Disclaimer: the characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only and all rights remain with Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the writers of the original episodes, and the TV and production companies responsible for the original television shows. BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER ©2002 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. All Rights Reserved. The Buffy the Vampire Slayer trademark is used without express permission from Fox. ANGEL ©2001 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. All Rights Reserved. The ANGEL trademark is used without express permission from Fox. All Rights Reserved.
Author’s note: this is seriously
dark, disturbed, and twisted. Be warned. It even disturbs me and I wrote it.Smells Like Teen Spirit
It had to be pheromones. She was becoming immune to them now, all this time of living in the same apartment without the Immortal ever getting round to fucking her, and she could see what he really was. Chubby, balding, and hey, they say size doesn’t matter but it does, she knew that now, and she’d seen it and it wasn’t exactly the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Selfish, greedy – although that wouldn’t necessarily put Buffy off, she’d been best friends with Willow for years after all – unfaithful, and not big with the doing good gig. No way would Buffy even give him a second look, you’d have thought, but here she was, dancing attendance on him; almost his slave.
Dawn hated him. Sure, the first few weeks she’d hung round, hoping he’d give her a bit of what Buffy – and lots of other girls – were getting. Then she’d found herself mooning over him less, and begun to notice the attention the Italian boys were giving her. Lots of attention.
And some of them were pretty cute. Pietro, Angelo – although touch of creepiness there with the name factor – Genaro, Claudio, Leonardo – who didn’t mind the Turtle jokes – and more.
And she was horny, what with all the sex going on. And she was legal here, and her sister didn’t seem to care what she was up to, as long as Buffy got her Immortal ration.
So she’d given it up to Pietro. And hey, it was pretty damn good. But there was nothing but the sex. No big feelings for him. So when Genaro tried it on she let him. And Claudio, and Angelo, and Leonardo, and Giaccomo, and Ricardo. And Pietro and Genaro both at once.
And Buffy never noticed a damn thing.
Then Dawn went swimming with Ricardo and Claudio, and they lost interest. Started to chat up some other girls. So she cried, and went back to the changing rooms, and dried, and dressed; and as soon as she was back in her clothes the guys were all over her again.
Pheromones. Clinging to her clothes, from being in that apartment. Clinging to her body until she had washed them off.
Andrew, babe magnet? Like, yeah, as if. Pheromones, clinging to him too.
So she made the best of it. Half her allowance went on condoms now, and she was on the Pill as well, just to be doubly sure. Spent more time on her back than on her feet. Hating every moment of her life when she didn’t actually have a boy inside her. Or two boys. A couple of times even three.
And none of it made Buffy take any notice of her at all. Okay, orgasms were of the good, and now she knew what Anya had meant all those times, more fun than the stealing ever was, but they only killed the loneliness for a few minutes.
Some nights she’d spend alone and she’d cry. She’d think back, and try to remember the last time she’d really felt loved. Loved for herself, not just because there was some creepy perfume clinging to her. What came to mind was one dreadful night when Willow had dragged her along to her dealer, and taken her on that insane car ride, and she’d broken her arm, and he’d come and taken her to the hospital and sat with her. Comforting, caring, loving. Devotion without limits. Her brother in everything but birth. Spike.
Gone for good.
She’d thrown it away. Taken Buffy’s side without knowing the whole story. Threatened to set him on fire. Even then, with her being all big with the ‘hate Spike’, he’d still cared. When Giles’ creepy bug thing had triggered something and Spike had thrown that bench, and it had hit her, his first thought had been to see to her. And she’d just brushed him off like he didn’t mean anything. And now he was dead, and she could never make it right between them.
Maybe it was Buffy she should have threatened to set on fire. Maybe she should set the Immortal on fire. Except, he wasn’t really a vampire. Human. Alchemist, she thought, one of those Renaissance guys searching for the Fountain of Youth, and he’d found it and got extra fringe benefits. So, set him on fire and there’d be a corpse, and the Polizia would want to know who did it, and she’d go to jail. Which would not be big on the fun factor, Faith had said enough to confirm that.
So she put up with it. One more year of school to get through, before she completed the International Baccalaureate and could go off to College. One more year of living here in Pheromone Central. One more year of sharing the apartment with a zombie sex slave and a creep. Two creeps, currently, although surely Andrew couldn’t be staying for much longer.
And this long summer holiday to get through first. Her and Janice, who’d come to stay for a few weeks over Summer Vacation, getting a taste of life outside the US of A. Someone to share memories of Sunnydale with, someone who’d known Spike and could talk about him without all the emotional baggage that meant she could never talk about Spike to Buffy or Willow or Giles – and talking about Spike to Andrew was seriously creepy.
And someone else who got contaminated by the pheromones. Someone else who the Immortal couldn’t be bothered to fuck, because he liked fucking Slayers and vampires and demons and Watchers and witches and evil lawyers. Maybe because he got an extra kick out of fucking women – and men, he wasn’t fussy – who wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole if his little chemical edge didn’t give him power over them. Although he’d fucked Andrew a few times. That had to have been tactical, to assert his control. No way could he have actually fancied the little weasel.
So Janice had to get it elsewhere, like Dawn had had to, and before long they were getting it together. Kneeling side by side on a bed, bare asses up in the air. Here we are now, entertain us. Pietro and Genaro coming up behind them, entering them, thrusting away, swapping places at half time. Pulling out just before they came, pulling off the condoms, spunking all over the girls’ asses and halfway up their backs. Splattering hot on their skin for a moment, and then turning cold. Making them feel alive, for a few minutes, and then they were cold and empty again. Until the next cock.
She’d hoped Janice would be someone who would help her climb out of this darkness, but instead she’d been swallowed up by it. Both of them lost in a world with no boundaries. It didn’t matter what they did, Buffy never noticed, or if she did notice she didn’t care. Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law. Teenage heaven, right? Except that it was Hell.
She’d had a dream once, shortly before she’d given up and started fucking around. Spike had flown in and sorted everything out. Thrown out the Immortal, thrown out Andrew, moved in. Taken control. Asked where she was going at night, made sure she wore a helmet when a boy took her out on his scooter, told the boy that he had to have her back by eleven and if his hands went anywhere they shouldn’t then Spike would rip the lad’s knackers off and stuff them up his sodding nose. And Dream Dawn had rolled her eyes, and complained, and pushed the limits, and been told off, and had been happy.
If only it could have been real. But it had been an impossible fantasy. He was gone forever, burned up and then swallowed up as Sunnydale collapsed on him. Leaving behind only a scar on Buffy’s hand and a brother-shaped hole in Dawn’s heart.
A hole that could never be filled.