Choose Your Author Ficathon
Title: Let's Go Kill Something!
Author: spikeNdru
Written for the cya_ficathon community, Round Six, for rahirah
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Rating: PGish
Timeline: Takes place in BtVS S4, post-Something Blue. This story takes the place of Doomed.
Length: 5290 words
Many thanks to makd for the beta, and to leni_ba for continuing to maintain the Choose Your Author Community.
“But I can't help thinking - isn't that where the fire comes from? Can a nice, safe relationship be that intense? I know it's nuts, but, part of me believes that real love and passion have to go hand in hand with pain and fighting. . . . I wonder where I get that from.”
Tracey Forbes, Something Blue
The sun slanting through her window, shining directly into her eyes, awakened Buffy much earlier than she had planned. She threw her forearm over her eyes to block as much of the light as possible and groaned. Wait. The dorm room that she shared with Willow faced west-a real plus when she’d had a late night slaying and thought blowing off morning classes a really excellent idea. Buffy raised her arm a fraction and peeked out at her surroundings. She was in her own room at home. Huh. She couldn’t remember why.
Oh, crap! Buffy burrowed under the covers and twitched the comforter over her head so that she was cocooned in the bed clothes. She might just stay here forever and never come out. In fact, that sounded like a really good idea! How could she face her friends and Riley-ohmigod, Riley! What could she possibly say to Riley?-after actually believing she was engaged to Spike! She glanced at her left hand in horror-the left hand that still wore a huge, clunky, abysmally ugly ‘engagement’ ring. She ripped it off and flung it across the room, where it bounced off the wall and came to rest in a shaft of sunlight that made it glow as if it were radioactive. And for all she knew, it might be! Buffy moaned and dove under the covers again.
Maybe she could just be sick today. She certainly felt sick! She could stay in bed all day and ask her mom to bring her chicken noodle soup and toast cut into four triangles, just the way she liked it when she was a little girl. Maybe she’d just stay in bed for a week . . . until everything blew over and her friends forgot that she and Spike-Spike!-had been betrothed.
And yet . . . and yet . . . she couldn’t help relive the numerous kisses they’d shared. Spike was a really, really good kisser. Much better than Parker. And if she was completely honest about the whole situation, he was possibly . . . maybe . . . she couldn’t believe she was even thinking this, and why did she feel disloyal when Angel was the one who had left her after all . . . a-better-kisser-than-Angel-although she’d never, ever tell anyone that, and would deny it if necessary!
Ohmigod! What was she thinking? How could she even consider a . . . romantic entanglement with another vampire? Not that that’s what she was doing. And Spike didn’t even have a soul! And, well, all right, he did have a chip that kept him from hurting humans, so . . . No! No, that wasn’t the same thing at all. And yet . . . Spike had always been a kind of . . . honorable vampire. Even when he was evil. Not that he wasn’t evil now-he was just kind of neutered. But he’d always kept his word, even before he was . . . neutered. Bad choice of word. Thinking back to their passionate kisses while she was ensconced in his lap, he definitely wasn’t neutered. Buffy’s mind went to a happy place.
Bad Buffy! How could she be fantasizing about her non-fiancé when she had an actual boyfriend. An actual boyfriend who was tall and smart and handsome and nice and who took her on picnics in the daylight! And, she thought, did I mention tall? Riley was really, really tall-taller even than Angel, by at least the space between two shirt buttons. She knew that for a fact, because her nose came to a button lower on Riley than on Angel. She and Spike, on the other hand, fit together nicely. Her nose came to the hollow right below his collarbone, the perfect spot to snuggle in, and he smelled so good. How could someone who was technically dead smell so good? And it wasn’t the, admittedly sexy, expensive cologne smell that Angel used, either. It was just Spike. Cigarettes and whiskey and leather and dead guy. Put like that, it should have been kind of gross, but for some reason, it really wasn’t. Maybe it had to do with-what were those things called? Oh, yeah-pheromones. Spike had really, really good pheromones. Or whatever.
But that was all over now! The kissing and the engagement and the invitations and the kissing and the cake with the cute little bride and groom on top and the kissing and the wedding plans. . . Over. So over. And it wasn't real! It was just a spell. And, okay, the kissing was real, and really nice, but. . . .
She had to stop thinking like this-thinking about Spike as a potential boyfriend. She already had a boyfriend, and another vampire would just complicate things and she so did not need that! She'd get up and shower, and swing by to see how Giles was doing after the spell-induced blindness, before heading back to the dorm to check on Willow, and they'd all pretend this never happened. Spike probably hadn't given it another thought. It was just a spell. And she could avoid Spike-after all, 'out of sight; out of mind', right? Yeah. That'd work. She could avoid Spike until this all blew over and everybody forgot it had ever happened.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy stomped into the dorm after another fruitless patrol. Fruitless as to vamps and demons, that is. She did run into Riley! They'd walked around together, sat and talked, walked around some more, and then she'd come back to her room, 'cause she couldn't kill something in front of Riley, anyway.
Riley. Buffy sighed. He had great arms. The better to hold you with, my dear. And great . . . other parts. The better to- Buffy blushed at the direction in which her thoughts seemed to be heading. She rolled her eyes. Cart before horse much? She and Riley had never even kissed! Which was pretty much her fault, she guessed. Riley was a gentleman, and every time it looked like the situation was heading toward kissage, Buffy balked. She would hurriedly begin talking, jump up and start walking, and other avoidy actions. Willow had been persuaded to share that she'd threatened Riley with grievous bodily harm if he hurt Buffy, and he'd assured Willow he wasn't interested in a . . . booty call. He was perfectly happy to wait for her to make the first move.
Buffy sighed again. Riley was a sweetie. And kind, and gentlemanly, and this waiting for her to make the first move thingy showed that he respected her. And that's what she wanted. It's what she needed, especially after the self-esteem beat down she'd had handed to her by Parker Abrams. But still . . . She couldn't help wondering if maybe Riley just wasn't that interested in her. After all, love isn't brains, children, it's blood . . . blood screaming inside you to work its will. And Riley seemed to be operating via his brain; his blood certainly didn't seem to be screaming with need for her. What if it wasn't enough? What if Riley wasn't enough? What about the fire and the passion? Didn't that matter?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy hadn't realized how perniciously Spike had insinuated himself into her life until she tried to actively avoid him. Okay, she'd managed pretty well the week after the 'betrothal', by actually going to classes and trying to spend as much time as possible with Riley. And she had patrolling and Riley had TA stuff. But then those Fairytale monsters came to town and her brief interlude of Spikelessness was over.
He was at Giles', then he showed up at Xander's when Giles' girlfriend came for a visit, then back at Giles' when they all got together to try and stop The Gentlemen. Buffy wasn't sure if it was seeing Spike so frequently-after her week's reprieve while she practiced the 'out of sight; out of mind' thing-or the heightened other perceptions when they lost their voices, but she and Riley finally kissed! And it was great! It was wonderful. It was everything she'd imagined it would be. Really. Now that she and Riley were finally taking their relationship to the next level, she could completely forget about Spike!
Riley was a good kisser! It wasn't his fault that he had to breathe! The majority of the available dating pool in this world had to breathe. No! Not the majority of the dating pool-the entirety of the pool of potential boyfriends, and why was she even thinking of potential boyfriends when she had an actual boyfriend who was just about perfect for her! The facts that he was a bit too tall, and had to breathe, and really had no conception of what it meant to be the Slayer, even after she'd tried to explain it to him, weren't his fault! And she was so not thinking about what else Spike could do for hours-since he didn't need to breathe! Back to Spike-avoidance. Yep. That would be for the best. For everyone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy felt . . . twitchy. She hadn't seen Riley in days-he was off doing some commando secret ops stuff-and Willow never seemed to be home any more. Buffy had no idea where Willow was spending all her time lately. Since the disastrous My Will Be Done spell went so horribly wrong, maybe Willow was uncomfortable around the rest of them? Note to self: Find out what's up with Willow, Buffy decided. But she couldn't do that until she actually saw Willow.
Buffy sighed. She hadn't seen much of Xander lately, either. Since that Anya had slowly and perniciously insinuated herself into Xander's life, he hardly had any time for his real friends. Well, okay-she'd been pretty tied up with Riley, too, and of course Willow and Xander should have personal lives. She wanted them to be as happy as she was with Riley-just not when she was feeling bored and antsy and wanted to hang. Buffy produced a wry laugh. Self-important much? It's fine for them to have their own lives when you're busy with yours, but the minute you're feeling gretsey or at loose ends, they should drop everything and dance attendance on you. Yeah, right!
Maybe she should go visit her mom. Her friends might be off doing their own things, but there was one person in the world to whom Buffy was the most important part of her life. They could have a girl's night-make popcorn and eat chocolate-chip-fudge-ripple-mint-cookie-dough ice cream and rent a ridiculously sappy chick flick from Blockbuster. Yep. That'd do it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy patrolled through Restview and Rosemont on her way home, but both cemeteries were unnaturally quiet. Generally, that was a good thing, but unfortunately, it presently meant she couldn't even get her blood pumping with a good fight or two to ease her twitchiness.
She popped into Blockbuster and rented Somewhere in Time with Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour, and then cut through the alleys to approach her house from the back. She smiled as she saw her mom sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of . . . something. Buffy vaulted over the back fence without bothering to unhook the gate. As she skirted the large oak, she saw that someone else was sitting at the table across from her mom, but the person was in shadow and she couldn't tell who it was. It was a warm night, and through the open window, she heard Joyce laugh at something the other person had said.
When had she last heard that kind of carefree, youthful laughter from her mom? Not for ages! So much had happened since they moved to Sunnydale. . . .
With visions of killer robots and bespelled candy running through her mind, Buffy crept closer.
Spike!
It was Spike!
Her mother was having a jolly old time drinking cocoa and laughing with Spike!
Buffy felt a disquieting tug of . . . jealousy? Envy? She reached for her stake.
Then she heard Spike . . . giggle? Spike actually giggled at something her mom said. It made him sound impossibly young and very human.
Buffy frowned. Spike couldn't hurt her mom with that chip in his head-even without the chip, he'd never tried to hurt Joyce. Buffy sighed and turned away to trudge back to her lonely dorm room. They both sounded so happy. They sounded like the bestest of friends. Like she and Will and Xander used to sound-before Angel and Oz and Cordy and the heartbreak growing up had brought. She couldn't take that away from Joyce . . . or Spike, for some reason. Everyone needed a friend. Everyone but the Chosen One, who fought alone. Except, she didn't. She had friends. And if they didn't happen to be available for one freakin' night, well . . . she supposed it wouldn't kill her to actually do some studying. Just this once, of course.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy stared in disbelief at the apparition before her. White polyester suit; check. Could you even buy white polyester any more? Black polyester shirt with a long pointy collar and the sleeve cuffs folded back over the suit; check. Top four-count 'em, four-buttons undone to show off a heavy gold chain tangled in a forest of matted chest hair in desperate need of manscaping. Check. And she'd just bet that same unattractive pelt of furry hair covered his back, too.
"Hey! John Travolta wannabe!" she called. "The Days of Disco are dead. I guess you didn't get the memo?"
Buffy promptly dispatched Mr. Stayin' Alive, who was no longer, well, stayin' alive. She giggled.
"Score one for the Fashion Police. Some days I really love my job!"
She was just about to call it a night, when she heard a low growl in the distance, followed by a piercing scream.
Her hand tightened on her stake as she ran toward the sounds.
There were three . . . creatures circling a boy who was sobbing in terror. Buffy kicked the nearest demon in the back, grabbed the boy's hand and snatched him out of the circle. His eyes were glazed, and he didn't seem to be aware of his rescue. Buffy gave him a little shake and then slapped his face.
"Run!" she screamed.
The boy darted a quick look at a shadowed lump lying on the ground. Buffy hadn't noticed the person-shaped lump until she glanced in the direction his eyes had indicated. She drew a deep breath.
"I'll check on your friend-but if you don't want to end up like that, too, run! Now!"
The boy turned and took off running. Buffy faced the three creatures. What the hell were they? They looked kind of like vampires-of The Master variety, minus the fruit punch mouth-but there were three of them, and they didn't appear to have speech. She had to find out if the other kid was still alive. She slowly edged her way toward the person on the ground while trying to keep the three weird-looking vampires-were they vampires, or demons or . . . something else?-in sight.
One lunged at her and she slammed the stake into his chest. Blood-or maybe ichor-trickled from its chest and it definitely didn't dust, so probably not vampires. The other two smelled the blood and turned on their wounded companion. Buffy sprinted toward the kid on the ground. It was a teenaged girl and, from the amount of teeth marks on various parts of her body, she was probably dead. Buffy stopped to look for a pulse, anyway. One look at the girl's eyes as Buffy rolled her over, and Buffy knew for certain. Definitely dead. Which really pissed her off.
The wounded thing had managed to keep its companions from attacking and suddenly, they turned en masse toward Buffy. Since her stake didn't do it, she figured she'd probably need a blade of some kind to kill them, and it would help to know what they were, where they came from, and what they were doing in Sunnydale. She'd check with Giles, and then-when she was better prepared-she'd make them pay for coming to her town and messing with the people she'd sworn to protect.
With a final glance at the girl she hadn't been able to save, she began to run to Giles' house.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy's brow furrowed as she left Giles' apartment. She absently rubbed at the line that formed between her eyebrows and decided to pop into The Espresso Pump for a quick pick-me-up.
Giles seemed to be off his game a little bit. No, not a little bit-a lot. He just wasn't behaving very Gilesy. Usually, he was all Rah, Rah, research! but lately he seemed kind of . . . depressed. He wasn't really cut out for the slacker lifestyle, but since the Council fired him and they blew up the library, he hadn't found anything to really occupy his time. He was just drifting. She guessed part of it was her fault-he'd been all gung ho about researching the commandos and she really thought she had talked to him about Riley and the Initiative, but still . . . Maybe it was a mid-life crisis? Didn't men have them when they were about Giles' age?
In any event, he hadn't seemed very excited about the new whatsit demon-creature-thingy in town. He said he'd look into it, but his tone had been sort of desultory. She could almost hear him going la-la-la.
Maybe she could get Willow to look it up on her laptop? But Willow never seemed to be around much anymore. Who else would know about weird demon species? Maybe Anya? She was an ex-demon, after all. She could stop by Xander's on her way back to the dorm.
~*~*~*~*~*~
For once, Xander and Anya weren't loitering in his basement, and Will wasn't around either. Which was no real surprise. Buffy kicked the trash receptacle that loomed up in front of her with such force it went flying across the Quad. Oops! My bad! she thought, and quickly righted it. She glanced guiltily at the crumpled papers and Styrofoam cups tumbling away in the freshening breeze. She didn't have time to waste chasing after garbage. With a shrug, she hurriedly walked away.
Those . . . things had already killed at least one person, and she needed to stop them as soon as possible. But where could she find out about them? Who in Sunnydale would know about new demons in town?
Oh, bite me! Buffy muttered. Who else but Mr. Out-of-sight-out-of-mind? Of course he'd know-he always seems to know everything going on in the demon world. I'm gonna have to go see Spike, aren't I?
Buffy sighed.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy kicked open the door of Spike's crypt with a crash. Spike jumped up from a ratty brown armchair and reached for a knife. The moonlight glinted on the long curved blade. Buffy raised her fists.
"Oh, it's you," Spike said as he replaced the knife on the packing crate doubling as an end table next to the chair. "Wha'da you want?"
Buffy slowly moved into the crypt, her eyes darting around the large, dark space. How big do they make mausoleums anyway? Why do they even need all this extra space? Buffy wondered. There were two stone sarcophaguses? . . . sarcophagi? near the far wall, and the rest was open space into which Spike had moved a refrigerator, hot plate, TV, armchair-do crypts come with electricity?-and there was a row of small, decorative windowpanes near the top of the wall. A crypt with a view? Who do they expect to need windows? Buffy giggled. That was just silly! But Spike seemed to have more room in this moldy old crypt than Xander did in his parents' basement-and the crypt had a lighter and airier feel. Maybe Xander should- No. Bad idea. But it seems so much bigger on the inside. How did they do that? Buffy resisted the urge to go back out and check the outside dimensions. Back on topic. She lifted herself to the top of one sarcophagus and crossed her legs.
"Information."
"And what's in it for me?"
"I don't beat you up?" Buffy asked brightly.
"Oh, right! Here you are, an uninvited guest in my home, and you start right in with threats of bodily harm? You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar, Missy!"
"And why would I want to catch flies?"
"It's an idiom. Don't they teach you anything in American schools?"
"Well, it takes an idiot to know one, I guess. Besides, isn't that more of a metaphor?"
"What? No. An' I di'nt say 'idiot', I said 'idiom', although it's actually more of an idiomatic proverb-"
"What do you want, Spike?"
Spike's tongue flicked out and touched his upper lip.
"What do I want? Well, let's see . . . a little respect would be nice. A month's supply of blood and smokes and . . . a VCR player, all right? An' not one of those cheap ones, either. I want one with all the bells and whistles."
"You want a VCR player?"
"Well, yeah. Late night telly viewing 'round these parts is bloody boring, innit? T'other night all I could find was a bloody film where everyone was singing in Hindi!"
"Oh! I think I saw that one! There was a telephone and a water buffalo for some reason, right? I didn't get the plot."
Spike raised a single eyebrow.
Buffy sighed. "Okay-it was a pretty bad movie. I suppose you want a membership to Blockbuster, too."
"Wouldn't say 'no' if you're offerin'."
Buffy giggled. "What name do you want it under? I mean, both William the Bloody and Spike. . ." Buffy's voice trailed off as she remembered the last time they'd had this discussion about his name.
Spike's eyes simultaneously softened, and yet became an even more vivid blue. He took a step toward her. Buffy felt a kind of electricity in the air-the kind that occurs right before a violent summer thunderstorm. The air seemed to crackle between them and she felt the fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck rise. Spike tilted his head. His eyes locked onto hers. Buffy held her breath.
This is stupid! She so wasn't going there! She had to do something.
Buffy leapt to her feet and Spike took a half step back.
Buffy roughly rubbed her arms in an attempt to dissipate the static electricity and began to pace. Spike gave his head a quick shake as if he was coming out of a trance.
"Okay," she said, a bit too loudly. She cleared her throat and made a determined effort to modulate her voice. "Done. I need some information about some new demons in town. Three of 'em, at least-and strange demons appearing in groups of three tend to give me a wiggins. What do you know?"
"What do they look like?"
Buffy described the creatures she'd encountered earlier that night.
Spike looked thoughtful. "Hang on! Somethin' 'bout these wankers strikes me as familiar. Let me think a minute. . ."
"I don't have all night, Spike!"
Spike began to pace, his long coat swirling behind him.
Buffy decided that both of them pacing was just silly, so she returned to her seat on the stone sarcophagus.
Spike suddenly stopped dead at the far end of the crypt, deep in shadow. Buffy tensed. He threw open the lid of a chest and then whirled to face her, holding a battle axe. Buffy reached for her stake.
"Right, then. Know I've seen these blokes somewhere before, but I just can't place 'em from your description. Gotta see 'em for m'self. Let's go hunt 'em down!"
"But Spike . . . you can't fight. I mean. . . ." Buffy trailed off and looked at him suspiciously. "You didn't do anything to your chip, did you?" She clutched her stake tighter. "It still works?"
Would he tell me the truth if it didn't?
"See, there's the thing. It works all right-but only on humans. I can hurt a demon!" Spike's voice was full of glee and he seemed to glow with the prospect of impending violence.
Buffy rolled her eyes and relaxed. Spike just wasn't the type to ambush her from behind. If he ever got that chip out and decided to take on the Slayer, he'd want it to be an epic battle-probably with witnesses.
"Come on!" Spike urged, dancing from foot to foot with excitement at the thought of patrolling with Buffy, and hopefully killing something. "I'll walk you to your house. You need somethin' larger and sharper than your pointy stick for these pillocks, I'll wager. An' 'm not lendin' you m' axe!"
~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy and Spike slipped through the kitchen door of the Summers' house. Buffy beckoned him to follow her into the living room. She shifted a small bookcase as quietly as she could, and dragged out a long canvas bag of weapons. She cast a critical eye over the contents and chose a sword.
Spike raised an eyebrow.
"Good god, Summers! That's still got demon goo dried on it, and hasn't been sharpened in months! If Giles didn't teach you to take better care of your weapons than this, 's no wonder the Council fired him!"
"How did you know-never mind. These are just my spare weapons," Buffy hissed. "I keep the good stuff at school."
"Still an' all . . . a bloke can't be seen with the Slayer wielding this. I've got standards, don't I?"
Buffy grinned evilly and held up a bottle of holy water.
"We could try this instead!"
"Hey, now! Put that away. 'm helping, right?"
Spike sat cross-legged on the floor and began to look through the bag.
"Here we are, then!" he exclaimed as he withdrew a can of oil, a soft cloth, and a whetstone. He thoroughly cleaned the sword with the cloth saturated with oil, and then leisurely began to sharpen it.
Buffy fidgeted. She didn't have time for this. She wanted to find the things, kill the things, get rid of Spike-although, unfortunately, not in a dusty way-and get back to her life. Yet, here she was, in her own home, while Spike lectured her on the finer points of weapons maintenance.
"Spike, shut up!" she yelled, and then clapped her hand over her mouth as she heard stirring upstairs.
"Buffy? Is that you?" Joyce called as she came down three steps and peered into the living room, brushing sleep-tangled hair out of her eyes.
"Yeah, mom, it's me. Sorry I disturbed you. Go back to sleep," Buffy replied.
"Oh, hello Spike," Joyce smiled. "I didn't know you were here, too. Would you like a cup of cocoa?"
"With those lit'le marshmallows?"
Buffy rolled her eyes and kicked him in the thigh.
"Ow!" he hissed.
"No cocoa for you! We're on a mission, remember? You're not a guest I invited over for cocoa!"
"No thanks, Joyce," he said. "Can't stay. We're on our way to go kill things."
"Spike!" Buffy was ready to tear out her hair. Or, even better, his hair.
"Oh. Are you still doing that, Buffy? I hoped that you'd have outgrown the killing things now that you're in college."
"It's not something you outgrow, mom. Remember, we talked about it?" Buffy turned to Spike and hissed, "Now look what you've done!"
" 'S'all right, Joyce. I'll watch out for your girl."
"Oh, thank you, Spike. Well, if you two don't need anything, I'll go back to bed."
"You do that, mom."
"Pleasant dreams, Joyce."
Buffy grabbed a fistful of leather and yanked Spike to his feet.
"We are leaving. Now!"
"Right, then." Spike hefted the sword and swished it through the air several times. He gave it one last swipe with the oiled rag, and then tossed it in the air, caught it by the blade and handed it to her hilt first.
"Thanks," Buffy muttered grudgingly.
Spike's smile was dazzling as he started for the back door.
~*~*~*~*~*~
The sky was lightening toward dawn as Buffy wearily led the way to Fern Knoll. The night had been a complete bust. Well, maybe not a complete bust, she amended. She did have a bright, shiny-clean sword and patrolling with Spike was actually kind of . . . fun.
Spike stopped dead and tilted his head.
Buffy sighed in exasperation. She was tired and just wanted to call it a night. She had a class in less than three hours that she really should attend. Buffy shrugged. Oh, what the hell-Willow always took copious notes and could fill her in later.
Spike still hadn't moved. He just stood there with his eyes closed. Maybe he was asleep. Could vampires sleep on their feet . . . like horses? Buffy giggled at the thought.
"Shhhh!" Spike whispered. "Don't you hear it?"
"Hear what?" Buffy asked. She was tired and beginning to feel a little cranky. She strained to listen. If Spike was having her on, she'd-
And then she heard it. It was a wild, kind of beautiful, keening sound. It was similar to the whale songs she'd heard on that program on the Discovery channel. But they were miles from the ocean. What on earth could it-
Spike's face lit up as he grinned at her in triumph.
"Got it!" he said with satisfaction. "I know what we're up against. Dunno what they're called, but I've seen 'em in the sewers of London an' Cardiff. They don't have speech, per se; their physiology doesn't support speech as we'd define it, but they seem to have some level of telepathy t' communicate with each other an' they sing. Like that." Spike pointed in the direction from which the keening was coming. "Beautiful, innit? Dru said they were singin' t' th' stars, wantin' to go home. Dunno if she meant that lit'rally-'s hard to tell with Dru sometimes."
Buffy looked at him in shock. "Do you mean they're aliens? Aliens from outer space?"
Spike laughed. "You should see your face! The girl that fights demons every night without a qualm 's'all bent out of shape by the thought of aliens. 's bloody funny."
"Stop laughing! I'm serious! What the hell are they doing here?"
Spike sobered immediately. "Drawn by the energy of th' Hellmouth, I'll wager."
"But . . . aliens! Can we kill aliens?"
"Don't see why not. They eat people-"
"Ohmigod! Tell me they don't have one eye and one horn, and aren't purple . . ."
"What? No. You've seen 'em. Oh!"
Buffy giggled. "My dad used to sing that to me when I was little. It was a one-eyed, one-horned, flyin' purple-people-eater . . . Okay. Calm now. Eating people isn't funny."
"Too right. But it's bloody convenient t' have those things around. When we got bored with London, Angelus suggested we should go to Cardiff, 'cause they had those creatures there, too, an' since they were already killin' an' eating people, no one would even notice us. . . . Right then. Let's go! 's gettin' light out an' I don't want to miss the fun. Beheadin' should do the trick. Come on! Let's go kill something!"
Finis
Lyrics from Purple People Eater, by Barry Cryer, © 1958
If anyone recognized the group of traveling Weevils who were drawn by the Hellmouth energy, they were borrowed from Torchwood, possibly due to Doctor Who eating my brain this spring. *g*
The wonderful icon I'm using was made by the very talented moscow_watcher.
And here's the CYA request:
Characters/Pairings you want the story to focus on: Buffy, Spike
Characters/Pairings you want in the story too: Anyone else you like - bonus for some Spike and Joyce interaction, though.
Things you want: Something set during S4, post Something Blue, with lots of yummy B/S snark and subtext. Buffy has to use Spike's knowledge of the demon world to solve some mystery or fight the monster of the week. Whether they actually get together is up to you, but the underlying attraction should be there, even if neither of them will admit it.
Things you don't want: Absolutely NO Riley-bashing. No making Spike too good to be true. No pushover Buffy.
Extras: Any rating from G to R (not that I object to them getting groiny, but it's a hard sell at this point in the series - however, if you want to try and sell it, go right ahead.) Either action or humor or a bit of both is fine.
Author: spikeNdru
Written for the cya_ficathon community, Round Six, for rahirah
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Rating: PGish
Timeline: Takes place in BtVS S4, post-Something Blue. This story takes the place of Doomed.
Length: 5290 words
Many thanks to makd for the beta, and to leni_ba for continuing to maintain the Choose Your Author Community.
“But I can't help thinking - isn't that where the fire comes from? Can a nice, safe relationship be that intense? I know it's nuts, but, part of me believes that real love and passion have to go hand in hand with pain and fighting. . . . I wonder where I get that from.”
Tracey Forbes, Something Blue
The sun slanting through her window, shining directly into her eyes, awakened Buffy much earlier than she had planned. She threw her forearm over her eyes to block as much of the light as possible and groaned. Wait. The dorm room that she shared with Willow faced west-a real plus when she’d had a late night slaying and thought blowing off morning classes a really excellent idea. Buffy raised her arm a fraction and peeked out at her surroundings. She was in her own room at home. Huh. She couldn’t remember why.
Oh, crap! Buffy burrowed under the covers and twitched the comforter over her head so that she was cocooned in the bed clothes. She might just stay here forever and never come out. In fact, that sounded like a really good idea! How could she face her friends and Riley-ohmigod, Riley! What could she possibly say to Riley?-after actually believing she was engaged to Spike! She glanced at her left hand in horror-the left hand that still wore a huge, clunky, abysmally ugly ‘engagement’ ring. She ripped it off and flung it across the room, where it bounced off the wall and came to rest in a shaft of sunlight that made it glow as if it were radioactive. And for all she knew, it might be! Buffy moaned and dove under the covers again.
Maybe she could just be sick today. She certainly felt sick! She could stay in bed all day and ask her mom to bring her chicken noodle soup and toast cut into four triangles, just the way she liked it when she was a little girl. Maybe she’d just stay in bed for a week . . . until everything blew over and her friends forgot that she and Spike-Spike!-had been betrothed.
And yet . . . and yet . . . she couldn’t help relive the numerous kisses they’d shared. Spike was a really, really good kisser. Much better than Parker. And if she was completely honest about the whole situation, he was possibly . . . maybe . . . she couldn’t believe she was even thinking this, and why did she feel disloyal when Angel was the one who had left her after all . . . a-better-kisser-than-Angel-although she’d never, ever tell anyone that, and would deny it if necessary!
Ohmigod! What was she thinking? How could she even consider a . . . romantic entanglement with another vampire? Not that that’s what she was doing. And Spike didn’t even have a soul! And, well, all right, he did have a chip that kept him from hurting humans, so . . . No! No, that wasn’t the same thing at all. And yet . . . Spike had always been a kind of . . . honorable vampire. Even when he was evil. Not that he wasn’t evil now-he was just kind of neutered. But he’d always kept his word, even before he was . . . neutered. Bad choice of word. Thinking back to their passionate kisses while she was ensconced in his lap, he definitely wasn’t neutered. Buffy’s mind went to a happy place.
Bad Buffy! How could she be fantasizing about her non-fiancé when she had an actual boyfriend. An actual boyfriend who was tall and smart and handsome and nice and who took her on picnics in the daylight! And, she thought, did I mention tall? Riley was really, really tall-taller even than Angel, by at least the space between two shirt buttons. She knew that for a fact, because her nose came to a button lower on Riley than on Angel. She and Spike, on the other hand, fit together nicely. Her nose came to the hollow right below his collarbone, the perfect spot to snuggle in, and he smelled so good. How could someone who was technically dead smell so good? And it wasn’t the, admittedly sexy, expensive cologne smell that Angel used, either. It was just Spike. Cigarettes and whiskey and leather and dead guy. Put like that, it should have been kind of gross, but for some reason, it really wasn’t. Maybe it had to do with-what were those things called? Oh, yeah-pheromones. Spike had really, really good pheromones. Or whatever.
But that was all over now! The kissing and the engagement and the invitations and the kissing and the cake with the cute little bride and groom on top and the kissing and the wedding plans. . . Over. So over. And it wasn't real! It was just a spell. And, okay, the kissing was real, and really nice, but. . . .
She had to stop thinking like this-thinking about Spike as a potential boyfriend. She already had a boyfriend, and another vampire would just complicate things and she so did not need that! She'd get up and shower, and swing by to see how Giles was doing after the spell-induced blindness, before heading back to the dorm to check on Willow, and they'd all pretend this never happened. Spike probably hadn't given it another thought. It was just a spell. And she could avoid Spike-after all, 'out of sight; out of mind', right? Yeah. That'd work. She could avoid Spike until this all blew over and everybody forgot it had ever happened.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy stomped into the dorm after another fruitless patrol. Fruitless as to vamps and demons, that is. She did run into Riley! They'd walked around together, sat and talked, walked around some more, and then she'd come back to her room, 'cause she couldn't kill something in front of Riley, anyway.
Riley. Buffy sighed. He had great arms. The better to hold you with, my dear. And great . . . other parts. The better to- Buffy blushed at the direction in which her thoughts seemed to be heading. She rolled her eyes. Cart before horse much? She and Riley had never even kissed! Which was pretty much her fault, she guessed. Riley was a gentleman, and every time it looked like the situation was heading toward kissage, Buffy balked. She would hurriedly begin talking, jump up and start walking, and other avoidy actions. Willow had been persuaded to share that she'd threatened Riley with grievous bodily harm if he hurt Buffy, and he'd assured Willow he wasn't interested in a . . . booty call. He was perfectly happy to wait for her to make the first move.
Buffy sighed again. Riley was a sweetie. And kind, and gentlemanly, and this waiting for her to make the first move thingy showed that he respected her. And that's what she wanted. It's what she needed, especially after the self-esteem beat down she'd had handed to her by Parker Abrams. But still . . . She couldn't help wondering if maybe Riley just wasn't that interested in her. After all, love isn't brains, children, it's blood . . . blood screaming inside you to work its will. And Riley seemed to be operating via his brain; his blood certainly didn't seem to be screaming with need for her. What if it wasn't enough? What if Riley wasn't enough? What about the fire and the passion? Didn't that matter?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy hadn't realized how perniciously Spike had insinuated himself into her life until she tried to actively avoid him. Okay, she'd managed pretty well the week after the 'betrothal', by actually going to classes and trying to spend as much time as possible with Riley. And she had patrolling and Riley had TA stuff. But then those Fairytale monsters came to town and her brief interlude of Spikelessness was over.
He was at Giles', then he showed up at Xander's when Giles' girlfriend came for a visit, then back at Giles' when they all got together to try and stop The Gentlemen. Buffy wasn't sure if it was seeing Spike so frequently-after her week's reprieve while she practiced the 'out of sight; out of mind' thing-or the heightened other perceptions when they lost their voices, but she and Riley finally kissed! And it was great! It was wonderful. It was everything she'd imagined it would be. Really. Now that she and Riley were finally taking their relationship to the next level, she could completely forget about Spike!
Riley was a good kisser! It wasn't his fault that he had to breathe! The majority of the available dating pool in this world had to breathe. No! Not the majority of the dating pool-the entirety of the pool of potential boyfriends, and why was she even thinking of potential boyfriends when she had an actual boyfriend who was just about perfect for her! The facts that he was a bit too tall, and had to breathe, and really had no conception of what it meant to be the Slayer, even after she'd tried to explain it to him, weren't his fault! And she was so not thinking about what else Spike could do for hours-since he didn't need to breathe! Back to Spike-avoidance. Yep. That would be for the best. For everyone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy felt . . . twitchy. She hadn't seen Riley in days-he was off doing some commando secret ops stuff-and Willow never seemed to be home any more. Buffy had no idea where Willow was spending all her time lately. Since the disastrous My Will Be Done spell went so horribly wrong, maybe Willow was uncomfortable around the rest of them? Note to self: Find out what's up with Willow, Buffy decided. But she couldn't do that until she actually saw Willow.
Buffy sighed. She hadn't seen much of Xander lately, either. Since that Anya had slowly and perniciously insinuated herself into Xander's life, he hardly had any time for his real friends. Well, okay-she'd been pretty tied up with Riley, too, and of course Willow and Xander should have personal lives. She wanted them to be as happy as she was with Riley-just not when she was feeling bored and antsy and wanted to hang. Buffy produced a wry laugh. Self-important much? It's fine for them to have their own lives when you're busy with yours, but the minute you're feeling gretsey or at loose ends, they should drop everything and dance attendance on you. Yeah, right!
Maybe she should go visit her mom. Her friends might be off doing their own things, but there was one person in the world to whom Buffy was the most important part of her life. They could have a girl's night-make popcorn and eat chocolate-chip-fudge-ripple-mint-cookie-dough ice cream and rent a ridiculously sappy chick flick from Blockbuster. Yep. That'd do it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy patrolled through Restview and Rosemont on her way home, but both cemeteries were unnaturally quiet. Generally, that was a good thing, but unfortunately, it presently meant she couldn't even get her blood pumping with a good fight or two to ease her twitchiness.
She popped into Blockbuster and rented Somewhere in Time with Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour, and then cut through the alleys to approach her house from the back. She smiled as she saw her mom sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of . . . something. Buffy vaulted over the back fence without bothering to unhook the gate. As she skirted the large oak, she saw that someone else was sitting at the table across from her mom, but the person was in shadow and she couldn't tell who it was. It was a warm night, and through the open window, she heard Joyce laugh at something the other person had said.
When had she last heard that kind of carefree, youthful laughter from her mom? Not for ages! So much had happened since they moved to Sunnydale. . . .
With visions of killer robots and bespelled candy running through her mind, Buffy crept closer.
Spike!
It was Spike!
Her mother was having a jolly old time drinking cocoa and laughing with Spike!
Buffy felt a disquieting tug of . . . jealousy? Envy? She reached for her stake.
Then she heard Spike . . . giggle? Spike actually giggled at something her mom said. It made him sound impossibly young and very human.
Buffy frowned. Spike couldn't hurt her mom with that chip in his head-even without the chip, he'd never tried to hurt Joyce. Buffy sighed and turned away to trudge back to her lonely dorm room. They both sounded so happy. They sounded like the bestest of friends. Like she and Will and Xander used to sound-before Angel and Oz and Cordy and the heartbreak growing up had brought. She couldn't take that away from Joyce . . . or Spike, for some reason. Everyone needed a friend. Everyone but the Chosen One, who fought alone. Except, she didn't. She had friends. And if they didn't happen to be available for one freakin' night, well . . . she supposed it wouldn't kill her to actually do some studying. Just this once, of course.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy stared in disbelief at the apparition before her. White polyester suit; check. Could you even buy white polyester any more? Black polyester shirt with a long pointy collar and the sleeve cuffs folded back over the suit; check. Top four-count 'em, four-buttons undone to show off a heavy gold chain tangled in a forest of matted chest hair in desperate need of manscaping. Check. And she'd just bet that same unattractive pelt of furry hair covered his back, too.
"Hey! John Travolta wannabe!" she called. "The Days of Disco are dead. I guess you didn't get the memo?"
Buffy promptly dispatched Mr. Stayin' Alive, who was no longer, well, stayin' alive. She giggled.
"Score one for the Fashion Police. Some days I really love my job!"
She was just about to call it a night, when she heard a low growl in the distance, followed by a piercing scream.
Her hand tightened on her stake as she ran toward the sounds.
There were three . . . creatures circling a boy who was sobbing in terror. Buffy kicked the nearest demon in the back, grabbed the boy's hand and snatched him out of the circle. His eyes were glazed, and he didn't seem to be aware of his rescue. Buffy gave him a little shake and then slapped his face.
"Run!" she screamed.
The boy darted a quick look at a shadowed lump lying on the ground. Buffy hadn't noticed the person-shaped lump until she glanced in the direction his eyes had indicated. She drew a deep breath.
"I'll check on your friend-but if you don't want to end up like that, too, run! Now!"
The boy turned and took off running. Buffy faced the three creatures. What the hell were they? They looked kind of like vampires-of The Master variety, minus the fruit punch mouth-but there were three of them, and they didn't appear to have speech. She had to find out if the other kid was still alive. She slowly edged her way toward the person on the ground while trying to keep the three weird-looking vampires-were they vampires, or demons or . . . something else?-in sight.
One lunged at her and she slammed the stake into his chest. Blood-or maybe ichor-trickled from its chest and it definitely didn't dust, so probably not vampires. The other two smelled the blood and turned on their wounded companion. Buffy sprinted toward the kid on the ground. It was a teenaged girl and, from the amount of teeth marks on various parts of her body, she was probably dead. Buffy stopped to look for a pulse, anyway. One look at the girl's eyes as Buffy rolled her over, and Buffy knew for certain. Definitely dead. Which really pissed her off.
The wounded thing had managed to keep its companions from attacking and suddenly, they turned en masse toward Buffy. Since her stake didn't do it, she figured she'd probably need a blade of some kind to kill them, and it would help to know what they were, where they came from, and what they were doing in Sunnydale. She'd check with Giles, and then-when she was better prepared-she'd make them pay for coming to her town and messing with the people she'd sworn to protect.
With a final glance at the girl she hadn't been able to save, she began to run to Giles' house.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy's brow furrowed as she left Giles' apartment. She absently rubbed at the line that formed between her eyebrows and decided to pop into The Espresso Pump for a quick pick-me-up.
Giles seemed to be off his game a little bit. No, not a little bit-a lot. He just wasn't behaving very Gilesy. Usually, he was all Rah, Rah, research! but lately he seemed kind of . . . depressed. He wasn't really cut out for the slacker lifestyle, but since the Council fired him and they blew up the library, he hadn't found anything to really occupy his time. He was just drifting. She guessed part of it was her fault-he'd been all gung ho about researching the commandos and she really thought she had talked to him about Riley and the Initiative, but still . . . Maybe it was a mid-life crisis? Didn't men have them when they were about Giles' age?
In any event, he hadn't seemed very excited about the new whatsit demon-creature-thingy in town. He said he'd look into it, but his tone had been sort of desultory. She could almost hear him going la-la-la.
Maybe she could get Willow to look it up on her laptop? But Willow never seemed to be around much anymore. Who else would know about weird demon species? Maybe Anya? She was an ex-demon, after all. She could stop by Xander's on her way back to the dorm.
~*~*~*~*~*~
For once, Xander and Anya weren't loitering in his basement, and Will wasn't around either. Which was no real surprise. Buffy kicked the trash receptacle that loomed up in front of her with such force it went flying across the Quad. Oops! My bad! she thought, and quickly righted it. She glanced guiltily at the crumpled papers and Styrofoam cups tumbling away in the freshening breeze. She didn't have time to waste chasing after garbage. With a shrug, she hurriedly walked away.
Those . . . things had already killed at least one person, and she needed to stop them as soon as possible. But where could she find out about them? Who in Sunnydale would know about new demons in town?
Oh, bite me! Buffy muttered. Who else but Mr. Out-of-sight-out-of-mind? Of course he'd know-he always seems to know everything going on in the demon world. I'm gonna have to go see Spike, aren't I?
Buffy sighed.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy kicked open the door of Spike's crypt with a crash. Spike jumped up from a ratty brown armchair and reached for a knife. The moonlight glinted on the long curved blade. Buffy raised her fists.
"Oh, it's you," Spike said as he replaced the knife on the packing crate doubling as an end table next to the chair. "Wha'da you want?"
Buffy slowly moved into the crypt, her eyes darting around the large, dark space. How big do they make mausoleums anyway? Why do they even need all this extra space? Buffy wondered. There were two stone sarcophaguses? . . . sarcophagi? near the far wall, and the rest was open space into which Spike had moved a refrigerator, hot plate, TV, armchair-do crypts come with electricity?-and there was a row of small, decorative windowpanes near the top of the wall. A crypt with a view? Who do they expect to need windows? Buffy giggled. That was just silly! But Spike seemed to have more room in this moldy old crypt than Xander did in his parents' basement-and the crypt had a lighter and airier feel. Maybe Xander should- No. Bad idea. But it seems so much bigger on the inside. How did they do that? Buffy resisted the urge to go back out and check the outside dimensions. Back on topic. She lifted herself to the top of one sarcophagus and crossed her legs.
"Information."
"And what's in it for me?"
"I don't beat you up?" Buffy asked brightly.
"Oh, right! Here you are, an uninvited guest in my home, and you start right in with threats of bodily harm? You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar, Missy!"
"And why would I want to catch flies?"
"It's an idiom. Don't they teach you anything in American schools?"
"Well, it takes an idiot to know one, I guess. Besides, isn't that more of a metaphor?"
"What? No. An' I di'nt say 'idiot', I said 'idiom', although it's actually more of an idiomatic proverb-"
"What do you want, Spike?"
Spike's tongue flicked out and touched his upper lip.
"What do I want? Well, let's see . . . a little respect would be nice. A month's supply of blood and smokes and . . . a VCR player, all right? An' not one of those cheap ones, either. I want one with all the bells and whistles."
"You want a VCR player?"
"Well, yeah. Late night telly viewing 'round these parts is bloody boring, innit? T'other night all I could find was a bloody film where everyone was singing in Hindi!"
"Oh! I think I saw that one! There was a telephone and a water buffalo for some reason, right? I didn't get the plot."
Spike raised a single eyebrow.
Buffy sighed. "Okay-it was a pretty bad movie. I suppose you want a membership to Blockbuster, too."
"Wouldn't say 'no' if you're offerin'."
Buffy giggled. "What name do you want it under? I mean, both William the Bloody and Spike. . ." Buffy's voice trailed off as she remembered the last time they'd had this discussion about his name.
Spike's eyes simultaneously softened, and yet became an even more vivid blue. He took a step toward her. Buffy felt a kind of electricity in the air-the kind that occurs right before a violent summer thunderstorm. The air seemed to crackle between them and she felt the fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck rise. Spike tilted his head. His eyes locked onto hers. Buffy held her breath.
This is stupid! She so wasn't going there! She had to do something.
Buffy leapt to her feet and Spike took a half step back.
Buffy roughly rubbed her arms in an attempt to dissipate the static electricity and began to pace. Spike gave his head a quick shake as if he was coming out of a trance.
"Okay," she said, a bit too loudly. She cleared her throat and made a determined effort to modulate her voice. "Done. I need some information about some new demons in town. Three of 'em, at least-and strange demons appearing in groups of three tend to give me a wiggins. What do you know?"
"What do they look like?"
Buffy described the creatures she'd encountered earlier that night.
Spike looked thoughtful. "Hang on! Somethin' 'bout these wankers strikes me as familiar. Let me think a minute. . ."
"I don't have all night, Spike!"
Spike began to pace, his long coat swirling behind him.
Buffy decided that both of them pacing was just silly, so she returned to her seat on the stone sarcophagus.
Spike suddenly stopped dead at the far end of the crypt, deep in shadow. Buffy tensed. He threw open the lid of a chest and then whirled to face her, holding a battle axe. Buffy reached for her stake.
"Right, then. Know I've seen these blokes somewhere before, but I just can't place 'em from your description. Gotta see 'em for m'self. Let's go hunt 'em down!"
"But Spike . . . you can't fight. I mean. . . ." Buffy trailed off and looked at him suspiciously. "You didn't do anything to your chip, did you?" She clutched her stake tighter. "It still works?"
Would he tell me the truth if it didn't?
"See, there's the thing. It works all right-but only on humans. I can hurt a demon!" Spike's voice was full of glee and he seemed to glow with the prospect of impending violence.
Buffy rolled her eyes and relaxed. Spike just wasn't the type to ambush her from behind. If he ever got that chip out and decided to take on the Slayer, he'd want it to be an epic battle-probably with witnesses.
"Come on!" Spike urged, dancing from foot to foot with excitement at the thought of patrolling with Buffy, and hopefully killing something. "I'll walk you to your house. You need somethin' larger and sharper than your pointy stick for these pillocks, I'll wager. An' 'm not lendin' you m' axe!"
~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy and Spike slipped through the kitchen door of the Summers' house. Buffy beckoned him to follow her into the living room. She shifted a small bookcase as quietly as she could, and dragged out a long canvas bag of weapons. She cast a critical eye over the contents and chose a sword.
Spike raised an eyebrow.
"Good god, Summers! That's still got demon goo dried on it, and hasn't been sharpened in months! If Giles didn't teach you to take better care of your weapons than this, 's no wonder the Council fired him!"
"How did you know-never mind. These are just my spare weapons," Buffy hissed. "I keep the good stuff at school."
"Still an' all . . . a bloke can't be seen with the Slayer wielding this. I've got standards, don't I?"
Buffy grinned evilly and held up a bottle of holy water.
"We could try this instead!"
"Hey, now! Put that away. 'm helping, right?"
Spike sat cross-legged on the floor and began to look through the bag.
"Here we are, then!" he exclaimed as he withdrew a can of oil, a soft cloth, and a whetstone. He thoroughly cleaned the sword with the cloth saturated with oil, and then leisurely began to sharpen it.
Buffy fidgeted. She didn't have time for this. She wanted to find the things, kill the things, get rid of Spike-although, unfortunately, not in a dusty way-and get back to her life. Yet, here she was, in her own home, while Spike lectured her on the finer points of weapons maintenance.
"Spike, shut up!" she yelled, and then clapped her hand over her mouth as she heard stirring upstairs.
"Buffy? Is that you?" Joyce called as she came down three steps and peered into the living room, brushing sleep-tangled hair out of her eyes.
"Yeah, mom, it's me. Sorry I disturbed you. Go back to sleep," Buffy replied.
"Oh, hello Spike," Joyce smiled. "I didn't know you were here, too. Would you like a cup of cocoa?"
"With those lit'le marshmallows?"
Buffy rolled her eyes and kicked him in the thigh.
"Ow!" he hissed.
"No cocoa for you! We're on a mission, remember? You're not a guest I invited over for cocoa!"
"No thanks, Joyce," he said. "Can't stay. We're on our way to go kill things."
"Spike!" Buffy was ready to tear out her hair. Or, even better, his hair.
"Oh. Are you still doing that, Buffy? I hoped that you'd have outgrown the killing things now that you're in college."
"It's not something you outgrow, mom. Remember, we talked about it?" Buffy turned to Spike and hissed, "Now look what you've done!"
" 'S'all right, Joyce. I'll watch out for your girl."
"Oh, thank you, Spike. Well, if you two don't need anything, I'll go back to bed."
"You do that, mom."
"Pleasant dreams, Joyce."
Buffy grabbed a fistful of leather and yanked Spike to his feet.
"We are leaving. Now!"
"Right, then." Spike hefted the sword and swished it through the air several times. He gave it one last swipe with the oiled rag, and then tossed it in the air, caught it by the blade and handed it to her hilt first.
"Thanks," Buffy muttered grudgingly.
Spike's smile was dazzling as he started for the back door.
~*~*~*~*~*~
The sky was lightening toward dawn as Buffy wearily led the way to Fern Knoll. The night had been a complete bust. Well, maybe not a complete bust, she amended. She did have a bright, shiny-clean sword and patrolling with Spike was actually kind of . . . fun.
Spike stopped dead and tilted his head.
Buffy sighed in exasperation. She was tired and just wanted to call it a night. She had a class in less than three hours that she really should attend. Buffy shrugged. Oh, what the hell-Willow always took copious notes and could fill her in later.
Spike still hadn't moved. He just stood there with his eyes closed. Maybe he was asleep. Could vampires sleep on their feet . . . like horses? Buffy giggled at the thought.
"Shhhh!" Spike whispered. "Don't you hear it?"
"Hear what?" Buffy asked. She was tired and beginning to feel a little cranky. She strained to listen. If Spike was having her on, she'd-
And then she heard it. It was a wild, kind of beautiful, keening sound. It was similar to the whale songs she'd heard on that program on the Discovery channel. But they were miles from the ocean. What on earth could it-
Spike's face lit up as he grinned at her in triumph.
"Got it!" he said with satisfaction. "I know what we're up against. Dunno what they're called, but I've seen 'em in the sewers of London an' Cardiff. They don't have speech, per se; their physiology doesn't support speech as we'd define it, but they seem to have some level of telepathy t' communicate with each other an' they sing. Like that." Spike pointed in the direction from which the keening was coming. "Beautiful, innit? Dru said they were singin' t' th' stars, wantin' to go home. Dunno if she meant that lit'rally-'s hard to tell with Dru sometimes."
Buffy looked at him in shock. "Do you mean they're aliens? Aliens from outer space?"
Spike laughed. "You should see your face! The girl that fights demons every night without a qualm 's'all bent out of shape by the thought of aliens. 's bloody funny."
"Stop laughing! I'm serious! What the hell are they doing here?"
Spike sobered immediately. "Drawn by the energy of th' Hellmouth, I'll wager."
"But . . . aliens! Can we kill aliens?"
"Don't see why not. They eat people-"
"Ohmigod! Tell me they don't have one eye and one horn, and aren't purple . . ."
"What? No. You've seen 'em. Oh!"
Buffy giggled. "My dad used to sing that to me when I was little. It was a one-eyed, one-horned, flyin' purple-people-eater . . . Okay. Calm now. Eating people isn't funny."
"Too right. But it's bloody convenient t' have those things around. When we got bored with London, Angelus suggested we should go to Cardiff, 'cause they had those creatures there, too, an' since they were already killin' an' eating people, no one would even notice us. . . . Right then. Let's go! 's gettin' light out an' I don't want to miss the fun. Beheadin' should do the trick. Come on! Let's go kill something!"
Finis
Lyrics from Purple People Eater, by Barry Cryer, © 1958
If anyone recognized the group of traveling Weevils who were drawn by the Hellmouth energy, they were borrowed from Torchwood, possibly due to Doctor Who eating my brain this spring. *g*
The wonderful icon I'm using was made by the very talented moscow_watcher.
And here's the CYA request:
Characters/Pairings you want the story to focus on: Buffy, Spike
Characters/Pairings you want in the story too: Anyone else you like - bonus for some Spike and Joyce interaction, though.
Things you want: Something set during S4, post Something Blue, with lots of yummy B/S snark and subtext. Buffy has to use Spike's knowledge of the demon world to solve some mystery or fight the monster of the week. Whether they actually get together is up to you, but the underlying attraction should be there, even if neither of them will admit it.
Things you don't want: Absolutely NO Riley-bashing. No making Spike too good to be true. No pushover Buffy.
Extras: Any rating from G to R (not that I object to them getting groiny, but it's a hard sell at this point in the series - however, if you want to try and sell it, go right ahead.) Either action or humor or a bit of both is fine.