'Deep Sea Rescue' by Quinara
I'll warn you, I'm not entirely sure this is a story. But it's written now, and there's Spuffy and a kraken? Nothing AO3-warning worthy. Probably PG. 870-ish words.
So, Spike actually got on his container ship. Unfortunately there was a freak accident...
Deep Sea Rescue.
He always got her into the stupidest situations. Even now, when there wasn’t any proof he existed, he had her unable to keep her balance and wanting to throw up, trying to explain that it was entirely possible he was still alive at the bottom of the North Sea.
“OK, look,” Buffy explained to the two serious-looking men in wetsuits. One had a moustache; she had no idea why, if this was his job, since it had to be annoying when damp. He managed to look serious all the same, though, which was an achievement. “Spike is a vampire. I don’t care if you don’t believe me, you can think what you like, but there’ll be a cave or lair or something down there and Angel said it’s seriously possible you’re gonna find a pissed-off looking corpse tucked up in some weeds.” There was no time for thinking about said corpse, no time for thinking that he could be animate again, or with her, or… “Bring him back!” she demanded as the ship rolled, not sure she was making a big enough impression. “And don’t give him any air! He probably doesn’t know all the stuff about pressure either.”
Really, she’d wanted to go herself, knew this would go better if she went herself; she’d had Giles on the phone and been ready to learn what she needed. She’d seen The Little Mermaid, how hard could it be? But he’d refused point blank for her to even think about it, and had sounded scared enough that she’d actually listened to him panicking about the bends and current strengths and thermoclines. Add to that the fact she’d once drowned in a puddle and, well, she’d been convincible that the risk was too risky. But that still left her trying to convince these two Norwegian guys - apparently among the best wreck divers in the world (how did Giles know these people?) - that this was way more important than some treasure chest or whatever.
Mostly, though, they were ignoring her in favour of checking their dials again. It was frustrating.
“Buffy?” came Faith’s voice, her head following it around the door with a lurch. “Captain thinks we’ve sighted it.” She looked kinda green, Faith, but she’d come for moral support so it would be rude to mention. Also because Buffy was fairly sure she looked peaky herself. Crappy slayer constitution… “D’you wanna get behind the harpoon?”
Oh yeah, the only part of the mission she could do. “Boy, do I ever,” Buffy told Faith, meeting her grimace with a dangerous grin.
If you’d asked her to put money on who would win out of her and a kraken, Buffy wasn’t sure she’d have picked herself. But, when you considered that the demon had been trying to get between her and a very well-earned (earned, dammit) reunion with her current number one guy in the world? There was no contest. Her sea legs got standing, her senses went sharp, her aptitude for weapons had her understanding water resistance better than the algebra she’d spent three years trying to pick up. She owned that whaling boat and the sea it sailed on.
When she killed it, the kraken dissolved into a pleasing shimmer of grey goo beneath their floodlights, allowing Buffy to return, satisfied, to the cabin. And wait.
And wait, uselessly. Until, long hours later, her Spike was pushed over the side of the boat like a large and scraggly fish.
It was a good thing vampire skin was durable, that was the first thing Buffy thought. He’d been down there at least three days, but he still looked recognisably human-ish. Definitely prune-like, but he embarrassed Faith when Buffy stripped him on the deck, making the other slayer offer foil blankets and fleeces with an abrupt drop-and-run. “Uh, yeah, I’ll just…” she said, while Buffy didn’t look up. “I’m gonna see how long…”
Buffy carefully mummified Spike in the foil, not sure what drying out would do to him initially, before bundling the fleece around him and taking them both inside. Probably the fleeces wouldn’t do very much for him, but it made him much more comfy to snuggle against. Body heat was good, right?
Surprisingly, Spike actually came out fugue not that far from Bergen, coughing up pints of water and struggling in his wrapping. “Don’t,” she told him shortly, holding him still and not sure what else to say.
He stopped moving, apparently figuring things out. “Didn’t mean - you… Rescue me,” he croaked at last with some sort of humour, shifting his fleece-wrapped head against her shoulder.
This was ridiculous, wasn’t it? This was really ridiculous. When he burned up, she failed, but pull him down into the deep and pile water on him? She was there, with a boat and a crew and a Faith who was weirded out by wrinkly penises. “I’ll always save you,” she said, suddenly choking back tears. “If nothing else, if you let me, I’ll always…”
“Me - up for…” he whispered, before his energy left him.
She’d dreamed of saving him hundreds of times, but none of them had gone like this. Reality, it was unpredictable.
Who cared? She would make it work.
.
So, Spike actually got on his container ship. Unfortunately there was a freak accident...
Deep Sea Rescue.
He always got her into the stupidest situations. Even now, when there wasn’t any proof he existed, he had her unable to keep her balance and wanting to throw up, trying to explain that it was entirely possible he was still alive at the bottom of the North Sea.
“OK, look,” Buffy explained to the two serious-looking men in wetsuits. One had a moustache; she had no idea why, if this was his job, since it had to be annoying when damp. He managed to look serious all the same, though, which was an achievement. “Spike is a vampire. I don’t care if you don’t believe me, you can think what you like, but there’ll be a cave or lair or something down there and Angel said it’s seriously possible you’re gonna find a pissed-off looking corpse tucked up in some weeds.” There was no time for thinking about said corpse, no time for thinking that he could be animate again, or with her, or… “Bring him back!” she demanded as the ship rolled, not sure she was making a big enough impression. “And don’t give him any air! He probably doesn’t know all the stuff about pressure either.”
Really, she’d wanted to go herself, knew this would go better if she went herself; she’d had Giles on the phone and been ready to learn what she needed. She’d seen The Little Mermaid, how hard could it be? But he’d refused point blank for her to even think about it, and had sounded scared enough that she’d actually listened to him panicking about the bends and current strengths and thermoclines. Add to that the fact she’d once drowned in a puddle and, well, she’d been convincible that the risk was too risky. But that still left her trying to convince these two Norwegian guys - apparently among the best wreck divers in the world (how did Giles know these people?) - that this was way more important than some treasure chest or whatever.
Mostly, though, they were ignoring her in favour of checking their dials again. It was frustrating.
“Buffy?” came Faith’s voice, her head following it around the door with a lurch. “Captain thinks we’ve sighted it.” She looked kinda green, Faith, but she’d come for moral support so it would be rude to mention. Also because Buffy was fairly sure she looked peaky herself. Crappy slayer constitution… “D’you wanna get behind the harpoon?”
Oh yeah, the only part of the mission she could do. “Boy, do I ever,” Buffy told Faith, meeting her grimace with a dangerous grin.
If you’d asked her to put money on who would win out of her and a kraken, Buffy wasn’t sure she’d have picked herself. But, when you considered that the demon had been trying to get between her and a very well-earned (earned, dammit) reunion with her current number one guy in the world? There was no contest. Her sea legs got standing, her senses went sharp, her aptitude for weapons had her understanding water resistance better than the algebra she’d spent three years trying to pick up. She owned that whaling boat and the sea it sailed on.
When she killed it, the kraken dissolved into a pleasing shimmer of grey goo beneath their floodlights, allowing Buffy to return, satisfied, to the cabin. And wait.
And wait, uselessly. Until, long hours later, her Spike was pushed over the side of the boat like a large and scraggly fish.
It was a good thing vampire skin was durable, that was the first thing Buffy thought. He’d been down there at least three days, but he still looked recognisably human-ish. Definitely prune-like, but he embarrassed Faith when Buffy stripped him on the deck, making the other slayer offer foil blankets and fleeces with an abrupt drop-and-run. “Uh, yeah, I’ll just…” she said, while Buffy didn’t look up. “I’m gonna see how long…”
Buffy carefully mummified Spike in the foil, not sure what drying out would do to him initially, before bundling the fleece around him and taking them both inside. Probably the fleeces wouldn’t do very much for him, but it made him much more comfy to snuggle against. Body heat was good, right?
Surprisingly, Spike actually came out fugue not that far from Bergen, coughing up pints of water and struggling in his wrapping. “Don’t,” she told him shortly, holding him still and not sure what else to say.
He stopped moving, apparently figuring things out. “Didn’t mean - you… Rescue me,” he croaked at last with some sort of humour, shifting his fleece-wrapped head against her shoulder.
This was ridiculous, wasn’t it? This was really ridiculous. When he burned up, she failed, but pull him down into the deep and pile water on him? She was there, with a boat and a crew and a Faith who was weirded out by wrinkly penises. “I’ll always save you,” she said, suddenly choking back tears. “If nothing else, if you let me, I’ll always…”
“Me - up for…” he whispered, before his energy left him.
She’d dreamed of saving him hundreds of times, but none of them had gone like this. Reality, it was unpredictable.
Who cared? She would make it work.
.