1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14
Juliatheyounger
Author's Site: http://www.geocities.com/juliatheyounger/fiction.htm
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and all the clever people at Mutant Enemy etc own these characters, I'm just sad and obsessed with Spike and felt the need to write about them ;)
Summary: Spike, Buffy, sex. What? You want a plot? Ok, Spike and Buffy spend some quality time fighting a child snatching snot monster. Fluffy B/S shippy fic.
Rating: R for adult concepts, language and not too descriptive sex (sorry I'm no good at smut).
Spoilers: Season 5 up to Intervention (maybe some after that)
Feedback: Yes please! (Although I'm a Buffy/Spike shipper
virgin so please be gentle).
Distribution: In the extremely rare chance that someone a, actually reads this, and b
wants to put it elsewhere, then YES PLEASE DO! But let me know so I can be suitably
flattered.
Author's note: Set after the Glory incident. She imploded. I know, I know, terrible, sad things ACTUALLY happen in the real Buffyverse, but cos I'm in Australia I haven't seen the finale yet. I started writing this before I read those spoilers so just pretend this is an alternate universe where certain people don't die and Glory conveniently got sucked into her own personal black hole. Thanks! ;)
*****************************************************************************
Spike kicked himself as they walked back towards the cemetery. Stupid git, he thought. They’d been getting along so well, until he opened his sodding mouth and pissed her off. He’d actually had a point, when he’d started talking about having sex with her. He’d been trying to show that she didn’t necessary need to bring all that angst and emotion stuff into something that was as real and physical as her slaying. That sex should be fun, not a tortured experience with delicately handled feelings. Somehow things had gotten sidetracked along the way. He’d seen her eyes though. For a moment, she’d definitely thought about it. For a few seconds. And then he’d gone too far. A sudden thought brightened him. Maybe she was frustrated! Maybe that was why she’d gotten all grumpy.
"How long has it been since you had sex Slayer?" Spike asked and then nearly throttled himself.
"Excuse me?" Could he fucking read her mind or something?
Part of Spike wanted to punch himself in the nose then back peddle out of the verbal hole he’d started excavating, but the part that seemed to be in control of his mouth kept on shoveling.
"Well, Soldier Boy’s been gone a while now. Just wondering." He let his insinuation hang in the air.
"For your information Spike, I am not frustrated."
She was! She was frustrated. Ok wanker, Spike said to himself. Shut the fuck up now, cos even if there is the slightest chance she’ll stop thinking of you as the scum of the earth, she won’t be doing anything with you if she thinks she has to prove you wrong. He opened his mouth but luckily the less masochistic part of him got control and he shut up. He let her walk ahead for a while. He grinned. This was fun.
"So," Buffy said suddenly. "I suppose that’s why you and Harmony were together."
"Why’s that pet?" Spike was walking alongside her comfortably.
"Cos of the nasty vamp sex fun. You can’t tell me there was a lot of deep and meaningful about Harmony."
"Harmony had her moments," he said.
Was that a flicker of … what, jealousy? No he must be seeing things.
"Moments of complete bimboness," muttered Buffy.
"Is bimboness even a word?" He looked at Buffy curiously.
"Definitely, when you’re describing Harm," Buffy said airily.
"I thought you two were pals at school?"
"As if!" Buffy pulled a face. "She was a major biatch. Her and Cordelia were friends."
"Ah, we weren’t in the popular crowd then Slayer?"
"The Look At Me, I’m Vacuous and Completely Self-Centred crowd? No, I think not."
A part of Spike, very long forgotten or at least relentlessly crushed, could relate. He lit a cigarette.
"Yeh well, popularity’s over-rated, pet," he murmured. "Everyone knows it’s the loners who are the coolest."
"Like you I suppose. Oh I forgot, you were always Big Bad."
Spike’s mouth flickered into a grin. He’d almost forgotten the mangled version he’d told her of his pre-vampire life. He’d definitely left out the geeky poet desperate for acceptance part, with the stupid hair and bloody specs. What a bunch of tosspots that mob of society types were.
"Something like that," he said.
Buffy found herself laughing. Spike was telling her about Victorian England, when he was alive. Telling her about the terribly polite, stuffy people who had inhabited his world. And the not so polite ones who lived on its fringes, the servants, the street people, the lower class.
"…and there was this one fellow, irritating git, fancied himself a poet. Bloody terrible at it he was. Floppy hair, glasses, the lot. He had a thing for that Cecily bird I told you about."
Buffy nodded. Part of her felt almost jealous, the way Spike had described Cecily. And part of her hated the woman, because Spike’s vampire eyes now saw how petty, selfish and vain she was.
"One time I remember he had written this poem about her. Awful thing it was. Used the word effulgent. Well, the others got hold of it and read it out. You should’ve seen her face. She soon set him straight." Spike tossed a stone at a tree.
"The poor guy," Buffy said. She looked up at Spike, a little taken aback by the casual cruelty with which he described the man’s humiliation. "What an awful thing to do Spike."
Spike looked down at her. A small smile flickered at his lips. "Pet, that was me."
"You?" Buffy studied him, his frank admission amazing her. "You were the poet?"
He cocked his head to the side studying her. "Yeah, I was a sodding wimp, now you know the awful truth," he said. Suddenly he looked away, the compassion in her eyes embarrassing him.
"What happened?" Part of Buffy wanted him to end up with Cecily.
He suddenly grinned evilly. "That night Dru turned me and I killed every last one of them smug bastards."
"Cecily?" asked Buffy. She saw Spike pause.
"No. Not Cecily."
He and Buffy walked in silence for a while. This is comfortable, Buffy thought. Spike’s a complete pain, but it’s still comfortable. The evening had been sort of fun. When Spike hadn’t been making her uncomfortable or irritating the life out of her, that is. She snuck a glance at the man beside her. Funny how she had stopped thinking of him as her enemy. One day he’d lose the chip and she’d kill him. She knew she had to remember this. It would make things easier.
"Buffy," Spike said suddenly, interrupting her reverie. His tone disturbed her. It was serious, concerned, nice. She looked up at him questioningly.
"How you feeling pet? After all that business with Glory." He wanted to say, are you getting over your mum ok, but he didn’t push it.
Buffy looked at him, frowning. He was doing that sensitive thing again.
"Its just that you’re looking happier lately pet, is all," Spike said. He stood in front of her. Not touching her. His eyes however searched her face.
"Yeh, I’m feeling better. I guess I was pretty stressed out before."
Spike nodded. "Good," he said. It was the second time that night he’d said that. And both times it had been because she hadn’t been feeling bad. Then he smirked at her. "And you’ve put on weight too," he added.
Buffy glared at him. "I have not!"
He chuckled at her softly. "Luv, it’s a compliment. You’re looking better. Healthier."
"More blood I suppose," said Buffy darkly. She ignored how his approval made her feel.
"Especially across the arse."
Buffy punched him in the arm, flicked her hair and started walking.
*****
Spike watched her arse for a few seconds then followed after her. Definitely looking better. Bloody gorgeous figure aside, she seemed less stressed. More vibrant. She’d let herself get so thin and run down worrying about Niblet and her Mum and Glory. The break from nasties had been good for her.