"Weapon of Choice" - A BtVS Drabble
Title: Weapon of Choice
Author: illyriaz_shell
Original Publish Date: July, 2009
Rating: R (implied sex)
Takes Place: Mid- Season 6
Pairing: Spuffy
Summary: A drabble in which Spike ponders his favourite weapon. Prompt for drabble challenge for whedonland sub-community, wlwolframhart .
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, not mine, so don't sue.
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In over a hundred years, Spike had pretty much fought in any which way one could. Long range, hand to hand; full-on frontal, silent attack from the back. Whatever the situation called for, really; as long as he'd gotten to fight, he had no preference for how, or with whom.
But with what; THAT was a different story.
He didn't care for guns; he'd use them if he had to, but aside from the noise that could draw unwanted attention, there was something too cold about bullets.
A sword, a knife, an axe; they had a much more personal touch to them. The weight in his hands, his grip on the handle, made him actually feel like he was in battle. The satisfaction of landing a blow or delivering a killing strike; that was real fighting to him.
But when it came down to it, Spike was all about fists and fangs. There was nothing more fulfilling then the crunching, snapping, or ripping apart of limbs with his own bare hands. And tearing flesh with his teeth, whether to feed or just to claim victory; in those moments, he was glad vampires were built for bloodshed.
He prepared his body-as-a-weapon for the fight once again, though he was hardly worried about the half-a-dozen fledgling vamps that had come to collect on the kittens he owed the new Loan Shark. He was annoyed, however, as they surrounded him and Buffy. The pair was pressed up against a mausoleum near his crypt in a rather compromising position. Her face flushed with embarrassment at being caught, she didn't hesitate to trade barbs with the flunkies as she pushed Spike off, reassembled her clothing, and pulled a stake from her waistband. To him, she whispered a pun about hating their fuck-and-fight relationship. He was about to tear their heads off for their rude interruption when she dove forward.
Instead, he decided to lean against the cold stone, light up a cigarette and observe rather than participate. She thought he was repulsive for indulging in kitten currency, and she'd tell him later that she was simply doing her job killing those vamps and protecting the secret of their affair, but he knew that a hidden part of her was creating this hurricane of dust to protect him. So he wouldn't pry; he'd just let her work. He watched, moonlight shining off her skin, creating a shimmer as her hair bounced while she ducked, kicked, punched, jabbed and staked her way through the graveyard.
For her, the mood may be dead, but his libido was more than in overdrive watching her performance. His style was all brute force, but he couldn’t help but be mesmerized as she fought with a feminine grace. If he was merely built to kill, she’d been bloody designed by the Powers for carnage. Every time he was treated to this show, he couldn't help but fall a bit more in love.
With His pet. His Slayer. And yeah, if she'd let him choose, His weapon of choice.
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Author: illyriaz_shell
Original Publish Date: July, 2009
Rating: R (implied sex)
Takes Place: Mid- Season 6
Pairing: Spuffy
Summary: A drabble in which Spike ponders his favourite weapon. Prompt for drabble challenge for whedonland sub-community, wlwolframhart .
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, not mine, so don't sue.
----------
In over a hundred years, Spike had pretty much fought in any which way one could. Long range, hand to hand; full-on frontal, silent attack from the back. Whatever the situation called for, really; as long as he'd gotten to fight, he had no preference for how, or with whom.
But with what; THAT was a different story.
He didn't care for guns; he'd use them if he had to, but aside from the noise that could draw unwanted attention, there was something too cold about bullets.
A sword, a knife, an axe; they had a much more personal touch to them. The weight in his hands, his grip on the handle, made him actually feel like he was in battle. The satisfaction of landing a blow or delivering a killing strike; that was real fighting to him.
But when it came down to it, Spike was all about fists and fangs. There was nothing more fulfilling then the crunching, snapping, or ripping apart of limbs with his own bare hands. And tearing flesh with his teeth, whether to feed or just to claim victory; in those moments, he was glad vampires were built for bloodshed.
He prepared his body-as-a-weapon for the fight once again, though he was hardly worried about the half-a-dozen fledgling vamps that had come to collect on the kittens he owed the new Loan Shark. He was annoyed, however, as they surrounded him and Buffy. The pair was pressed up against a mausoleum near his crypt in a rather compromising position. Her face flushed with embarrassment at being caught, she didn't hesitate to trade barbs with the flunkies as she pushed Spike off, reassembled her clothing, and pulled a stake from her waistband. To him, she whispered a pun about hating their fuck-and-fight relationship. He was about to tear their heads off for their rude interruption when she dove forward.
Instead, he decided to lean against the cold stone, light up a cigarette and observe rather than participate. She thought he was repulsive for indulging in kitten currency, and she'd tell him later that she was simply doing her job killing those vamps and protecting the secret of their affair, but he knew that a hidden part of her was creating this hurricane of dust to protect him. So he wouldn't pry; he'd just let her work. He watched, moonlight shining off her skin, creating a shimmer as her hair bounced while she ducked, kicked, punched, jabbed and staked her way through the graveyard.
For her, the mood may be dead, but his libido was more than in overdrive watching her performance. His style was all brute force, but he couldn’t help but be mesmerized as she fought with a feminine grace. If he was merely built to kill, she’d been bloody designed by the Powers for carnage. Every time he was treated to this show, he couldn't help but fall a bit more in love.
With His pet. His Slayer. And yeah, if she'd let him choose, His weapon of choice.
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