REPOST : Sweet Thing, You Make My Heart Sing - Buffyverse - Spike
Title: Sweet Thing, You Make My Heart Sing
Rating: PG-13
Setting: Set directly after Season six’s “Dead Things”.
Characters: Spike, Willow, Tara
Disclaimer: Buffy and the gang belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
Summary: Spike sings Karaoke. Not the worst thing that’s happened that evening, but probably the final straw.
Author's Notes: Warning : bad puns ahead. Also, I prove that I can’t write Spike very well.
Spike limped through the woods surrounding his crypt. Almost at the cemetery now, and then he could rest. See what Buffy had done to him outside the police station. At least he’d seen her walk back out almost instantly, so she couldn’t be that badly off. Gently he probed the myriad pains and bruises on his body.
Absentmindedly, he started to sing as he pushed his way through the undergrowth.
“My love, she beats me black and blue,
Oh oh oh, It’s a Slayer thing,
She’ll just punch me or break my jaw,
Oh oh oh, It’s a Slayer thing.”
He stopped dead in his tracks. “Oh hell, no!” he swore, and cast a careful look around the forest. Suddenly he dived into a nearby bush, and came out clutching a small round bright red demon about two feet in height.
Dangling it upside down by one short and hairy leg, Spike regarded it carefully. Using his free hand to place a cigarette in his mouth, he said “Alright, so what the hell is going on here, sunshine? Spill yer guts, or I start spilling ‘em for you.”
For some reason, the frenzied struggles increased at this. Eventually, it became clear that Spike was not going to let go, and it stopped. Eventually, it rotated around to face Spike and a very embarrassed looking smile appeared. “Um… Hi?” it said.
Spike blew a cloud of smoke into what he assumed was the face. “No. More. Singing. Ok?” he asked in what he considered to be a very pleasant tone. “Had quite enough of that with Sweet.”
He paused. Hallo - Did that thing just twitch when he said Sweet?
“You know Sweet?”
Definite twitch. “Tall demon, blue suit, likes to sing a lot? Ring any bells, mate?”
The grin was edging towards a particularly cheesy, slightly worried one. “Ah… I might have heard of him….”
Spike quickly short-circuited that line of bullshit by stubbing out his cigarette on a particularly hairy part of the demon, close to what he presumed was the groin area.
“Ahhhh! Oh, that Sweet!” babbles the demon. “Nice guy, rules his own netherworld, makes people sing, I decided to copy him and make my way up….oh. Oh shit.” He tried to smile again, but this time the strain was definitely showing.
“Let me get this straight,” said Spike wearily, “You’re basically a mini-Sweet.”
The demon nodded furiously, “Bringing fun and music out from everyone’s hearts. Any chance I could get down now, ok?”
Spike rubbed his aching forehead. “So why was I singing along to U2 then?”
“Eh, well, there’s a funny story there,” the demon said, trying to shrug his arms, “I’m only a young Kosloth, so the best I can do is um….well… Karaoke.”
Spike lost it at that. “You complete dickhead! Don’t ever come back here again, willya!”, and threw the Kosloth up in the air. Suddenly aware of two figures approaching him from behind, he still waited until the Kosloth fell lower - and kicked it violently between the legs propelling it far, far away.
Then, straightening his duster, and turning round with a sneer ready on his lips, he was greeted by Willow and Tara applauding. He blinked. Not quite what he’d been expecting.
“Um…” started Tara, hesitatingly. “Was that the thing that just made us sing again?”
His eyebrow raised. “You too?”
Willow blushed. “We just met up by accident in town, then found ourselves massacring Queen by singing ‘It’s kinda tragic’.”
“Well, don’t think it’ll be coming back any time soon,“ smirked Spike. “Now if you ladies will excuse me…” He tried to limp away, but was stopped by an arm on him.
“But you’re injured, Spike…Oh Goddess, just look at those cuts and bruises,” said Tara delicately touching his battered face.
“Oh that… but that was.. I mean… It was nothing,” said Spike struck by a sudden inspiration. “The demon thingie was a right vicious sod, all claws and stuff, but I stopped it alright.”
He shook himself free of Tara’s grasp, and added a rather realistic quiver to his voice “I’ll be okay by meself. You don’t have to worry..”
“Rubbish!” declared Willow firmly. “That thing was a pain to us, but you’re really beaten up. The least we can do is look after you for the night.”
Tara lined up next to Willow, arms folded, and her face set in a miniature version of Willow’s famed Resolve Face. “And we’re not going to take no for an answer either.”
“Well,” said Spike consideringly, “Guess there’s no way I can talk you out of this?”
“Nope!” said Willow, taking one arm while Tara took the other, “We’re going to make sure you’re better.”
“Totally under protest, mind you,” said Spike, strolling off with the two witches. “This sort of thing could seriously damage a Big Bad’s reputation.”
~Fin~
Rating: PG-13
Setting: Set directly after Season six’s “Dead Things”.
Characters: Spike, Willow, Tara
Disclaimer: Buffy and the gang belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
Summary: Spike sings Karaoke. Not the worst thing that’s happened that evening, but probably the final straw.
Author's Notes: Warning : bad puns ahead. Also, I prove that I can’t write Spike very well.
Spike limped through the woods surrounding his crypt. Almost at the cemetery now, and then he could rest. See what Buffy had done to him outside the police station. At least he’d seen her walk back out almost instantly, so she couldn’t be that badly off. Gently he probed the myriad pains and bruises on his body.
Absentmindedly, he started to sing as he pushed his way through the undergrowth.
“My love, she beats me black and blue,
Oh oh oh, It’s a Slayer thing,
She’ll just punch me or break my jaw,
Oh oh oh, It’s a Slayer thing.”
He stopped dead in his tracks. “Oh hell, no!” he swore, and cast a careful look around the forest. Suddenly he dived into a nearby bush, and came out clutching a small round bright red demon about two feet in height.
Dangling it upside down by one short and hairy leg, Spike regarded it carefully. Using his free hand to place a cigarette in his mouth, he said “Alright, so what the hell is going on here, sunshine? Spill yer guts, or I start spilling ‘em for you.”
For some reason, the frenzied struggles increased at this. Eventually, it became clear that Spike was not going to let go, and it stopped. Eventually, it rotated around to face Spike and a very embarrassed looking smile appeared. “Um… Hi?” it said.
Spike blew a cloud of smoke into what he assumed was the face. “No. More. Singing. Ok?” he asked in what he considered to be a very pleasant tone. “Had quite enough of that with Sweet.”
He paused. Hallo - Did that thing just twitch when he said Sweet?
“You know Sweet?”
Definite twitch. “Tall demon, blue suit, likes to sing a lot? Ring any bells, mate?”
The grin was edging towards a particularly cheesy, slightly worried one. “Ah… I might have heard of him….”
Spike quickly short-circuited that line of bullshit by stubbing out his cigarette on a particularly hairy part of the demon, close to what he presumed was the groin area.
“Ahhhh! Oh, that Sweet!” babbles the demon. “Nice guy, rules his own netherworld, makes people sing, I decided to copy him and make my way up….oh. Oh shit.” He tried to smile again, but this time the strain was definitely showing.
“Let me get this straight,” said Spike wearily, “You’re basically a mini-Sweet.”
The demon nodded furiously, “Bringing fun and music out from everyone’s hearts. Any chance I could get down now, ok?”
Spike rubbed his aching forehead. “So why was I singing along to U2 then?”
“Eh, well, there’s a funny story there,” the demon said, trying to shrug his arms, “I’m only a young Kosloth, so the best I can do is um….well… Karaoke.”
Spike lost it at that. “You complete dickhead! Don’t ever come back here again, willya!”, and threw the Kosloth up in the air. Suddenly aware of two figures approaching him from behind, he still waited until the Kosloth fell lower - and kicked it violently between the legs propelling it far, far away.
Then, straightening his duster, and turning round with a sneer ready on his lips, he was greeted by Willow and Tara applauding. He blinked. Not quite what he’d been expecting.
“Um…” started Tara, hesitatingly. “Was that the thing that just made us sing again?”
His eyebrow raised. “You too?”
Willow blushed. “We just met up by accident in town, then found ourselves massacring Queen by singing ‘It’s kinda tragic’.”
“Well, don’t think it’ll be coming back any time soon,“ smirked Spike. “Now if you ladies will excuse me…” He tried to limp away, but was stopped by an arm on him.
“But you’re injured, Spike…Oh Goddess, just look at those cuts and bruises,” said Tara delicately touching his battered face.
“Oh that… but that was.. I mean… It was nothing,” said Spike struck by a sudden inspiration. “The demon thingie was a right vicious sod, all claws and stuff, but I stopped it alright.”
He shook himself free of Tara’s grasp, and added a rather realistic quiver to his voice “I’ll be okay by meself. You don’t have to worry..”
“Rubbish!” declared Willow firmly. “That thing was a pain to us, but you’re really beaten up. The least we can do is look after you for the night.”
Tara lined up next to Willow, arms folded, and her face set in a miniature version of Willow’s famed Resolve Face. “And we’re not going to take no for an answer either.”
“Well,” said Spike consideringly, “Guess there’s no way I can talk you out of this?”
“Nope!” said Willow, taking one arm while Tara took the other, “We’re going to make sure you’re better.”
“Totally under protest, mind you,” said Spike, strolling off with the two witches. “This sort of thing could seriously damage a Big Bad’s reputation.”
~Fin~