FIC-PG Buffy/Spike: The Warm and Fuzzies
Title: The Warm and Fuzzies
Personal fic community: dfasgbaf (Everything I write posts here.)
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Relationship: Buffy/Spike
Rating/Warnings: FIC-PG, warnings for fluff and heavily soul-influenced Spike.
Genre: Missing Moments/Character Exploration
Word Count: 718
Spoilers: Up to and including "Potential," Season 7. Read no further in these headers if you do not want to be spoiled for that episode.
Summary: Linus had a security blanket. Why shouldn't Spike?
Disclaimer: The characters Buffy and Spike (a/k/a, William) belong to Joss Whedon and all his industry affiliates. I get no profit from this story. I write it only for guilty pleasure and feel free to do so because Joss has encouraged such activity on more than one occasion.
Feedback: Constructive criticism about the body of my work, negative or positive, will be accepted with grace and gratitude. Destructive criticism (insults without examples from my work and suggestions for improvement to fortify the insults) will be deleted and will earn a block from journal, community, inbox, and/or group. Praise is always appreciated, of course!
Author's note: Written as part of my fulfillment of the claim BTVS & ATS: William or Ensouled Spike at fanfic100. This is for prompt #90, Home.
Distribution: Archive sites, etc., of which I am a member. Anyone else, please ask. If you're willing to share the archive info with me, I will probably say yes. Thanks for your interest!
William became suddenly aware of another's presence nearby--alarmingly suddenly--and his eyes popped open in fright. He found he was in a modern basement, and a lovely woman was smiling at h--
Oh, yeah. It's Spike, now, not William. He returned the smile.
"Hey, sleepy head," she said as she walked toward him, her manner deliberately light rather than genuinely so, if her scent was any indication. "How ya feelin'?" As she reached him, the back of her hand pressed gently against his cheek and then his forehead.
He raised an eyebrow at her.
Her blush came instantly as she pulled her hand away. "Okay, that was stupid." She shook her hand slightly, as if she could somehow remove whatever crime she imagined she'd committed. "My bad. Just...a habit, I guess."
He gave her a gentle smile as he removed the bedding from his black-clad body. Blankets were merely a formality, really, for the likes of him, but he'd gladly accepted them without a word because somehow...the thought of being wrapped in something soft and--well, he could imagine warmth, couldn't he, then?--appealed to the little boy inside him, the one who sought comfort. Of course, if anyone here managed to ferret this tidbit of info about him out of him during a weak moment, he'd have to do away with them....
He slid his legs off the cot so his feet touched the ground, then dragged his unwilling corpse to a sitting position. "Don't fret, luv. You know, don't you, that Angel and I still breathe on occasion, even after 100- or 200-odd years, just out of habit?"
She gaped at him. "You're kidding."
He tipped his head a bit and favored her with a warm smile. "Old habits die hard, I 'spect." He stood, then, and stretched his mending bones and muscles, instantly regretting it in some cases. "Ow."
Buffy winced. "Still not all there, huh?"
He glanced her way. "What tipped you off, hm?"
Her eyes went to the floor. "Sorry. Just call me stating-the-obvious girl."
Immediately feeling a twinge of guilt at making a person who had the weight of the world on her shoulders feel like so much dirt, he stepped forward and lifted her chin with a finger. "Hey, look at me." When she did, he continued, "You've got a lot on your mind, now. No need to be worrying yourself over the likes of me--most especially over my petty little snipes, which, by the way, I had no right to. My apologies."
Her eyes widened for a bit, then she recovered and quietly whispered, "Thank you."
"Not at all." Pulling away and restoring appropriate personal space, he said, "Now, don't you have more important things to be doing than tending to me?"
Her face resembled that of someone who'd had a wedge of lemon. "Don't remind me."
A thought struck him. "Anything I can help with?"
She thought for a spell, then grinned widely. "Yes!" She was nearly bouncing in place on her toes. "We have some new potential slayers who aren't really taking the danger that faces us seriously. I want to take them into the field, but--well, you know--real vamps don't stop when people say, 'Wait, take it easy on them. They're new.'"
He nodded, thinking he knew where she might be headed, but waiting for her to continue.
She winced again before continuing. "Would you be willing to be our vampire?" she asked. "You don't have to bite or hurt anyone--just pretend like you want to."
He raised his eyebrow once more. "I still want to, pet," he told her, and dropped his eyes in shame at her look of shock. "I--I mean, the urge is still there...because of the demon. I--William--doesn't want to...personally. You get what I'm sayin', yeah?"
She took his hand in hers. "I do."
He returned his eyes to hers, then, and seeing her smile, gave her a tentative one in return. "Thank God." His eyes flitted away, and then back to hers. "It's bloody hard to explain." They both chuckled, and then he wiggled their entwined hands a little. "Let's go teach some little girls a lesson, shall we?"
She brightened. "Let's shall." And he followed her as she went tripping lightly up the stairs.
Personal fic community: dfasgbaf (Everything I write posts here.)
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Relationship: Buffy/Spike
Rating/Warnings: FIC-PG, warnings for fluff and heavily soul-influenced Spike.
Genre: Missing Moments/Character Exploration
Word Count: 718
Spoilers: Up to and including "Potential," Season 7. Read no further in these headers if you do not want to be spoiled for that episode.
Summary: Linus had a security blanket. Why shouldn't Spike?
Disclaimer: The characters Buffy and Spike (a/k/a, William) belong to Joss Whedon and all his industry affiliates. I get no profit from this story. I write it only for guilty pleasure and feel free to do so because Joss has encouraged such activity on more than one occasion.
Feedback: Constructive criticism about the body of my work, negative or positive, will be accepted with grace and gratitude. Destructive criticism (insults without examples from my work and suggestions for improvement to fortify the insults) will be deleted and will earn a block from journal, community, inbox, and/or group. Praise is always appreciated, of course!
Author's note: Written as part of my fulfillment of the claim BTVS & ATS: William or Ensouled Spike at fanfic100. This is for prompt #90, Home.
Distribution: Archive sites, etc., of which I am a member. Anyone else, please ask. If you're willing to share the archive info with me, I will probably say yes. Thanks for your interest!
William became suddenly aware of another's presence nearby--alarmingly suddenly--and his eyes popped open in fright. He found he was in a modern basement, and a lovely woman was smiling at h--
Oh, yeah. It's Spike, now, not William. He returned the smile.
"Hey, sleepy head," she said as she walked toward him, her manner deliberately light rather than genuinely so, if her scent was any indication. "How ya feelin'?" As she reached him, the back of her hand pressed gently against his cheek and then his forehead.
He raised an eyebrow at her.
Her blush came instantly as she pulled her hand away. "Okay, that was stupid." She shook her hand slightly, as if she could somehow remove whatever crime she imagined she'd committed. "My bad. Just...a habit, I guess."
He gave her a gentle smile as he removed the bedding from his black-clad body. Blankets were merely a formality, really, for the likes of him, but he'd gladly accepted them without a word because somehow...the thought of being wrapped in something soft and--well, he could imagine warmth, couldn't he, then?--appealed to the little boy inside him, the one who sought comfort. Of course, if anyone here managed to ferret this tidbit of info about him out of him during a weak moment, he'd have to do away with them....
He slid his legs off the cot so his feet touched the ground, then dragged his unwilling corpse to a sitting position. "Don't fret, luv. You know, don't you, that Angel and I still breathe on occasion, even after 100- or 200-odd years, just out of habit?"
She gaped at him. "You're kidding."
He tipped his head a bit and favored her with a warm smile. "Old habits die hard, I 'spect." He stood, then, and stretched his mending bones and muscles, instantly regretting it in some cases. "Ow."
Buffy winced. "Still not all there, huh?"
He glanced her way. "What tipped you off, hm?"
Her eyes went to the floor. "Sorry. Just call me stating-the-obvious girl."
Immediately feeling a twinge of guilt at making a person who had the weight of the world on her shoulders feel like so much dirt, he stepped forward and lifted her chin with a finger. "Hey, look at me." When she did, he continued, "You've got a lot on your mind, now. No need to be worrying yourself over the likes of me--most especially over my petty little snipes, which, by the way, I had no right to. My apologies."
Her eyes widened for a bit, then she recovered and quietly whispered, "Thank you."
"Not at all." Pulling away and restoring appropriate personal space, he said, "Now, don't you have more important things to be doing than tending to me?"
Her face resembled that of someone who'd had a wedge of lemon. "Don't remind me."
A thought struck him. "Anything I can help with?"
She thought for a spell, then grinned widely. "Yes!" She was nearly bouncing in place on her toes. "We have some new potential slayers who aren't really taking the danger that faces us seriously. I want to take them into the field, but--well, you know--real vamps don't stop when people say, 'Wait, take it easy on them. They're new.'"
He nodded, thinking he knew where she might be headed, but waiting for her to continue.
She winced again before continuing. "Would you be willing to be our vampire?" she asked. "You don't have to bite or hurt anyone--just pretend like you want to."
He raised his eyebrow once more. "I still want to, pet," he told her, and dropped his eyes in shame at her look of shock. "I--I mean, the urge is still there...because of the demon. I--William--doesn't want to...personally. You get what I'm sayin', yeah?"
She took his hand in hers. "I do."
He returned his eyes to hers, then, and seeing her smile, gave her a tentative one in return. "Thank God." His eyes flitted away, and then back to hers. "It's bloody hard to explain." They both chuckled, and then he wiggled their entwined hands a little. "Let's go teach some little girls a lesson, shall we?"
She brightened. "Let's shall." And he followed her as she went tripping lightly up the stairs.