The Jaws of Death (Spike/Buffy, PG13)
Title The Jaws of Death
Author Brutti ma buoni
Rating PG13
Pairing Spike/Buffy
Words 700
Setting Post-series
A/N More Rulesverse Spuffy mission. I think this creepy quote deserves something spookier, but I'm apparently stuck on cute…
Prompt:Hamlet III ii 388-390
'Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world.
Spike loved zombies. Almost as much as Buffy hated them. Also, she hated 3am graveyard duty. This was what newbie Slayers were for, right?
She had a terrible suspicion that Spike got off on the fact zombies were human, or had been, and he was fantasising that they were murder victims to add to his vampiric tally of death. Or else it was some kind of vamp snobbery. Zombies really weren't that impressive to the former William the Bloody.
Also, the fact they couldn’t detect him and went straight for the humans was a big plus from his perspective. He was choosing to sit out this particular bout with the newly-risen (and shambling) dead.
“You’re doin’ great, love. Really evening up your swing now. Hardly know you’d, whoops, watch that spin-kick, you’ve not got the power you used to-”
Buffy was not out of breath. No sir. “This is not- a- damn- training session! Get down here and- HELP ME!”
Irritatingly, he was too high up for her to grab at his legs and pull him down to the fight. His voice came down clearly enough, though. “Nah, I’ve got a strategic overview of the battleground up here. That one you cut the legs off is still moving, and he's got some kind of weapon, maybe a wrench - watch yourself if you’re over that way. Plus there’s a couple of old folks and a bloody big bloke, looks like a trucker, just coming up out of the earth now. Think the oldsters were buried together. Sweet, eh?”
“William the Bloody, if you don’t get down here right now I am... Cutting you off!”
“What now?”
“Cutting you off! No mission sex for Spike! You wanted to come away for a romantic three weeks killing stuff and watching for the Apocalypse, you can damn well help me kill the zombie hordes of Stavanger before the Armageddon cult gets to use them to raise Fenrir. Also, I broke my heel, and I like these boots.”
Spike understood then that it was serious, she thought. He leapt from the yew tree, coat billowing. Show-off. The encroaching older zombies were beheaded with a perfect forehand-backhand combo of his - teeny bit ostentatious - scythe. The trucker, who was indeed large, was dispatched in the old Caleb way, which she knew Spike had been secretly practising since 2003. He really did do it well though. She paused to admire him, and wait for the next advancing zombie horde.
"So, uh, Slayer, remind me how many graves must open for this whole shebang?"
"Uhm, threescore and ten? Or was it seventy times seven?"
"Bit of a difference, love."
"Well, you check it, I have zombies to slay." She tried to look lofty, which was difficult due to differential heel heights, yet more zombie attacks from multiple quarters, and also technically not being very tall.
Spike swore quietly as his phone keys slipped in chilly fingers. "Bollocks, you're right. Seventy times seven. This could take all night."
Buffy pouted, purely for show. "Weeell, we could maybe… cheat?"
"'M always up for cheating, sweets. What's your suggestion?"
She matched his evil grin. "I have gasoline. We could round 'em up and torch them." Always a popular option for Spike, and his smile grew wider, despite the shuffling masses threatening to surround him.
"Nice plan. Plus, gives us the rest of the night off. Think we might find some way to pass the time?"
Buffy went to fetch the gas, plus a little tinder and accelerant for security. Fighting a path to the car was a little challenging for a while. She threw back over her shoulder, "Well, since you were so very, very heroic, saving me from those terrible ravening zombies…" More rose, and ravened, as she spoke.
She could hear his laugh even over the thunk of the car door, and the rip of his scythe beheading another zombie. Killed a further handful while fetching the stuff, but yeah, this required a more efficient approach.
The fires stank, and the zombie moans were just nasty. But they were back in bed by 5am, which was perfect.
***
Author Brutti ma buoni
Rating PG13
Pairing Spike/Buffy
Words 700
Setting Post-series
A/N More Rulesverse Spuffy mission. I think this creepy quote deserves something spookier, but I'm apparently stuck on cute…
Prompt:Hamlet III ii 388-390
'Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world.
Spike loved zombies. Almost as much as Buffy hated them. Also, she hated 3am graveyard duty. This was what newbie Slayers were for, right?
She had a terrible suspicion that Spike got off on the fact zombies were human, or had been, and he was fantasising that they were murder victims to add to his vampiric tally of death. Or else it was some kind of vamp snobbery. Zombies really weren't that impressive to the former William the Bloody.
Also, the fact they couldn’t detect him and went straight for the humans was a big plus from his perspective. He was choosing to sit out this particular bout with the newly-risen (and shambling) dead.
“You’re doin’ great, love. Really evening up your swing now. Hardly know you’d, whoops, watch that spin-kick, you’ve not got the power you used to-”
Buffy was not out of breath. No sir. “This is not- a- damn- training session! Get down here and- HELP ME!”
Irritatingly, he was too high up for her to grab at his legs and pull him down to the fight. His voice came down clearly enough, though. “Nah, I’ve got a strategic overview of the battleground up here. That one you cut the legs off is still moving, and he's got some kind of weapon, maybe a wrench - watch yourself if you’re over that way. Plus there’s a couple of old folks and a bloody big bloke, looks like a trucker, just coming up out of the earth now. Think the oldsters were buried together. Sweet, eh?”
“William the Bloody, if you don’t get down here right now I am... Cutting you off!”
“What now?”
“Cutting you off! No mission sex for Spike! You wanted to come away for a romantic three weeks killing stuff and watching for the Apocalypse, you can damn well help me kill the zombie hordes of Stavanger before the Armageddon cult gets to use them to raise Fenrir. Also, I broke my heel, and I like these boots.”
Spike understood then that it was serious, she thought. He leapt from the yew tree, coat billowing. Show-off. The encroaching older zombies were beheaded with a perfect forehand-backhand combo of his - teeny bit ostentatious - scythe. The trucker, who was indeed large, was dispatched in the old Caleb way, which she knew Spike had been secretly practising since 2003. He really did do it well though. She paused to admire him, and wait for the next advancing zombie horde.
"So, uh, Slayer, remind me how many graves must open for this whole shebang?"
"Uhm, threescore and ten? Or was it seventy times seven?"
"Bit of a difference, love."
"Well, you check it, I have zombies to slay." She tried to look lofty, which was difficult due to differential heel heights, yet more zombie attacks from multiple quarters, and also technically not being very tall.
Spike swore quietly as his phone keys slipped in chilly fingers. "Bollocks, you're right. Seventy times seven. This could take all night."
Buffy pouted, purely for show. "Weeell, we could maybe… cheat?"
"'M always up for cheating, sweets. What's your suggestion?"
She matched his evil grin. "I have gasoline. We could round 'em up and torch them." Always a popular option for Spike, and his smile grew wider, despite the shuffling masses threatening to surround him.
"Nice plan. Plus, gives us the rest of the night off. Think we might find some way to pass the time?"
Buffy went to fetch the gas, plus a little tinder and accelerant for security. Fighting a path to the car was a little challenging for a while. She threw back over her shoulder, "Well, since you were so very, very heroic, saving me from those terrible ravening zombies…" More rose, and ravened, as she spoke.
She could hear his laugh even over the thunk of the car door, and the rip of his scythe beheading another zombie. Killed a further handful while fetching the stuff, but yeah, this required a more efficient approach.
The fires stank, and the zombie moans were just nasty. But they were back in bed by 5am, which was perfect.
***