A Christmas Slay - Chapter 6/8, Spike/Buffy
A Christmas Slay
by FemailoftheSpecies (cafedemonde)
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
R Rating
Warnings: Beta'd my me so... Spoilers up to BtVS, S4 and AtS, S1. Adult themes and situations, evil vampiric acts of mischief, and general Hellmouthy fun.
Summary: What really happened after Willow's spell ended.
A/N - IWRY took place, but when the Powers reversed the day, they missed something. Something Blue occurred as well, but Spike and Buffy did more than snog.
Feedback is appreciated.
Chapter 6
Joyce waved goodbye as she backed out of the driveway, the cargo of her SUV filled with little appetizers and desserts she had made for the holiday reception at her gallery. Spike had agreed to help her prepare the scones, but only if she promised never to tell a soul. Crippled as he was, he still had a reputation to uphold and baking Christmas treats did not help.
Spike closed the door and took an inventory of his surroundings. A vampire thing, he supposed, he was completely aware of everything around him at all times…until he wasn’t. Which was usually after polishing off a bottle or two. But tonight he was a sober demon, thanks to some good conversation and a sense of purpose, and felt like relaxing. A definite change from his constant urge for violence.
The mood he was in, tea held appeal so his first order of business was to make a pot and he poured himself a mug before dropping onto the sofa, remote in hand. He flipped through the channels rapidly, scowling at the vast amount of nothingness on the television before stopping on a black and white show…Bewitched.
How fitting.
Because of a little bewitching, he was going to be a father. It was as unsettling as it was perplexing. And research had turned up diddly squat, making him feel helpless to this unknown, but not necessarily undesired fate. He didn’t wish for this, never in a million years would it have crossed his mind, but now the possibility held interest. It also made him want to get out of this god forsaken town with the little bit of dignity he still had. Before he became a sappy parent for some human spawn. Or worse, a horrible parent.
And how could he ever explain this to Dru?
Frustrated, Spike tossed the remote down and let his head fall back against the sofa cushions. “What the bloody hell have you gotten yourself into now?” he asked himself and was declining to answer when the doorbell rang. Startled, he jumped up, senses immediately on high as felt his kind and stalked to the entryway.
He knew who it was and as he unlocked the door he wondered if the invite had ever been revoked. He seriously doubted it, but opened it anyway and greeted his sire.
“Angel.”
Angel stepped inside, looming over Spike and overtly sniffing him up. “We need to talk.”
Spike retreated into the house, grabbing his coat. “What could have dragged you from your caped-crusade?” he asked while searching the pockets for his cigarettes. He knew better than to smoke inside, Joyce had been very firm about that, but he also knew that Angel wouldn’t start anything within these walls. Just because he liked a little violence in his day didn’t mean he enjoyed being the victim of it.
“Where’s Buffy,” Angel replied, following Spike into the living room.
“Don’t know. Not her bleeding mum, am I?”
Angel surveyed the room. Not much had changed since he was last here. Except for the scent of Spike all over every last inch of this house. He clenched his fist and turned to face the blond.
“Let’s take a walk.” He picked up Spike’s coat and threw it at him. He wasn’t going to have Joyce tear him a new one by beating Spike down in her home. “Now.”
Spike raised an eyebrow and settled into the couch. “I’m fine right here, Peaches.” He picked up the remote.
“Wow. This is new,” Angel laughed and crossed his arms. “Never knew you to hide behind a women.”
“Never knew you to care about what I did.” Spike didn’t bother to look up from the antics of cousin Serena.
Angel maneuvered to stand in front of the set, blocking Spike’s view. “When you hurt what’s mine, I care.”
“Oh didn’t her hurt,” Spike smirked and added, “Well, I did when she asked me to.”
Predictably, Angel’s big hand was immediately around his throat, the other gripping his chin and for second Spike thought he was going to kiss him. That was how it started between them often enough. Violence that shifted into something else, equally passionate and destructive, but infinitely more satisfying. Instead he was yelling in Spike’s face. “Don’t talk about her like that!”
“So you don’t want to hear how tight and sweet her hot little cunny was when she jumped me the first of many times?”
Angel banged his head back, but it was pretty ineffectual against the couch cushions. “You’re sick and twist and will not touch her ever again,” he hissed, spittle hanging from his bottom lip.
Undeterred, Spike whispered, “And you’re hard.”
He stopped, releasing Spike as he straightened up, hating his body’s reaction to Spike. “Be glad I don’t stake your ass.”
Rolling his eyes, Spike could not believe how easy Angel was. “Yeah, well, been there, done that.”
“That’s not what I meant! Why are you always fucking up?”
Spike frowned up at him. “How’s this my fault? You want to point that fat Mick finger of yours at someone, try Red. Was her sodding mojo running amok that started all this.”
Running a hand down his face, Angel did his best not to growl or change faces. Logically, what Spike said was true, but demon to demon, Buffy was his, not Spike’s and no magic changed that. Now because of a cruel twist of fate, she was pregnant with his child, but Spike was going to get the credit for it. Unless he confessed to Buffy about the day she’d forgotten, Spike was going to be the father of his kid.
Have Buffy hate him or have Spike raise his child to hate him. His options really sucked.
~~~~~~
by FemailoftheSpecies (cafedemonde)
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
R Rating
Warnings: Beta'd my me so... Spoilers up to BtVS, S4 and AtS, S1. Adult themes and situations, evil vampiric acts of mischief, and general Hellmouthy fun.
Summary: What really happened after Willow's spell ended.
A/N - IWRY took place, but when the Powers reversed the day, they missed something. Something Blue occurred as well, but Spike and Buffy did more than snog.
Feedback is appreciated.
Chapter 6
Joyce waved goodbye as she backed out of the driveway, the cargo of her SUV filled with little appetizers and desserts she had made for the holiday reception at her gallery. Spike had agreed to help her prepare the scones, but only if she promised never to tell a soul. Crippled as he was, he still had a reputation to uphold and baking Christmas treats did not help.
Spike closed the door and took an inventory of his surroundings. A vampire thing, he supposed, he was completely aware of everything around him at all times…until he wasn’t. Which was usually after polishing off a bottle or two. But tonight he was a sober demon, thanks to some good conversation and a sense of purpose, and felt like relaxing. A definite change from his constant urge for violence.
The mood he was in, tea held appeal so his first order of business was to make a pot and he poured himself a mug before dropping onto the sofa, remote in hand. He flipped through the channels rapidly, scowling at the vast amount of nothingness on the television before stopping on a black and white show…Bewitched.
How fitting.
Because of a little bewitching, he was going to be a father. It was as unsettling as it was perplexing. And research had turned up diddly squat, making him feel helpless to this unknown, but not necessarily undesired fate. He didn’t wish for this, never in a million years would it have crossed his mind, but now the possibility held interest. It also made him want to get out of this god forsaken town with the little bit of dignity he still had. Before he became a sappy parent for some human spawn. Or worse, a horrible parent.
And how could he ever explain this to Dru?
Frustrated, Spike tossed the remote down and let his head fall back against the sofa cushions. “What the bloody hell have you gotten yourself into now?” he asked himself and was declining to answer when the doorbell rang. Startled, he jumped up, senses immediately on high as felt his kind and stalked to the entryway.
He knew who it was and as he unlocked the door he wondered if the invite had ever been revoked. He seriously doubted it, but opened it anyway and greeted his sire.
“Angel.”
Angel stepped inside, looming over Spike and overtly sniffing him up. “We need to talk.”
Spike retreated into the house, grabbing his coat. “What could have dragged you from your caped-crusade?” he asked while searching the pockets for his cigarettes. He knew better than to smoke inside, Joyce had been very firm about that, but he also knew that Angel wouldn’t start anything within these walls. Just because he liked a little violence in his day didn’t mean he enjoyed being the victim of it.
“Where’s Buffy,” Angel replied, following Spike into the living room.
“Don’t know. Not her bleeding mum, am I?”
Angel surveyed the room. Not much had changed since he was last here. Except for the scent of Spike all over every last inch of this house. He clenched his fist and turned to face the blond.
“Let’s take a walk.” He picked up Spike’s coat and threw it at him. He wasn’t going to have Joyce tear him a new one by beating Spike down in her home. “Now.”
Spike raised an eyebrow and settled into the couch. “I’m fine right here, Peaches.” He picked up the remote.
“Wow. This is new,” Angel laughed and crossed his arms. “Never knew you to hide behind a women.”
“Never knew you to care about what I did.” Spike didn’t bother to look up from the antics of cousin Serena.
Angel maneuvered to stand in front of the set, blocking Spike’s view. “When you hurt what’s mine, I care.”
“Oh didn’t her hurt,” Spike smirked and added, “Well, I did when she asked me to.”
Predictably, Angel’s big hand was immediately around his throat, the other gripping his chin and for second Spike thought he was going to kiss him. That was how it started between them often enough. Violence that shifted into something else, equally passionate and destructive, but infinitely more satisfying. Instead he was yelling in Spike’s face. “Don’t talk about her like that!”
“So you don’t want to hear how tight and sweet her hot little cunny was when she jumped me the first of many times?”
Angel banged his head back, but it was pretty ineffectual against the couch cushions. “You’re sick and twist and will not touch her ever again,” he hissed, spittle hanging from his bottom lip.
Undeterred, Spike whispered, “And you’re hard.”
He stopped, releasing Spike as he straightened up, hating his body’s reaction to Spike. “Be glad I don’t stake your ass.”
Rolling his eyes, Spike could not believe how easy Angel was. “Yeah, well, been there, done that.”
“That’s not what I meant! Why are you always fucking up?”
Spike frowned up at him. “How’s this my fault? You want to point that fat Mick finger of yours at someone, try Red. Was her sodding mojo running amok that started all this.”
Running a hand down his face, Angel did his best not to growl or change faces. Logically, what Spike said was true, but demon to demon, Buffy was his, not Spike’s and no magic changed that. Now because of a cruel twist of fate, she was pregnant with his child, but Spike was going to get the credit for it. Unless he confessed to Buffy about the day she’d forgotten, Spike was going to be the father of his kid.
Have Buffy hate him or have Spike raise his child to hate him. His options really sucked.
~~~~~~