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May. 19th, 2007 11:33 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
confusedkayt.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
gen_storytellerTitle: Bricolage
Rating: PG - mention of rape
Characters: Spike, Dawn
Setting: During "End of Days" and "Chosen," between when Spike sees Buffy with Angel and when she finds him in the basement.
Summary: Building a little something out of whatever's handy
Not even one goddam demon on the way home that could stand a good decapitating. Damn annoying, how quiet you had to be sneaking back into the house. Worse to remember when you’d smash someone’s face in when you felt like this, just to relieve the tension a bit, work the old kinks out. Worse to feel that coiled up in your gut when all you’re capable is pansy-creeping through a houseful of girls after the girl had just ripped your heart out with a jagged teaspoon.
He was so focused on shutting the door as slowly as possible so it wouldn’t clank that the whisper scared him half out of his skin.
“I was awake, you know. For all of that.”
Spike narrowed his eyes. “S’this, then?”
An annoyed teenage snort. “I said I was awake.”
He squinted at the mounds in the living room. Tall thing, his Bit, little more to her than these little scraps of nothing from all over the world. It was no use. Even vamp eyes weren’t that good in the dark. Half the time he swore he was getting nearsighted again, just another lovely piece of the poncey package.
Could tell she was waiting for him to say something. Best leave that to her, after… Well, a good death threat will let a fellow know what terms a friendship was on. His jaw tightened. A good rape attempt on the sister… Yeah, that’ll do it, too.
Another annoyed snort. “I mean, I heard what you said, earlier.”
“Said a lot of things today, Ni… Dawn.”
“I heard that, too, you know. I’m not…”
Hurt to hear her say it. “Know you’re not, Dawn. Jus’ takes me a minute sometimes.”
“I can’t believe… I mean, I don’t know how you do it, stand there and listen to her say those things when you know…”
Silence again, this time a heavy silence. Heavy enough to press the air right out of him, and he didn’t even need the stuff. Maybe too heavy for a thing like Dawn. If she felt it at all, around the seething. “Yeah, I know.”
“I just… Is this all…” A frustrated sigh, and a few restless rustlings. “The porch, Spike. You’re really not worth waking anyone up for.”
He blew a long slow breath through his nose, opening the door he’d been so anxious to shut a minute ago. Guess he wasn’t, at that. Why in the Hell this had to happen now, of all times, when he was just itching to do a little of the old smash, bash…
His Bit, hands on her hips, glaring like only she could glare, imperious even in her silly little girl pajamas with sheep on them. “If this is what you came back for, then…”
“Don’t know why I came back, Dawn. Not quite right in the head.”
Her eyes narrowed, suspiciously moist. “You didn’t wanna come back?”
“Not so sure I had the right to.”
“Got that right.” Voice like ice, that girl had. Diamonds, even. He never would have thought someone could beat Buffy in a freezing contest. It must run in the family.
He could see her jaw working, and something in the lock-set of her shoulders made him quiet down. Then tears were leaking out of her eyes but her jaw was still set like concrete. She went all blotchy and softened all at once, crumpling on the porch in a heap and squealing at a pitch no human voice should reach. “You didn’t… You just… You! You!”
His hand twitched, half reaching for her but he couldn’t do that now, couldn’t comfort her. When she used to get like this he could gather her up and tell her a story, some nasty that she shouldn’ta heard at her age. It hurt, physically hurt, to just stand there are watch her work herself down.
She sat up suddenly, ramrod straight. Her eyes were still ice – half melted, but still cold enough to burn. “I thought I meant something. To you.”
“Sweet…”
That near growl of hers. “Don’t.”
He ran a hand through half-gelled hair. “’Course you meant – mean – something.”
Her jaw was locked tight. Still the growl, then, the one she only got when she was really on a tear. “Then why didn’t you say goodbye.”
Just like that, then. A statement, not even a question. Just sitting there between them like a physical force.
“Well?” she growled, eyes snapping.
Spike twisted the hem of his t-shirt into his fist. “I couldn’t, not after…”
“After you tried to rape my sister?”
And there it was. “Yeah,” he muttered, “after I tried to rape your sister.”
“Are you sorry?” The growl was a little squeaky now. Frightening, that. This cold rage and right back into hysteria again any second.
“Can’t ever be sorry enough.”
He could hear something in her jaw pop, but she held it there. Must be driving her teeth right through her jaw. “The soul?”
The fucking soul again – and now it was twinging because sometimes he wished it away, wished he got a hundred years to adjust to it and then could sweep in like sodding Angel, doesn’t matter what he’d done, oh no. Defective, this damn soul, letting him think like this and still putting him through… he had that coming, though, no denying that. “Not good enough.”
She dipped her head at that. Then she turned, skittered for the door. She turned the knob and opened it, and held it that way. “Well,” she asked, still half growling, “what are you waiting for? My fingers are falling asleep.”
Even twitchy with the anger with Angel – hell, with her – he almost cracked a smile at that.
Rating: PG - mention of rape
Characters: Spike, Dawn
Setting: During "End of Days" and "Chosen," between when Spike sees Buffy with Angel and when she finds him in the basement.
Summary: Building a little something out of whatever's handy
Not even one goddam demon on the way home that could stand a good decapitating. Damn annoying, how quiet you had to be sneaking back into the house. Worse to remember when you’d smash someone’s face in when you felt like this, just to relieve the tension a bit, work the old kinks out. Worse to feel that coiled up in your gut when all you’re capable is pansy-creeping through a houseful of girls after the girl had just ripped your heart out with a jagged teaspoon.
He was so focused on shutting the door as slowly as possible so it wouldn’t clank that the whisper scared him half out of his skin.
“I was awake, you know. For all of that.”
Spike narrowed his eyes. “S’this, then?”
An annoyed teenage snort. “I said I was awake.”
He squinted at the mounds in the living room. Tall thing, his Bit, little more to her than these little scraps of nothing from all over the world. It was no use. Even vamp eyes weren’t that good in the dark. Half the time he swore he was getting nearsighted again, just another lovely piece of the poncey package.
Could tell she was waiting for him to say something. Best leave that to her, after… Well, a good death threat will let a fellow know what terms a friendship was on. His jaw tightened. A good rape attempt on the sister… Yeah, that’ll do it, too.
Another annoyed snort. “I mean, I heard what you said, earlier.”
“Said a lot of things today, Ni… Dawn.”
“I heard that, too, you know. I’m not…”
Hurt to hear her say it. “Know you’re not, Dawn. Jus’ takes me a minute sometimes.”
“I can’t believe… I mean, I don’t know how you do it, stand there and listen to her say those things when you know…”
Silence again, this time a heavy silence. Heavy enough to press the air right out of him, and he didn’t even need the stuff. Maybe too heavy for a thing like Dawn. If she felt it at all, around the seething. “Yeah, I know.”
“I just… Is this all…” A frustrated sigh, and a few restless rustlings. “The porch, Spike. You’re really not worth waking anyone up for.”
He blew a long slow breath through his nose, opening the door he’d been so anxious to shut a minute ago. Guess he wasn’t, at that. Why in the Hell this had to happen now, of all times, when he was just itching to do a little of the old smash, bash…
His Bit, hands on her hips, glaring like only she could glare, imperious even in her silly little girl pajamas with sheep on them. “If this is what you came back for, then…”
“Don’t know why I came back, Dawn. Not quite right in the head.”
Her eyes narrowed, suspiciously moist. “You didn’t wanna come back?”
“Not so sure I had the right to.”
“Got that right.” Voice like ice, that girl had. Diamonds, even. He never would have thought someone could beat Buffy in a freezing contest. It must run in the family.
He could see her jaw working, and something in the lock-set of her shoulders made him quiet down. Then tears were leaking out of her eyes but her jaw was still set like concrete. She went all blotchy and softened all at once, crumpling on the porch in a heap and squealing at a pitch no human voice should reach. “You didn’t… You just… You! You!”
His hand twitched, half reaching for her but he couldn’t do that now, couldn’t comfort her. When she used to get like this he could gather her up and tell her a story, some nasty that she shouldn’ta heard at her age. It hurt, physically hurt, to just stand there are watch her work herself down.
She sat up suddenly, ramrod straight. Her eyes were still ice – half melted, but still cold enough to burn. “I thought I meant something. To you.”
“Sweet…”
That near growl of hers. “Don’t.”
He ran a hand through half-gelled hair. “’Course you meant – mean – something.”
Her jaw was locked tight. Still the growl, then, the one she only got when she was really on a tear. “Then why didn’t you say goodbye.”
Just like that, then. A statement, not even a question. Just sitting there between them like a physical force.
“Well?” she growled, eyes snapping.
Spike twisted the hem of his t-shirt into his fist. “I couldn’t, not after…”
“After you tried to rape my sister?”
And there it was. “Yeah,” he muttered, “after I tried to rape your sister.”
“Are you sorry?” The growl was a little squeaky now. Frightening, that. This cold rage and right back into hysteria again any second.
“Can’t ever be sorry enough.”
He could hear something in her jaw pop, but she held it there. Must be driving her teeth right through her jaw. “The soul?”
The fucking soul again – and now it was twinging because sometimes he wished it away, wished he got a hundred years to adjust to it and then could sweep in like sodding Angel, doesn’t matter what he’d done, oh no. Defective, this damn soul, letting him think like this and still putting him through… he had that coming, though, no denying that. “Not good enough.”
She dipped her head at that. Then she turned, skittered for the door. She turned the knob and opened it, and held it that way. “Well,” she asked, still half growling, “what are you waiting for? My fingers are falling asleep.”
Even twitchy with the anger with Angel – hell, with her – he almost cracked a smile at that.
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Date: 2007-05-27 07:23 pm (UTC)Yay for campy evil! For the most part, I have no skills and need others to do icons for me. This is the only one I ever managed ot make myself. :)