Sweet Sixteen



He’s waiting for her when she comes out of Spike’s crypt, stake in hand, tapping it against his leg.

She tries to walk past him, chin high, eyes facing front...but his arm comes out and bars the way, and she stops because it doesn’t move, won’t move, and it’s under her breasts, so that when she pushes forward angrily they rub against his skin.

And she shivers, lemon-ice tingles, because she’s not used to thinking of him like that. He’s funny, he’s sweet, he’s someone she crushed on – so over that now – he’s not supposed to make her feel like Spike does.

“Thought I told you not to do this again. You stay away from him, understand?”

She glances up at him, flirting just a little because it’s only fair he feels as awkward as she just did. “Make me.”

He stares down at her and she realises he always will, because she’s all grown up now, isn’t she? “Don’t need to, Dawn.” He flips the stake, end over end, catches it deftly, because it’s his stake, he carved it, he balanced it for his hand. “Just need to remove the temptation.”

And as he walks towards where she left Spike sleeping, she wonders how he’ll remove her when the day comes, or if he’ll just – finally - give in.

Curious, she leans against a grave and calls his name and when he turns, she saves Spike with a kiss, blown like a robin’s egg, and a beckoning finger.




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