The two little girls moved about their mother’s room quietly as possible, whispering and smothering their giggles as they did. Their mother was fast asleep on the lounge, sleeping off the massive hangover she’d gotten from a night out on the town the night before. The television was on softly, telling the uncaring room of the racing car scores, the only thing that was on, on a Saturday afternoon. An almost empty bottle coke sat beside the lounge along with the spread open paper from the fish and chips they had eaten for lunch, the margarine and half a loaf of bread littered the floor too.

The girls closed the bedroom door over, so not to wake their mother, knowing she would get angry at being woken up. First the little girls picked up the clothes their mother had worn the night before, pulling them on over their own clothes, pretending to be her. Pulling their hair out of ponytails and flipping their heads over to fluff it up like they had seen her do so many times. They posed in front of the mirror, turning this way and that, giggling and deciding to rifle through her draws next, they wanted to look just like mummy.

Dresses, leather mini skirts, shirts that were more holes then fabric, trying on her bras and filing them with socks to fill them out. Outfit after outfit, until they found ones they liked and then came the jewellery. Especially quiet the girls separated the wooden necklaces from the jingling bracelets, placing the large hoop earrings over their ears as they weren’t pierced. All of mummy’s jewellery was used, long necklaces wrapped around waists like belts or around heads like headbands.

Then came the makeup, dark lipsticks, that, in their eyes made them look so much older and so much like their mummy, without realizing it their giggles became louder and their whispers more excited. Mummy’s boots with their chunky heals were pulled on, clunking along the floor as the girls walked around in them. The lounge creaked and the girls froze, their mother rolling over, the older girl looked at the younger one sternly, her finger to her lips, signalling her to be very quiet. A grumble and disgruntled shush came from the lounge room and playtime was over.

They quickly pulled off mummy’s boots and clothes, flinging them into the bottom of her wardrobe and shoved the jewellery off shushing each other if they made any noise. Peeking around the door the girl’s checked to see if mummy was still asleep or at least turned towards the back of the lounge. Once they were sure they were safe they ran to the bathroom, quickly scrubbing off the make up they had applied and brushing their hair back into its normal state.

Their mother stirred again and they rushed into their bedroom, giggling quietly as they pulled out their dolls, glad they had not been found out.

The little girls grew up, so why can’t their mother?

Title: Drawn to the Ink (1/ ? )

Author: lidda_anne aka aliensister

Disclaimer: Pfft like I would be writing fanfic if I own the damn thing lmao!

Rating: Adult(Drug use, sex and swearing)

Summary: Takes place after the Angel Finale.

Prompts: Lindsey or Darla / Painting / Bath or Shower / Tattoo Kink

Warning: I write this part in the wee hours of morning so if something doesn’t sound right please tell me! Also this is not only my first Nekid numbers but my first BTVS fic so fb is sooo appreciated!

~*~*~ Drawn to the Ink ~*~*~

“Soddin’…hell,” echoed through the dark night air in a downtown factory district as a drunken figure swaggered with a slight stumble through the alleyways between buildings. Moonlight glimmered off the neon white hair of the figure; the rest of him covered head to toe in black as he moved towards on of the buildings, pulling the rusted door open with an obviously inhuman strength. Pulling a cigarette and lighter out of the pockets from the great black coat he was wearing, the man clicked open the silver lighter, holding the flame in one hand. Placing the cigarette in his mouth, the bottle of bourbon gripped in his strong two fingered grip he lit the cigarette and headed into the condemned factory slamming the heavy steel door behind him.

Down a flight of stairs into the bowels of the building, stumbling along as he continued to knock back the litre of bourbon he had stolen from the liquor store. Heading into the room he’d claimed as is crypt for the last couple of weeks, switching on the stolen lamp with the stolen power he’d rigged when he found the place. Falling back onto the makeshift bed, he swallowed the last of the bourbon and threw the empty glass bottle, listening to it as it smashed against the cement wall.

“Charming.” Came the soft, whimsical drawl from across the other side of the room, making the man on the bed’s head jerk up glaring at the woman, dressed in a gauzy white dress, through bleary eyes before letting his head drop back to the mattress with a thump.

“Bloody hell… Thought you were dead, again, bint.” He growled with distaste, as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Nice to see you too, Spike.” He could hear the smug laughter in her voice, his hand automatically rising to give her the one fingered salute.

“Darla, what the soddin’ hell are you doing here, bothering me?” Spike asked exasperated, raising his head to stare at her. All Spike wanted to do was spend the next century or so get getting sloshed, fucking and fighting, he wanted no part of the whole Powers That Be or the white hats, it never ended well for him.

“The Powers need your help…” Darla started and then rolling her eyes as Spike quickly interrupted, jumping up from the bed and stalking over to her, the effect only slightly hampered by his unsteady steps fuelled by his intoxicated state.

“No, no bloody way!” Spike snarled, his face practically pressed against Darla’s very unimpressed one.

“Seen it before, William… so back up and this is help you already promised.” Darla calmly explained one eyebrow raised waiting for Spike to move back out of her face.

“What the bloody hell are you on about?!” Spike growled pulling out another cigarette and lighting it furiously, still eyeing Darla. He’d seen enough of the Powers That Be, to see that when you were selected for a challenge by them you tend to not be able to get out of it. Pacing across the floor Spike wished he’d grabbed another bottle of Jack at the Liquor store.

“The Key, Dawn… she’s in trouble.” Darla’s words were soft but they seemed to scream in Spike’s ears, his nibblet was in trouble, his pacing paused and his shoulders slumped as he remembered her face the last time he saw her. The look of disgust and betrayal, was still so clear in his mind, no trace left of the wide eyed trust and love he’d come to know the summer of Buffy’s death.  

“So let Big Sis or the Scoobies to look afta’ her.” Spike answered, drawing back, hard on his cigarette. He knew he would head out and find Dawn, not that he would let himself be seen by her but even if her body was filled with hate for him, she was still his little nibblet. Spike would protest and lie to Darla just to keep face but he knew he was going to find her and so did she.

~*~*~*~*~

Stubbing out another cigarette beneath his boot, Spike leaned back against the stolen black Desoto, just like the one he’d lost back in the gaping hole that was now Sunnydale. There was no way he was going to have a repeat of his trip to Italy with the Poof. Spike may have ridden a Vesper there but he was in Amsterdam and unlike the Poof he had some self respect and was no riding a bicycle like the locals. Darla had let Dawn’s location slip “just in case” he changed his mind and decided to find the lil bit. The only thing she didn’t mention was what exactly it was that he was supposed to be protecting her from or why it was that Darla had said that letting the Scoobies know of his presence wasn’t the best idea.

Amsterdam made sense to Spike, as a place for Dawn to run, what better place to rebel your way out from underneath Buffy’s over controlling nature. Arriving in the country, after stealing his ride Spike had made his way to Dawn’s apartment, just in time to watch her walk down the street to an over crowded café. His car was parked in a well shadowed area so he didn’t bother leaving it to watch over her, it was the first time he’d seen her in nearly five years, and he almost couldn’t believe the change in her, almost. He’d always known she would be a knock out, as much as he had cursed himself for thinking it when she was just a scrawny kid but he had been right, so very right.

Dawn had most definitely grown into her body, luscious curves in all the right places and long, thick, wavy, silken chestnut hair flowing down her back and the fact that her jeans and red tank top looked like they’d been painted on her really wasn’t helping the tightness of his own jeans. He watched the snivelling little boys sniffing around his nibblet and couldn’t hold back the growl that formed in his throat. Spike’s fangs came out and his eyes yellowed into his feral state as he watched one of the boys wrap their arm around Dawn, handing her a drink and watching as she chugged it down. He’d been around long enough to know that the giddy look in the kid’s eyes that the drink wasn’t just alcohol.

It took all the patience that he’d gained in his long lifetime to wait till the drink had started to take affect before pulling Dawn out of the party like he planned to. He may not have been around Dawn in a couple of years but he well and truly knew the stubborn nature of the Summers’ women and if he tried to remove her from the party before she realised anything was wrong, he’d probably cop the punch in the nose he deserved. Also, it occurred to Spike that if he waited until she was a bit intoxicated she would care less when he stuck his fist down the little creep’s throat.

Spike watched Dawn with a mixture of surprise, amazement and a lot of lust as she moved about the café, taking a puff of cigarette and then a joint, all the while sipping her drug tainted beer. It was easy for him to see that this was not a first time for Dawn, as she smoked a joint with ease. His little Dawnie had become a bad girl and it made him a very, very bad man to be thinking about her the way he currently was. He watched as his girl started to sway slightly and the ponce who’d given her the drink come up beside her, his hand sliding up the back of her shirt and he leaned in to whisper in her ear and Spike had to fight his demon not to speed over there and rip the little shit’s head off.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike walked onto the café premises, completely ignoring the heated looks and whispers of the girls and some of the boys in the place; he was here for one girl. After he beat the snot out of the Nancy boy for giving his girl a spiked drink he was taking her out of this joint and planned on giving her a right talking to for being so careless. Any demon could have snuck in and caught her unaware instead of it being him.

He could see the frown on her face as the ponce obviously tried to get her to leave with him, Dawn was swaying and looking kind of pale and Spike’s fists tightened as he walked closer. Spike knew the minute she saw him because he heart pounded in his ears and her eyes went wide, like he remembered from when he would tell her tales of the Big Bad.

“I suggest you take your hands off ‘er, mate.” Spike warned with a smirk on his face but his eyes solely for Dawn who was still swaying. Anyone with half a brain would have known to step back, out of the way between the Big Bad and his nibblet but of course this prat didn’t have that as he puffed his chest out and tried to step forward. He saw Dawn roll her eyes and he smirked, his fist flying out and hitting the little gobshite on the face once and watched Dawn’s face as her date hit the ground. Spike had to admit he was slightly disappointed he would have liked a little bit more of a fight so he could have really beat the snot out of the kid but it wasn’t surprising, seeing as the prat was about as scrawny Dawn when she was fifteen. Dawn gripped the railing beside them so not to sway as she glared at him.

“Well, geez, thanks Spike you knocked him out now you can go crawl back under whatever rock you crawled out from under…” Dawn slurred and Spike shook his head, there was no chance he was going to leave her alone.

“Sorry pet, you’re coming with me.” Spike shrugged, falsely apologetic and trying to resist grinning as Dawn shook her head wildly, stepping backwards and nearly falling over due to her intoxication.

To Be Continued.

Works In Progress: August

Roswell. Liz/Max(zan like max) Max is a tattoo artist and Liz wants more tats, raunchy love occurs. That's all im saying cause thats all I know.

BTVS. I'm working on a Nekid Numbers piece for Nekid Spike comm.

Tin Man. The sequel to Bryce's Missing Princes...which I'm hoping to have done for her birthday :P

Title: One Step Closer
Author: aliensister aka lidda_anne
'Verse: Roswell
Claim/Characters/Pairing:  M/L
Rating: Adult

Warnings: Hate sex?
Disclaimer: If I owned it do you seriously think I would be writing fanfiction?
Summary: A story about two people’s love tarred by hate and how they briefly express it. Hate sex, be warned!
Table/Prompt: Plot? What Plot?/ Hate!sex

Are you ever completely amazed by how something so small can completely change your life, or even just the reality you surround yourself with? how one decision can change the path you thought you were destined for?

I'm having some what of an epiphany, or maybe it's just a realization of how much 2009 has changed my circumstances, within my self and the world around me. I don't want to compare last year to this year, seeing as we're only four months into it or even state the amazing things that have come into my life, that have bought around this change because I don't think I could limit them. So the list would be too long lol. I would love to be able to pin point the moment that it began to change, for my self and my own curiousity but I have so many little moments that spring to mind that I'm not sure which was the big one.

I am sure at one stage or another the person, who has some what helped my change, will read this. Darling, while I love you, it's not all about you, so do not get a swelled head LOL!