for one thing. But then the pain of losing her overcame him and, holding back tears, he thought maybe he did deserve this.

It started the night Buffy came to his crypt and told him it was over. But it wasn't, how could it be, it had barely gotten started. He'd gone to her house and stood underneath his tree and waited for her to return, determined to talk some sense into her.

But it wasn't Buffy who came home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Flashback to s6 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The car came zooming up the street a little too fast and a little too loud. The driver, a tall boy with bland hair and a bland face got out and made his way around to the passenger side. It looked like he was going to open the door for the other occupant, but before he got there, it opened by itself and Dawn got out, laughing at something Spike hadn't caught.

She stood and then bent back in to grab her purse and a book and Spike couldn't help wanting to tear the git's throat out for the way he was staring at Niblet's ass.

Then again, in the short denim skirt she wore, it was more than stare-worthy; it was damn near bitable. The git was going to die.

"Come on in, Rafe," Dawn called as she headed for the house, "I'll get that book you need for civics class."

Spike, knowing there was no one else home, stepped forward. "I don't think that's a good idea, Bit."

"Spike!" Dawn cried, happily surprised by his presence. She hadn't seen much of him lately, she suspected Buffy was pulling that 'You're an evil vampire' crap that she did from time to time, making Spike think it was better to stay away. She ran up and hugged him, very happy to see him after so long and Spike was pleased to note that the git looked intimidated.

He held Dawn in his embrace for a few seconds longer than usual, partly to further show the git who was more important to Dawn. And partly because having a warm, willing girl in his arms, who was delighted rather than repulsed to see him, was a welcome thing.

Finally he let her go and she pulled away a second later. "It's okay, it's just Rafe," she whispered to him before saying louder, "Rafe, this is Spike, he's a friend of the family." She turned and headed back toward the front porch. Rafe didn't move, eyes still warily on Spike. As Spike followed Dawn in, he said to the nervous boy, "Think of me as her older brother and a vicious guard dog, rolled into one." After watching the boy's skin turn paler than his own, he walked into the house behind Dawn.

Rafe made it as far as the porch but didn't go inside. Dawn came down the stairs, brandishing the book, and handed it to Rafe. "Hodges loves this book. She'll give you extra credit for referencing it, I promise." She smiled at him and he nodded, but said nothing. Then he turned and ran back to his car.

Dawn slammed the door shut and faced Spike. "Did you have to go all Big Bad on him? He's just a friend, Spike, that's all."

"Not from his end."

"You're crazy." She turned and headed for the living room, but Spike grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"I saw him drooling over yer arse. And what do you expect, wearing clothes like that? Gonna have every boy in a ten mile radius coming in his denims wearing clothes like that!"

She smiled inwardly, thinking that her clothes must be having the same effect on Spike if he was thinking that about other guys. But outwardly, she feigned ignorance.

She looked down at her clothes, a tight red halter and a short blue denim skirt with ballet flats. "What this? This is just normally everyday clothes, Spike."

"Oh yeah?" His hands came up and the palms lightly skimmed over her breasts, sending ripples of pleasure through her. He leaned forward and blew a soft stream of chill air across her breast and she was embarrassed to see her nipple pucker up and get hard, clearly visible through her shirt. But god, that felt SO good!

Her breathing got short and she noticed that Spike didn't take his eyes from her chest.

She licked her dry lips and said, "Spike?"

He didn't answer her, just reached up and untied the top of her halter and then let the fabric fall, baring her to his eyes.

And his mouth. He took her in his mouth, lips and tongue making her feel things her own hands never had. One hand fondled her other breast and her knees felt weak.

When she thought she might fall, his arm came around her and held her up. She was aching, down by her thighs and she wanted to ask for relief but she didn't know how.

Spike seemed to know, though, just like he always knew about everything. The hand on her breast moved to between her legs and slid inside her panties. He rubbed different places in different ways, each one new and amazing. Between the touching and his mouth sucking on her breast, it didn't take long before she screamed out his name and he held her tighter around the waist, letting her ride out her first real orgasm.

She was panting and seeing lights behind her eyes and trying really hard not to dissolve into a puddle of gelatin. Spike was holding her still, holding her tight and close and kissing her hair as he waited for her to gain control again.

That's when the kitchen door slammed and Buffy's voice called out for Dawn.

It wasn't three seconds later that he was out the front door and Dawn was left wondering what had happened. But then, she was only fifteen and a half, and Buffy would not take a relationship between her and Spike well. She hadn't even liked it when they were friends. Spike was just being smart, that's all. Spike was just looking out for her.

She prayed that was true.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ end of flashback ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And here he was, drinking himself stupid in a bar, just like he'd done after that first night. Then, he'd been punishing himself for what he'd done that night; but now, he was punishing himself for what he'd done later - for letting her go. When they'd been so right - and how had he not seen that? He'd had it mixed up.

He wasn't attracted to Dawn because she was part of the Slayer; he'd been attracted to the Slayer because she was part of Dawn.

Part II

Two minutes to midnight. Two minutes more that he'd let himself be tortured by the memory, although he deserved so much worse.

He'd thrown her away, after all. Let her believe that-

He really is a monster.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Flashback to s6 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He knew he had to apologise, but facing her wasn't something he thought he could do. Couldn't bear to see the look of hatred in her eyes, the icy cold glare of someone who'd, in her innocence, let someone so filthy touch her.

So three nights later he'd gathered up the courage to climb up the trellis to her bedroom and leave her a nosegay of white daisies and lavender tea roses. A short note, saying he was sorry, he hadn't meant to take it so far, he understood that she was humiliated and repulsed and he took full blame for what happened, and he'd never do it again. He'd stay away as long as she wanted him to.

Then he went home and started drinking the store of bourbon and brandy he'd pinched from Giles before he left.

He was understandably confused (and more than a little sloshed) four bottles and five hours later when all the Dawns came storming into the crypt. Sometimes there were two but then other times there seemed to be at least four. They were all yelling at him.

Something about not accepting his apology. Well, he'd expected that really. But not from so many of her.

She was talking - and talking - and talking - and somehow they ended up downstairs. Or, what was left of downstairs.

He didn't remember how they became naked. He did come to understand that she didn't hate him. Wasn't repulsed by him.

He figured it out about the time her hot little cunt slid down his cock and ate it alive.

In his inebriated state, she didn't look at all like a little girl, riding him as she was with her head thrown back and her hair like dark, warm brown sugar flowing around her shoulders. She looked like a woman, a perfect woman - one who wanted him and was saying sweet things to him and not beating him in the head as she fucked him. The only thing that might be broken after this was his dick, but he was sure it would recover.

He hoped.

Because he wanted to do this again sober.

He came with her, holding onto her hips with a grip he was sure would bruise her, but he couldn't let go. He had to know this was real and not some alcohol induced dream.

But it wasn't.

She was still there when he woke up and he was so amazed he couldn't stop staring at her.

That woke her up and they spent most of an hour just holding and kissing each other, going back over what she'd said last night.

She wanted him. In the boyfriend kind of way. She'd always felt a connection with him, she said, and she proved it by letting him do all kinds of delicious things to her body. Things that involved the handcuffs Buffy'd refused to even discuss. And the blindfold he'd never even shown her.

And blood.

It had started out innocently enough. They'd been lying there together on a stack of blankets he'd managed to appropriate since his crypt had been bombed out only four days before by Captain Cardboard. Dawn asked what happened and he'd told her - mostly. He'd been safeguarding some eggs for a guy who knew a guy who knew a demon. Seems the government was after the mother, something about her emitting a chemical that could be used as a nerve toxin. She was on the run from them.

They had a while more to incubate she'd said, about eighteen more days and she was sure she'd have lost the government tail by then. But she hadn't counted on Buffy. Buffy found her and killed her, even though the feds wanted her alive - so she could produce more nerve toxin.

Babies were uncontrollable if you weren't another Suvolte, no way those humans could have handled them until they were adult, so the eggs were no use to them. Cardboard came in and, with Buffy's help, blew the poor tykes to oblivion.

Dawn, having heard a much different, and much less believable, version of this story, started looking around, seeing if there was anything they could salvage, and she'd found the handcuffs.

One thing led to another… but her trust was intoxicating. Anything he wanted and she had a few surprises up her sleeve too. The ways she could bend that sweet, young body - even the Slayer didn't have that flexibility.

And he learned something new. Sex could be FUN. Intense, satisfying, nerve-whacking, painful - sex had always been those things in his experience, but it had never been just fun before. They laughed. Soft, sweet laughter that made odd things contract in his chest.

Seemed an old dog could learn new tricks.

It had seemed natural, in the throws of an intense orgasm, when Dawn had thrown her head back, to bite her. He forgot about the chip, forgot about the pain, he just did what came naturally. Not a bite to kill or even to feed, a bite to connect.

And it hadn't hurt. Either of them. Dawn wrapped arms and legs tighter around him and screamed out her pleasure as he came more intensely for the taste of hot blood rushing down his throat again.

In the days, weeks and months that followed they'd done everything he ever imagined doing with a lover.

He taught her about the pleasure of pain and she taught him about the sheer ecstasy of kissing. Some nights they spent almost all night just kissing.



Spike lifted a finger to his lips, wishing for the softness of her there, but all he felt was the rough texture of his own fingertips and the liquid of the bourbon. Cold comfort - hell, no comfort at all.

Part III

One minute to midnight. One more minute he had to wish he'd never accepted that necklace, one more minute to wish he'd had the guts to call Dawn when he recorporealised. One more minute to let his mind accept what his heart knew. That she was gone and she was never coming back.

He'd like to say he regretted Buffy, that he wished he had agreed with Dawn and the others when they insisted Buffy was wrong about the winery, but he couldn't. Buffy was right, he knew she was. Felt it in his gut. And then he'd gone after Buffy. Dawn saw that as betrayal.

And later - when they'd accepted Buffy back into the fold, Dawn was still angry. He knew he'd been expected to turn her away that last night, but where else could she go - no one else understood. He'd been there - on the outside looking in - and Buffy didn't deserve that, no one did, especially one who'd save the world so many times.

He'd tried to lure Dawn to the basement that night, tried again to apologise for leaving her to go find Buffy, but Dawn would have none of it. She's cut him cold and left him standing there.

He'd chosen one sister over the other and now he had neither. Buffy didn't love him, no matter what she'd said that last minute together.

Last minute - last second.

When the clock over the bar turned midnight, he lifted his glass in a silent salute to the only woman in the world who'd ever truly loved him and then downed the shot.

Standing, he said to no one, "Happy Birthday, Luv."

He left, alone in the night - alone yet again.

The End