Story: "Safe as Houses" - BtVS - Spike/Dawn
Title: Safe as Houses
Author: Guardian Erin
Rating: R
Warnings: Suicide attempt
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Spike/Dawn
Word count: 1,840
Disclaimer: I do not own.
Summary: Things are never so bad if even one person cares about you. Written for the March Simile Challenge at tamingthemuse
Dawn waited until the house was quiet. Several minutes after Willow and Tara were supposed to be at the Magic Box, she drew herself a bath and went to stand in front of the mirror in her room.
Dawn carefully considered her reflection, scrutinizing every flaw that she saw. Her face was pale, eyes sleepless. She ran a hand through her brown hair, shook her head and then tried to put on a very pleasing smile. The sight of her hollow veneer made Dawn lose the façade immediately. She didn't know how she managed to convince anyone that she was happy. Sometimes she was, but right now all she could feel was something gnawing at her.
The tub was almost full when Dawn returned to the bathroom. She shut the door, felt the water and then began to disrobe. Socks, shirt, pants were shed onto the floor. She toed them away and went to the bathroom cabinet. Her reflection caught her for a second, then Dawn opened the cabinet and carefully rummaged for her razor. She shut the cabinet without glancing at the mirror again and turned to the tub.
Dawn admired the clear water for a second, and then turned off the faucet. She slipped into the tub, sinking down into the comforting warmth of the water. For a second, everything seemed tranquil. There was nothing but the quiet slosh of water when she moved, and a drip-drip when she lifted her hands to brush back her hair.
She slid down into the bath, letting the water come up around her head until just her face remained above the surface. Dawn took a breath, submerged, and let everything slip away. Everything was simpler right now. She didn't have to worry about what it meant to have a dead mother and a dead sister. She didn't have to think about the synthetic replacement that had taken Buffy's place, or how the Scoobies were never quite there anymore. She didn't have to worry about the ever-present threat of vampires and demons and social workers. She wouldn't have to worry about anything.
Dawn reemerged from the water, feeling cleansed. She settled against the back of the tub and picked up the razor, slashing open her wrist.
She had not considered how badly it would hurt. The pain only reflected how much it hurt on the inside when she suddenly had the image of her mother's horrified face the first time she'd slashed her wrist open. She wasn't even real, and could understand how it could possibly hurt that much. Her hand trembled too much on the next cut, and the other wrist did not get such a clean, deep slice. She tried again, fingers trembling, blood dripping off of her wrist into the water, eyes clouding with tears.
Dawn let the blade drop onto the bathroom floor, giving up on the other arm. She could see her mother's face, creased with disappointment. Buffy whispering for her to be brave right before she leapt to her death.
The sob came against her will and Dawn lifted her hands to cover her face. She wished she could drown, or that Buffy hadn't stopped her from throwing herself off of the tower. If she'd been the one to go, would she see her mother? Would Buffy be the one in this tub? No, Dawn realized, lowering her hands. Her chest was covered with blood that mixed with the water, slowly drifting away. Buffy would not give up this easily; she would slay more and more recklessly until she was killed.
Dawn lifted her arm and realized that it was now coated in blood, and it continued to slowly seep out. She let her arm dangle out of the tub and wondered whether or not she would die.
What would happen when they discovered her? And how long would it take until they found her? The floor would be pooled with blood, her body cold and lifeless. They could put her near her mother's grave, the last Summers to join the rest. It wouldn't be so sad at her funeral, then. Willow would cry, but it would actually be like closure. No poor little Dawnie to look after because her family was all dead. Death ran in the family, she guessed. Then again, she wasn't really part of the family. Would she revert into whatever she originally was? Would she even have a body left behind? Would she still punch a hole into some dimension or another?
She could hear Glory's worshipful tones as the hellgod had described the Key. Glowing mystical energy. It had heard just as much when the Doc had started to bleed her. And she could remember Spike calling out to her, and promising that he would save her.
He was calling to her… and suddenly she was being pulled out of the cold water, even colder air hitting her skin. Hands roughly pulled her out of the tub and Dawn shuddered, somehow too weak to make herself move. Her hip hit the rim of the tub, as did the backs of her heels when she was pulled into someone's arms.
"Dawn? Dawn? Christ," Spike pulled her closer, trying to focus on the sound of her weakened heartbeat.
"Let go of me." Dawn's plea came out very faintly, and did not hold any weight.
"Never," Spike promised, shaking his head. He slid them a few feet to the left and grabbed a towel from the rack, wrapping her in the soft fabric. Dawn still shook in his arms, and he lifted her up against him, rubbing his hands over and over her skin to warm her with friction. When she could move her limbs again, Dawn put her arms around Spike, ignoring the pain that it put on her wrists. He was solid and warm to her, and she clung to him as a drowning man would cling to a life preserver.
Spike brushed her hair aside and spotted the shiny metal blade, stuck in the blood that had spilled onto the floor. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, finding it hard to deal with what he'd found, and the thought of what might have been if he hadn't stopped by.
"If you'd done anything…" Spike trailed off uncertainly, forcing himself to look up at the ceiling. "I'd have killed you."
Dawn made a very small noise, like a laugh, but it was full of pain. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice tiny against him.
Spike knew he should find something to cover her wrists, but was too overcome with relief to even make himself let go of her. He sat back a little and then began to press kisses against her face without stopping to think about it. Each kiss was like a small prayer of thanks to whoever was watching over them from above. When he was finished, he rested his head against hers for a long time.
"Spike?" Dawn asked after such a long silence. "Are you crying?"
"No," he denied, sitting back. He kept his eyes down and took her hands so she would not be able to see the tears on his cheeks. Spike carefully turned her wrists over, examining the damage and relieved to notice that the wounds were not bleeding very much, if at all.
"How did you find me?" Dawn questioned.
"I could smell the blood," Spike told her slowly, distracted by the overwhelming smell of it all.
Dawn gave him a bemused expression. "From your crypt?"
"I… was just stopping by," Spike said. "I wanted to check in on you. And I could smell the blood. God," he pulled away from her abruptly, standing up and putting a hand to his head.
"What's wrong?" Dawn asked, steadying herself against the floor.
"Nothing," Spike said. He just as abruptly reached down and helped her to her feet. He held onto the towel around her when it threatened to slip, helping Dawn secure it around her and trying not to think about it. "This is… a bad combination, bit," he admitted, turning desperately to the cabinet to find the first aid kit.
Dawn put her hand against his while he rummaged, feeling unsteady on her feet. Spike found the bandages, but couldn't see the tape.
"Am I going to die?"
He turned his head to look at her, and pure his arm around her shoulders to keep her steady. "No, pet."
Dawn stared at the blood on the floor. "There's so much. Is that too much?"
"You aren't bleeding anymore," Spike swallowed, trying to focus on the kit again. "You'll get it all back soon enough. You were more likely to drown than bleed to death."
"If I'd been… worse, would you have turned me instead?" Dawn asked.
Spike stopped and turned her towards him, stroking her damp hair. "In an instant."
"Could you do it right now?"
"No."
Dawn lowered her eyes, filled with regret. "I should have tried harder."
"Don't say that," Spike caught her chin, forcing her to look at him.
Dawn lifted a hand to his face, her blood-coated wrist before him as she touched his cheek.
"Pet," Spike warned, his voice strained.
"It's okay," Dawn told him. "I don't mind."
She felt his mouth against her skin, then. His eyes fell closed, tongue laving a path across her wrist. Her blood was sickly sweet, incredibly potent compared to the pig's blood he had been living on. It took all of his control to lick around the wound and not to reopen the cut. Spike followed the path of blood down her arm, holding onto the tender skin for fear that she would pull away. Dawn remained steady, however, and when there was finally nothing left to be had, he lifted his head from her, feeling ashamed.
Dawn raised her hands to his head again, stroking her fingers over his hair. "Thank you."
The vampire ignored her, taking hold of her hand and pulling her towards the first aid kit. He wound the bandage around her arm, a little too tightly, and taped the end so it would not unravel. Then he did the same to the other arm, although it was significantly less bloodied.
"There," Spike said when the second one was taped. He tried to be curt. "All better."
Dawn looked at the bandages, wondering if anyone else would have been quite as understanding. She didn't realize she had begun to cry before Spike swiped the tear away with his thumb. She lifted her chin, noticing the curious expression on Spike's face, as if he were trying to figure her out.
"Are you going to stay?"
"I don't think I ought to leave, pet," Spike said.
"No, I mean… will you stay?" Dawn asked.
He frowned, head tilting slightly at the question. "I'm always here," he told her.
"Because you promised?"
"Because I care about you, love," Spike answered, pulling her towards him and dropping a kiss on her forehead. "I won't let anything happen to you."
Author: Guardian Erin
Rating: R
Warnings: Suicide attempt
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Spike/Dawn
Word count: 1,840
Disclaimer: I do not own.
Summary: Things are never so bad if even one person cares about you. Written for the March Simile Challenge at tamingthemuse
Dawn waited until the house was quiet. Several minutes after Willow and Tara were supposed to be at the Magic Box, she drew herself a bath and went to stand in front of the mirror in her room.
Dawn carefully considered her reflection, scrutinizing every flaw that she saw. Her face was pale, eyes sleepless. She ran a hand through her brown hair, shook her head and then tried to put on a very pleasing smile. The sight of her hollow veneer made Dawn lose the façade immediately. She didn't know how she managed to convince anyone that she was happy. Sometimes she was, but right now all she could feel was something gnawing at her.
The tub was almost full when Dawn returned to the bathroom. She shut the door, felt the water and then began to disrobe. Socks, shirt, pants were shed onto the floor. She toed them away and went to the bathroom cabinet. Her reflection caught her for a second, then Dawn opened the cabinet and carefully rummaged for her razor. She shut the cabinet without glancing at the mirror again and turned to the tub.
Dawn admired the clear water for a second, and then turned off the faucet. She slipped into the tub, sinking down into the comforting warmth of the water. For a second, everything seemed tranquil. There was nothing but the quiet slosh of water when she moved, and a drip-drip when she lifted her hands to brush back her hair.
She slid down into the bath, letting the water come up around her head until just her face remained above the surface. Dawn took a breath, submerged, and let everything slip away. Everything was simpler right now. She didn't have to worry about what it meant to have a dead mother and a dead sister. She didn't have to think about the synthetic replacement that had taken Buffy's place, or how the Scoobies were never quite there anymore. She didn't have to worry about the ever-present threat of vampires and demons and social workers. She wouldn't have to worry about anything.
Dawn reemerged from the water, feeling cleansed. She settled against the back of the tub and picked up the razor, slashing open her wrist.
She had not considered how badly it would hurt. The pain only reflected how much it hurt on the inside when she suddenly had the image of her mother's horrified face the first time she'd slashed her wrist open. She wasn't even real, and could understand how it could possibly hurt that much. Her hand trembled too much on the next cut, and the other wrist did not get such a clean, deep slice. She tried again, fingers trembling, blood dripping off of her wrist into the water, eyes clouding with tears.
Dawn let the blade drop onto the bathroom floor, giving up on the other arm. She could see her mother's face, creased with disappointment. Buffy whispering for her to be brave right before she leapt to her death.
The sob came against her will and Dawn lifted her hands to cover her face. She wished she could drown, or that Buffy hadn't stopped her from throwing herself off of the tower. If she'd been the one to go, would she see her mother? Would Buffy be the one in this tub? No, Dawn realized, lowering her hands. Her chest was covered with blood that mixed with the water, slowly drifting away. Buffy would not give up this easily; she would slay more and more recklessly until she was killed.
Dawn lifted her arm and realized that it was now coated in blood, and it continued to slowly seep out. She let her arm dangle out of the tub and wondered whether or not she would die.
What would happen when they discovered her? And how long would it take until they found her? The floor would be pooled with blood, her body cold and lifeless. They could put her near her mother's grave, the last Summers to join the rest. It wouldn't be so sad at her funeral, then. Willow would cry, but it would actually be like closure. No poor little Dawnie to look after because her family was all dead. Death ran in the family, she guessed. Then again, she wasn't really part of the family. Would she revert into whatever she originally was? Would she even have a body left behind? Would she still punch a hole into some dimension or another?
She could hear Glory's worshipful tones as the hellgod had described the Key. Glowing mystical energy. It had heard just as much when the Doc had started to bleed her. And she could remember Spike calling out to her, and promising that he would save her.
He was calling to her… and suddenly she was being pulled out of the cold water, even colder air hitting her skin. Hands roughly pulled her out of the tub and Dawn shuddered, somehow too weak to make herself move. Her hip hit the rim of the tub, as did the backs of her heels when she was pulled into someone's arms.
"Dawn? Dawn? Christ," Spike pulled her closer, trying to focus on the sound of her weakened heartbeat.
"Let go of me." Dawn's plea came out very faintly, and did not hold any weight.
"Never," Spike promised, shaking his head. He slid them a few feet to the left and grabbed a towel from the rack, wrapping her in the soft fabric. Dawn still shook in his arms, and he lifted her up against him, rubbing his hands over and over her skin to warm her with friction. When she could move her limbs again, Dawn put her arms around Spike, ignoring the pain that it put on her wrists. He was solid and warm to her, and she clung to him as a drowning man would cling to a life preserver.
Spike brushed her hair aside and spotted the shiny metal blade, stuck in the blood that had spilled onto the floor. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, finding it hard to deal with what he'd found, and the thought of what might have been if he hadn't stopped by.
"If you'd done anything…" Spike trailed off uncertainly, forcing himself to look up at the ceiling. "I'd have killed you."
Dawn made a very small noise, like a laugh, but it was full of pain. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice tiny against him.
Spike knew he should find something to cover her wrists, but was too overcome with relief to even make himself let go of her. He sat back a little and then began to press kisses against her face without stopping to think about it. Each kiss was like a small prayer of thanks to whoever was watching over them from above. When he was finished, he rested his head against hers for a long time.
"Spike?" Dawn asked after such a long silence. "Are you crying?"
"No," he denied, sitting back. He kept his eyes down and took her hands so she would not be able to see the tears on his cheeks. Spike carefully turned her wrists over, examining the damage and relieved to notice that the wounds were not bleeding very much, if at all.
"How did you find me?" Dawn questioned.
"I could smell the blood," Spike told her slowly, distracted by the overwhelming smell of it all.
Dawn gave him a bemused expression. "From your crypt?"
"I… was just stopping by," Spike said. "I wanted to check in on you. And I could smell the blood. God," he pulled away from her abruptly, standing up and putting a hand to his head.
"What's wrong?" Dawn asked, steadying herself against the floor.
"Nothing," Spike said. He just as abruptly reached down and helped her to her feet. He held onto the towel around her when it threatened to slip, helping Dawn secure it around her and trying not to think about it. "This is… a bad combination, bit," he admitted, turning desperately to the cabinet to find the first aid kit.
Dawn put her hand against his while he rummaged, feeling unsteady on her feet. Spike found the bandages, but couldn't see the tape.
"Am I going to die?"
He turned his head to look at her, and pure his arm around her shoulders to keep her steady. "No, pet."
Dawn stared at the blood on the floor. "There's so much. Is that too much?"
"You aren't bleeding anymore," Spike swallowed, trying to focus on the kit again. "You'll get it all back soon enough. You were more likely to drown than bleed to death."
"If I'd been… worse, would you have turned me instead?" Dawn asked.
Spike stopped and turned her towards him, stroking her damp hair. "In an instant."
"Could you do it right now?"
"No."
Dawn lowered her eyes, filled with regret. "I should have tried harder."
"Don't say that," Spike caught her chin, forcing her to look at him.
Dawn lifted a hand to his face, her blood-coated wrist before him as she touched his cheek.
"Pet," Spike warned, his voice strained.
"It's okay," Dawn told him. "I don't mind."
She felt his mouth against her skin, then. His eyes fell closed, tongue laving a path across her wrist. Her blood was sickly sweet, incredibly potent compared to the pig's blood he had been living on. It took all of his control to lick around the wound and not to reopen the cut. Spike followed the path of blood down her arm, holding onto the tender skin for fear that she would pull away. Dawn remained steady, however, and when there was finally nothing left to be had, he lifted his head from her, feeling ashamed.
Dawn raised her hands to his head again, stroking her fingers over his hair. "Thank you."
The vampire ignored her, taking hold of her hand and pulling her towards the first aid kit. He wound the bandage around her arm, a little too tightly, and taped the end so it would not unravel. Then he did the same to the other arm, although it was significantly less bloodied.
"There," Spike said when the second one was taped. He tried to be curt. "All better."
Dawn looked at the bandages, wondering if anyone else would have been quite as understanding. She didn't realize she had begun to cry before Spike swiped the tear away with his thumb. She lifted her chin, noticing the curious expression on Spike's face, as if he were trying to figure her out.
"Are you going to stay?"
"I don't think I ought to leave, pet," Spike said.
"No, I mean… will you stay?" Dawn asked.
He frowned, head tilting slightly at the question. "I'm always here," he told her.
"Because you promised?"
"Because I care about you, love," Spike answered, pulling her towards him and dropping a kiss on her forehead. "I won't let anything happen to you."