169 Fic - In-Flight Conversation
Title: In-Flight Conversation
Author: eilowyn
Rating: PG
Word Count: 966
Prompt: 169
Spike, Buffy, Illyria, Connor
A/N: Takes place shortly after Issue #35. Steampunk Spaceship of DOOM copyright quinara. Also, I make use of a particular anachronism that really bugged me in the comics, but Meltzer did the timeline fail first. So there. Shout out to what I'm currently reading and enjoying just there for my own amusement. I'm fanwanking that Xander had a copy laying around one of the times Spike was staying with him. Yeah, I fanwank my own fiction.
Willow is punishing me.
That was the only explanation for why Buffy was sitting here, listening to this conversation.
"She smells of copulation with the half-breed."
"Thanks, Blue. Really needed to hear that."
Buffy turned in her seat to look at the blue-haired woman sitting in the rear seat of Spike's shuttle. She sat ramrod straight, head held high, the seatbelt pressed against her strange body armor as if it were a royal sash of office. Next to her sat a boy about Dawn's age, scruffy hair in his eyes. Spike said his name was Connor, and not much else about him, like he was hiding something. The kid looked absently out the porthole window, appearing more as a bored teenager stuck on a family road trip than a defender of humanity off to Burma to fight the demons pouring in from a rip in the fabric of reality. The woman, Illyria, was the only person who would meet her eyes as Buffy came aboard Spike's steampunk spaceship of doom, and her cold, assessing gaze made Buffy feel like she'd been weighed and found wanting. The boy just nodded at her, while Spike had given her a withering glance, shaking his head in disappointment before beginning a preflight engine check and tuning the stereo on to play the Clash at a level that would have smothered conversation for most mortals.
Apparently the woman wasn't mortal - she seemed almost chatty.
"Their coupling caused the seismic activity we detected earlier?" she asked Spike.
"Yeah."
"That tsunami that hit Japan was them, also?"
"Yes, pet."
"And the avalanche?"
"Illyria, what's the point you're gettin' at, love?" Spike sounded slightly exasperated. There was also a hint of dejection in his voice, but Buffy didn't want to examine why he'd be feeling dejected right now. That would lead to all sorts of badness.
"If fornication with the being calling himself Angel caused such cataclysmic disasters, why would she be doing so? The red-headed one's communication said he'd just killed two-hundred of her slayers, and intercourse with one's enemies is never becoming of a general, even among the lower beings."
"That's just how Buffy and Angel say 'hello,' isn't it, pet?"
Ouch.
Strained silence followed that comment, and they all listened to Joe Strummer sing about rocking the Casbah.
Willow is punishing me, Buffy told herself again. She'd been a little taken aback when Willow began barking orders to the slayers, taking charge of the slayer army as soon as Spike showed up in his demon-destroying ship, as if contingency plans had been made in advance in case something were to happen. She'd looked to Giles as if to ask why the red witch was taking over, with Faith, Dawn and Xander consulting her like they were their own little war council, but Giles couldn’t meet her eyes, instead continuing to examine Andrew’s wounds and ignoring the chaos around him. It was Willow’s idea to send her to help the slayers in Burma, and Willow who volunteered Spike’s ship and his team to transport her. “You and Angel should split up, spread the super powers around,” Willow had said, “and Spike’s ship can get you there the fastest.” However fast Spike’s ship was, it wasn’t fast enough for Buffy.
“So, you and Angel?” Spike deigned to ask her, giving her a glance. There was reproach in his tone, and some hurt. Buffy felt like a weasel.
“Um . . .” This was one conversation Buffy so didn’t want to be having.
“I’m sure there were plenty misty, water-colored memories goin’ on, yeah? Just couldn’t help yourselves? After all, him acting like a righteous prick must take you right back to high school, doesn’t it?”
She knew she deserved at least some of his scorn, boffing the bad guy in the mask, as Xander had so eloquently put it. Buffy remained silent.
“I guess every girl wants to be Bella Swan, eh?”
Now, that was just uncalled for!
“I am so not like that whiny little twit! And hey! It wasn’t exactly my fault!” Buffy defended herself, her voice rising as she drowned out even the Clash.
“No? Then why go all Promethea and shag the world to hell? I guess I should be glad all we did was destroy a house!”
Behind them, Connor and Illyria glanced at each other. Destroyed a house? Connor mouthed.
“I was . . . compelled?” Buffy answered weakly.
“Yeah, Peaches is real compelling, pet!”
“What? Look, it was some mystical, supernatural push or something. I got, like, super powers, and it was all destiny-ish, and I couldn’t stop myself! It’s like the Universe wanted us to do it!”
“‘The Universe made me do it’? Really, Slayer, that’s a weak excuse, even for you!”
Buffy’s heart jumped a little as he called her Slayer again. She’d really missed that, and how forthrightly he spoke to her.
“Come up with that twinkie defense all by yourself, love?”
The constant, grating insults, though? Not so much.
“Oh, come on! You’re lecturing me? I didn’t even know you were alive! That might have been some nice information to share! What, was the Universe compelling you to not pick up the phone?”
“What, put out because I’m no longer your lapdog? Sorry, Slayer, but I had other stuff to do besides nip at your heels!” Spike’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles going noticeably whiter.
“Does that include ‘doing’ that blue-haired chick?”
“Jealous, pet?”
“Oh, don’t even-”
Illyria tuned the arguing couple up front out, and began examining the skeleton of the ship, determined to find meaning in its intricate lines. Connor shrugged his shoulders and mumbled to himself, “Geez, they’re worse than when Spike and Dad go at it!”
Author: eilowyn
Rating: PG
Word Count: 966
Prompt: 169
Spike, Buffy, Illyria, Connor
A/N: Takes place shortly after Issue #35. Steampunk Spaceship of DOOM copyright quinara. Also, I make use of a particular anachronism that really bugged me in the comics, but Meltzer did the timeline fail first. So there. Shout out to what I'm currently reading and enjoying just there for my own amusement. I'm fanwanking that Xander had a copy laying around one of the times Spike was staying with him. Yeah, I fanwank my own fiction.
Willow is punishing me.
That was the only explanation for why Buffy was sitting here, listening to this conversation.
"She smells of copulation with the half-breed."
"Thanks, Blue. Really needed to hear that."
Buffy turned in her seat to look at the blue-haired woman sitting in the rear seat of Spike's shuttle. She sat ramrod straight, head held high, the seatbelt pressed against her strange body armor as if it were a royal sash of office. Next to her sat a boy about Dawn's age, scruffy hair in his eyes. Spike said his name was Connor, and not much else about him, like he was hiding something. The kid looked absently out the porthole window, appearing more as a bored teenager stuck on a family road trip than a defender of humanity off to Burma to fight the demons pouring in from a rip in the fabric of reality. The woman, Illyria, was the only person who would meet her eyes as Buffy came aboard Spike's steampunk spaceship of doom, and her cold, assessing gaze made Buffy feel like she'd been weighed and found wanting. The boy just nodded at her, while Spike had given her a withering glance, shaking his head in disappointment before beginning a preflight engine check and tuning the stereo on to play the Clash at a level that would have smothered conversation for most mortals.
Apparently the woman wasn't mortal - she seemed almost chatty.
"Their coupling caused the seismic activity we detected earlier?" she asked Spike.
"Yeah."
"That tsunami that hit Japan was them, also?"
"Yes, pet."
"And the avalanche?"
"Illyria, what's the point you're gettin' at, love?" Spike sounded slightly exasperated. There was also a hint of dejection in his voice, but Buffy didn't want to examine why he'd be feeling dejected right now. That would lead to all sorts of badness.
"If fornication with the being calling himself Angel caused such cataclysmic disasters, why would she be doing so? The red-headed one's communication said he'd just killed two-hundred of her slayers, and intercourse with one's enemies is never becoming of a general, even among the lower beings."
"That's just how Buffy and Angel say 'hello,' isn't it, pet?"
Ouch.
Strained silence followed that comment, and they all listened to Joe Strummer sing about rocking the Casbah.
Willow is punishing me, Buffy told herself again. She'd been a little taken aback when Willow began barking orders to the slayers, taking charge of the slayer army as soon as Spike showed up in his demon-destroying ship, as if contingency plans had been made in advance in case something were to happen. She'd looked to Giles as if to ask why the red witch was taking over, with Faith, Dawn and Xander consulting her like they were their own little war council, but Giles couldn’t meet her eyes, instead continuing to examine Andrew’s wounds and ignoring the chaos around him. It was Willow’s idea to send her to help the slayers in Burma, and Willow who volunteered Spike’s ship and his team to transport her. “You and Angel should split up, spread the super powers around,” Willow had said, “and Spike’s ship can get you there the fastest.” However fast Spike’s ship was, it wasn’t fast enough for Buffy.
“So, you and Angel?” Spike deigned to ask her, giving her a glance. There was reproach in his tone, and some hurt. Buffy felt like a weasel.
“Um . . .” This was one conversation Buffy so didn’t want to be having.
“I’m sure there were plenty misty, water-colored memories goin’ on, yeah? Just couldn’t help yourselves? After all, him acting like a righteous prick must take you right back to high school, doesn’t it?”
She knew she deserved at least some of his scorn, boffing the bad guy in the mask, as Xander had so eloquently put it. Buffy remained silent.
“I guess every girl wants to be Bella Swan, eh?”
Now, that was just uncalled for!
“I am so not like that whiny little twit! And hey! It wasn’t exactly my fault!” Buffy defended herself, her voice rising as she drowned out even the Clash.
“No? Then why go all Promethea and shag the world to hell? I guess I should be glad all we did was destroy a house!”
Behind them, Connor and Illyria glanced at each other. Destroyed a house? Connor mouthed.
“I was . . . compelled?” Buffy answered weakly.
“Yeah, Peaches is real compelling, pet!”
“What? Look, it was some mystical, supernatural push or something. I got, like, super powers, and it was all destiny-ish, and I couldn’t stop myself! It’s like the Universe wanted us to do it!”
“‘The Universe made me do it’? Really, Slayer, that’s a weak excuse, even for you!”
Buffy’s heart jumped a little as he called her Slayer again. She’d really missed that, and how forthrightly he spoke to her.
“Come up with that twinkie defense all by yourself, love?”
The constant, grating insults, though? Not so much.
“Oh, come on! You’re lecturing me? I didn’t even know you were alive! That might have been some nice information to share! What, was the Universe compelling you to not pick up the phone?”
“What, put out because I’m no longer your lapdog? Sorry, Slayer, but I had other stuff to do besides nip at your heels!” Spike’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles going noticeably whiter.
“Does that include ‘doing’ that blue-haired chick?”
“Jealous, pet?”
“Oh, don’t even-”
Illyria tuned the arguing couple up front out, and began examining the skeleton of the ship, determined to find meaning in its intricate lines. Connor shrugged his shoulders and mumbled to himself, “Geez, they’re worse than when Spike and Dad go at it!”