Old BtVS Fics, Part 3
Sep. 26th, 2022 08:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apachefirecatFaith's Curse, posted 5-31-13, rated T/PG-13
Characters: Faith+/Buffy
Faith's curse is what she'll never forget.
The slaying, the killing, the drinking, the screwing . . . She indulged in it all so thoroughly for one simple purpose: It was all supposed to help her forget, and yet nothing did any longer. She dreamt not of blood but of her every day, and every night, no matter how much beer she guzzled or how much blood she spilled, Faith could still see her pretty, little face smirking at her.
The rogue Slayer was cursed not because she'd spilled innocent blood or because she'd gone wicked. It wasn't those she'd murdered who she couldn't forget. No, one body was just as good as the next. It was her. It was all her. It'd always been her. She'd never be as good as Buffy, or good enough for her, and that burned her like nothing else.
The End
Faith's Reality, posted 1-21-13, posted T/PG-13
Characters: Faith/Buffy
Reality's a bitch.
Buffy thinks she's the coolest and best Vampire Slayer to ever wield a stake and try to kick ass. It's one of the many things that aggravate Faith about her to no end, but she doesn't bother to tell her that she's cooler. It should be obvious to anybody with half a brain that Faith's tougher, meaner, and more bad ass than the blonde Slayer will ever be. All these attributes and more automatically make Faith the best, and cooler, Slayer, but coolness doesn't matter to her. She is what she is, and cool just happens to be a part of her package.
She's tired of hearing Buffy prattle on about how good she is, how many Vampires she's staked, and how often she's made sacrifices to save the world. She's tired of hearing the blonde speak and wishes she could ram her stake down her throat, but it isn't simply because of how proud Buffy is or how she thinks she's so cool. That adds to Faith's frustration with her, but it's only a small amount of why she's always so quick to bite Buffy's head off verbally and remind her that she isn't as cool as she thinks she is.
Buffy also thinks she's the first Slayer to have friends, to have a support group. Faith knows better, even if the Council doesn't. She knows the Council wouldn't approve of Buffy's little "Scooby Gang" any more than they would have approved of the other Slayer who had a support group, who had friends and family laying their lives on the line with her every night, and or of her methods. Faith doesn't approve of her methods any more, either, which is a kick in ass, because they were her methods.
She's the older Slayer. She's the one who was called, and killed, before Buffy, allowing for the blonde to be called and Kendra later to be added to the long list of women to die slaying for a world that's too stupid to open its eyes to the blood suckers that prey upon it. She doesn't know if she's the first Slayer to have friends and family who supported and helped her in battle, but she does believe she's the first one to get her Watcher killed, and her mother, and the few friends with whom she grew up.
She hears their voices every day. She remembers all that her Watcher tried to teach her with each Vampire she stakes. She hears her voice in her head telling her when to move, how to act and react, and when to drive the stake home. She sees her mother's face in the mirror every time she dares to look in it. And every moment of every day and night, Faith remembers.
She remembers what it was like to be loved. She remembers what it was like to be trusted and cared for, to have people who loved her so much that they refused to live her alone and let her fight her own battles. She remembers believing she'd never be alone, and she remembers watching every one of them who loved her, and who she loved, be killed until at last, when it was just her, her father, and her "little sister" left, Faith broke and ran.
She's still running to this day. She keeps a check on them. She slinks back home from time to time just to make sure they're still breathing. She'll always watch over them as best she can from a distance, but the way she can help them best now, she knows, after being coated with the blood of so many she's loved, is to stay away from them and not let the creatures of the night know what they mean to her, to say she has no one when she knows they'd both still lay down their lives for her, to pretend to be, and want to be, all alone.
That's the true reason why she's so angry with Buffy: Buffy has all that she once had, and so far, she's managed to keep it. She's still got her mother, her Watcher, and her friends. She's precariously balancing a life slaying and going to school, something Faith quit within the first month of becoming a Vampire Slayer to study full time with her Watcher, who also was supposed to teach her family and friends, after they discovered what she was doing, how to protect themselves.
She was supposed to teach them how to stay safe from the Vampires and other monsters Faith fights. She tried to. Faith guesses she didn't do a good enough job of teaching them how to protect themselves. She should have forced them away from her. She should have made sure they wouldn't become targets because of Faith. She should have taken Faith out of their lives, or them out of her life. If she had, they'd still be alive.
If she'd done her job properly, as she's heard Giles refer to the duty he knows he should fulfill of separating Buffy and the others, her mother wouldn't have been killed, her head dropped into her lap. Her friends wouldn't have been slaughtered. Her first lover would never have been turned.
Yes, Faith guesses her Watcher didn't do a good enough job. She should be angry with her for allowing her family and friends to put their lives on the line when it wasn't their place, when they weren't the ones called to be Slayers, but she can't be angry with her even if she should be.
She can't be angry with her, because Faith knows why her friends and family were slaughtered. She knows the reason their blood was spilled, why she was covered in it. They were killed because of her. They were killed, because they couldn't stop loving, and in so doing, trying to protect her. They were killed, because Faith couldn't say "no" or separate herself from them.
They were killed for the same reason Buffy's friends will one day be killed one by one. She'll see them all fall, just as Faith did. Her jokes will stop then. Her pride will crumble, just like Faith's did. She'll finally know she's not the biggest, baddest thing to wield a stake, that she's no better than any other Slayer who's come before or will come after her. Her mouth will shut. She'll withdraw within herself.
That should make Faith happy. She'd still love to shove her stake down her throat to shut the babbling blonde up, but she doesn't want anybody else to suffer like she has, not really. She doesn't want anybody else to know the pain, heartache, and grief that comes with losing every one you've ever loved and who's loved you. She doesn't want to share her pain. She just wants Buffy to shut the Hell up and leave her the Hell alone, like the rest of the world finally has, but she knows, regrettably, she won't do it until the dark days hit again.
The End
Fantasies Are Made, posted 8-17-13, rated M/R
Characters: Ensemble
"That," Anya exclaimed, "is what fantasies are made of!"
"How on Earth did I ever let you talk me into this?" Giles asked, squirming in his tweed boxers and cotton socks.
"I never should've played." A naked Xander shook his head woefully. "I know I don't know a thing about chess."
"You don't know anything about fighting, either," Spike retorted, "but lack of knowledge's never stopped you, Zeppo."
Xander cringed. "I'm never going to live any of this down." Spike grinned.
Giles yelped when his door opened. Willow squealed, covered her eyes, but peeked. "That," Anya stated, grinning broadly, "is what fantasies are made of!"
"Euuw!" Buffy exclaimed but snuck another look.
The End
For His Dawnie, posted 6-22-13, rated K/G
Characters: Spike+/Dawn
Spike takes Dawn out to dinner.
He sat and watched her eat, his chin resting amiably upon the palm of his pale hand. He watched and sat in silence as she ate her plate, then went back to the bar, and returned with a second plate first and then a third. Their waitress came to fill her drink; he waved her away when she turned to him. Realizing how much she'd eaten while he waited patiently, Dawn lowered her eyes and blushed. Spike just smiled and waved their waitress back. He finally ordered a bag of pork to go, but that, too, was for his Dawnie.
The End
For Jenny, posted 8-4-13, rated K+/PG
Characters: Giles/Jenny
He would do anything to have her back.
His mind still goes south whenever he thinks of her. For most men, that would mean their groin area, but for Rupert Giles, it means plummeting, along with his heart, throughout his body and straight to Hell. He can not think of her without his eyes misting. He can not hear her name spoken without wanting to scream in agony and grief. He'd do anything to hold her again, anything to take back what has happened, what happened to her because of him, but he can not. What he can do he will, and that is to never love again.
The End
For Love of Innocence, posted 7-18-06, rated M/R
Characters: Spike, Dawn
When Dawn is attacked, will it be Buffy who comes to her rescue or someone else?
He walked in silence, the long tails of his black leather trench coat flapping around his legs. The spark of fire in his cigarette was the only light in that long, dark night, and the silence was almost deafening. He wondered where the others were and why every one seemed to be holed up for the night when a blast of howling wind nearly knocked him off of his own two feet. The wind brought with it remembrance, and his black lips pulled back in a smirk. Stupid humans, he thought. They run around every night, ignoring the dangers of the Hellmouth, but let a little hurricane even so much as think about coming to shore, and they all run and hide in their homes like mice in their holes.
He took another puff of his cigarette and paused as he heard a soft rustling behind him. His pace slowed as he continued to smoke. A figure leapt from the bushes that lined the walkway, but he whirled around to meet his attacker. He easily blocked his opponent, then released his cigarette to fall towards the ground as he snatched a stake from an inner pocket in his trench. "Next time you try sneakin' up on a bloke, ya might want to check an' see if he's one of your own kind first," he suggested coldly even as the stake drove home. As the other Vampire's dust rained down upon him, he shrugged, returned the stake to his pocket, and snatched his cigarette up just before it could hit the ground. "Make that if you have a chance to try it again," he amended to the empty air before turning and continuing along his lonely path.
He had not gone more than five feet forward when a soft crying met his ears, bringing him to an abrupt but immediate stop. His eyes narrowed as he listened to the pitiful, heartbroken wails. He knew that voice . . . but . . . who? The crying broke with a loud sob that sent the Vampire turning and racing through bushes and trees. Heedless of everything else around him, he ran toward that voice as if the cries endangered his own afterlife. He burst through another row of bushes and came to a screeching halt almost at the edge of the park. His dark eyes shifted instantly to the crier. Though the night was no longer even lit by his forgotten cigarette, he could see her clearly, . . . and his heart broke at the sight.
She lay in a heap on the ground, her clothes mere shreds that she clung desperately to her bruised and battered body. Tears ran down her once-beautiful face that was now marred with dirt, ugly bruises, and her own blood. Tortured sobs continued to escape her cut lips. He had thought she had not even heard his approach, but then she spoke, her words causing him to ache even more for her. "Go ahead," she broke out in a whisper, her sobs suddenly ceasing though her tears continued to flow unchecked. "Do it. Bite me. Kill me. Whatever. I don't care."
"Never, Dawn," he managed to speak as he walked slowly, as if struggling to make it to her side through a thick haze of mist that was his own disbelief at the sight before him.
"Spike?" she whimpered, looking up at him through two black eyes.
He did not speak one single word more until he had reached her side and knelt before her. "Dawn," he started to say, his deep concern clear in his dark eyes and handsome face, only to have his words freeze in his throat as she collapsed into his arms. He fell silent as he gathered her close to him, his arms wrapping around her body. Her head pressed into his shoulder as she continued to cry; his leaned softly into her long hair as he closed his eyes, stilling the fury that boiled within him as well as he was able.
As he held her, gently rocking her fragile body, varied smells swirled around Spike's nostrils. He could smell what she had had to eat that day for lunch and even breakfast; the various scents of things and people that she had been around that day at school; the lingering aromas of Buffy and the Summers household; and, of course, her honey almond shampoo. Despite his concern for her, Spike still had to struggle to rein in his natural Vampiric instincts to drink her delicious blood that assailed his nostrils, but it was the two other putrid scents that the air around her was fouled with that caused his eyes to flash and his fangs to bare in a savage, furious growl that she either did not hear or simply chose to ignore.
A cold dread of expectation had settled over his dead heart the very second he had found Dawn in her current condition, but the smells that his nose could no longer ignore told him that he had indeed been right. No one should have done to them what had happened to her, but Dawn - beautiful, innocent Dawn was the absolute last being on the face of the planet that deserved to be desecrated in such a horrid manner. Hidden behind Dawn's back, Spike's fists clenched and unclenched, his black nails biting into his palms as he longed desperately to close his hands around the throat of the heartless bastard who had done this to her.
Spike's fury had built until he could scarcely control it for even one second longer when he suddenly heard a furious voice behind him. "SPIKE!" the Slayer yelled, her blue eyes flashing. "GET OFF OF MY SISTER!"
The Slayer started to run toward them, stake in hand, when Dawn's weak voice stopped her dead in her tracks. "It wasn't him," she whimpered, looking up at her older sister as the moon unexpectedly slid from behind a heavy cloud.
The moonbeams caught Dawn's face in their silvery light, and the Slayer gasped aloud. "Dawnie?" Her fingers released the forgotten stake as she walked, partially stumbling as she could not tear her eyes away from her viciously bruised face, toward her baby sister. "Wh-What happened?" she whispered, her voice so small that one would have thought that she had been the one attacked.
As Buffy knelt beside Spike, Spike released Dawn to let her turn into her sister's arms. "I . . . I . . . It . . . It was . . . aw . . . awful . . . I . . . It . . . " Dawn cried helplessly against her sister's chest.
"It's okay, Dawn. It's going to be okay," Buffy repeated as she lovingly stroked Dawn's hair. Her blue eyes rose to where Spike had stood upon giving Dawn to her, but he was no longer there. The Slayer's eyes whipped around the area, but the Vampire was long gone.
It was the next night before Spike was finally able to locate the man whose scent had been all over Dawn. When he did, he was walking home with his arm swung around the slender shoulders of a long-legged blonde. Their heads were pressed together as they laughed and talked merrily, his eyes dancing as if nothing had happened the night before. Despite the wait, Spike's fury had not lessened in the least, and when he saw the happy look on the man's face, his fury grew even more.
When the couple reached the entrance to the alley way where Spike had hidden in waiting, he stepped out in front of them, his game face already on. The woman screamed as the man cursed. Spike's yellow eyes shifted to the woman, and her face paled in horror. He growled, and she turned around and ran, screaming, into the night. His full attention then shifted back to the man. The man's mouth opened to speak, but before he could get even so much as one syllable out, Spike was upon him. He snatched him up by the open sides of his leather jacket and slammed him into the nearby brick wall. "DAWN SUMMERS!" he roared, his fangs flashing dangerously close to the man's throat.
"Wh-What?" the man whimpered. "Wh-Who?"
"SHE'S THE GIRL YOU RAPED YESTERDAY!" Spike bellowed in response as he turned and threw the pitiful excuse for a human being into the alley way. The man hit the pavement hard and did not stop sliding until his head collided with a dumpster.
Through his buzzing mind, the man exclaimed, "I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Yes," Spike ground out between gritted fangs, "you do!" He took a sailing leap from the entrance. Landing on top of the man, he began to beat him mercilessly, his fist pounding again and again into the man's face, breaking tissue first and then bone. "You do!" he repeated, as his fist moved to the man's eyes after shattering his nose. His fist continued to pound into the man, bringing a swiftly increasing amount of blood. "You raped her, you bastard, and now you're going to pay!" His eyes flashed as he continued to pound into the man.
"What are you?" the man spat in between moans as he was hit again. "Her brother or something?"
"Something," Spike growled out, his yellow eyes flashing, as his fist struck the man's mouth and then continued to pound mercilessly into his face.
Blood ran into the man's eyes, blinding him. His jaw was already broken, but he was too petrified to speak even if it hadn't been. Spike's fist continued to repeatedly slam into the man's face until he rolled again with the man and slammed him once more into the brick wall, kneeing him in his groin as he did so. Spike's mind whirled as he searched through all the various deaths he had thought up for this one heartless, so-called human being. They were countless, but then his black lips twisted into a cruel, cold smile in which there was not even a single trace of the soul he had.
One of Spike's fist closed tightly around the man's neck as he continued ramming him back into the brick wall even as his other hand slipped into one of the pockets on his tight, black jeans. He pulled out his cigarette lighter, flipped the lid open, and brought it in close to the man's groin. The Vampire's yellow eyes bore down into the terrified eyes of the human as he repeated again in a fatal snarl, "You're going to pay."
Spike's thumb drew softly across his lighter, bringing a spark of flame. As the flame came closer to the man's filthy sword, he screamed out, "NO! PLEASE, NO!"
"How many times did she ask you that?" Spike growled out. "How many times did she cry, plead with you, beg you not to?" He did not even give the man a chance to answer him as he brought the flame swiftly upwards. The flame instantly caught the man's pants on fire, bringing a scream of pain and terror from him. Spike let his lighter fall to the ground as his fist slammed into the man's gut. "You ignored her cries," he hissed, "and you've got no right to your own." The flame grew quickly as it melted first the pants and then the man's silk boxers before finally reaching its destination. As slimy skin burned, the man screamed again, but each time his mouth opened, Spike hit him again, his fist moving from the man's gut up to his lungs.
"SPIKE, STOP IT!" Buffy's terrified cry suddenly came from the mouth of the alley.
"Shag off, bit!" Spike snarled at her before he could stop himself. "This is the bastard who raped your sister!"
The Slayer's eyes opened wide, but then she flew into action. "Let go of him! Leave him alone!" She ran at Spike, but just as she reached him, he backhanded her with such strength that the blow sent the Slayer flying back against the opposite wall. She hit it hard and slumped to the pavement. Nonetheless, she tried again, "Spike, he's human!"
"Human? HUMAN!" Spike roared out, his yellow eyes flashing. The man screamed again, and Spike hit him, once more knocking the wind out of him and effectively silencing him. "HE RAPED YOUR SISTER, BUFFY! HOW THE HELL CAN THAT BE A HUMAN!"
"I don't know," the Slayer cried, "but he is!"
Spike wanted to argue with her. He wanted to tell her that it was not the being but the soul that made the human and that this so-called human's soul was as monstrous as they come, but he knew that no amount of reasoning in the world would do either of them any good. Thus, he instead responded only in a savage growl between clenched fangs, "Then he's one dead human!"
"Spike, no!" Buffy cried. "Don't do this!" She leapt to her feet and started to approach him, but Spike slung out a hand to stop her. Thinking swiftly, the Slayer added, "Don't do this to Dawn!" Seeing the way he stilled momentarily at the exclamation, Buffy rushed to add, "If you kill him, she'll blame herself! Do you want that on her conscience!"
"She'd want him dead!" Spike returned, his fist tightening around the man's neck and slowly crushing his wind pipe as the fire continued to spread up his body.
"No, she wouldn't!" Buffy cried. "This isn't me we're talking about here, Spike! It's Dawn! Sweet, little, innocent Dawnie!"
"She's not innocent any more," Spike growled out. "This bastard stole that from her when he stole her virginity! Look at your sister, you bloody bitch! Can't you see what he did!"
"I see it all," Buffy cried out in answer, tears streaming down her face, "but I know she wouldn't want this!"
"How do you know!" Spike roared.
"Because she made me promise I wouldn't kill him myself when I found him but would take him in!" Buffy finally admitted.
Spike heard the truth in the Slayer's words. Dawn didn't want this. She didn't want him killed. Despite everything he'd done to her and all that he had stolen from her, Dawn still did not want him killed. If he was, Spike knew that Buffy was right when the Slayer said that Dawn would take his murder on her own conscience. If he killed this heartless, soulless bastard, he would steal another piece of Dawn's innocence away, and though he knew that her innocence had already been stolen, he could not bring himself to allow another piece of the innocent, beautiful girl he'd once known to be destroyed. Thus, instead, with an anguished roar, he released his grip on the man's throat, turned with him, and threw him at the Slayer's feet. Spike paused only to pick up his cigarette lighter before stalking from the alley and leaving Buffy to put out the fire.
Less than an hour before sunrise, the Slayer walked up the path to her home. As she neared the porch, she was surprised to find Spike standing silently by a window, his back turned toward her and his steady gaze turned into the house where he watched Willow and Xander doing their best to cheer Dawn, his heart breaking all over again as he watched the injured, spiritually broken girl. Reaching the steps, Buffy cleared her throat as she spoke in a soft whisper, "I'm just getting here."
Spike stiffened at the sound of her voice and turned from the window to look down at her. "Just leavin'," he returned coldly as he stepped to the side of the porch and jumped off onto the grass.
As he started to walk away, Buffy turned and rushed after him. "Spike, wait!" He paused but did not turn back. "I - I wanted to say thank you," she started only to be interrupted.
He still did not turn back to look at her, and his hands still remained stuffed in the deep pockets of his leather trench just as they had been when she had found him at the window. The six gruff words he spoke evenly and truthfully stunned the Slayer into speechlessness: "I didn't do it for you." Buffy watched Spike go as he then walked away, disappearing into the fleeting night.
The End
Four Happiness, posted 6-22-13, rated K/G
Characters: Xander/Anya
Xander can't enjoy dinner with Anya.
Anya frowned at her menu. "I don't understand."
"What?"
"Four Happiness Pork," she said, pointing at the disturbing item on the menu. "No one ever told me there's four kinds of happiness. Can eating meat really make you happy, and what are the other kinds of happiness? Does it give you all four?"
Groaning, Xander rubbed his temples. All he'd wanted was to just take his girlfriend out and enjoy a quiet, Chinese dinner together, but of course, Anya never let anything be quiet or simple. He groaned again. He'd almost rather be attacked by Vampires than barraged by her never-ending questions!
The End
Fried Triumph, posted 8-17-13, rated K/G
Characters: Dawn, Spike
Dawn encourages Spike.
"Oh, come on, Spike, just try it."
"Eat your food, Nibblet."
"Help me." She poked a long, strangely shaped potato at him.
"Don't need to." Shrugging, he lit another cigarette. "We Vampires don't need to eat 'cept blood."
"Don't need to," she repeated, making a mimicking face, "but you enjoy it! Come on. Just try it! You'd like it! You like onion rings."
"Those fried onions are pretty good."
"And so are French fries. They're just fried potatoes."
"You don't fry a potato, or dip it in fake blood."
She laughed. "It's ketchup, Spike!" She grinned as he finally ate one.
The End
Game For Kittens, posted 4-19-17, rated T/PG-13
Character: Spike
Spike's poker game takes an unexpected turn.
Spike's eyes flick to the door as it opens and closes beyond another patron.
"You look jumpy tonight," one of his opponents hisses quietly, his forked tongue slithering out of his mouth like a snake. "Maybe you shouldn't be here."
"Yeah," another Demon giggles, a sound that would shivers down any human's spine, "maybe you should be up your girlfriend's skirt."
Spike moves his cigar to the other side of his mouth, playing it cool. "I'm my own man," he retorts calmly, adjusting his cards. He is his own man, but it wouldn't do to have Buffy find him playing poker again. He knows she doesn't approve of it, and even if he isn't draining the kittens, it also will never do for her to discover what he's really doing with them. He knows darn well he'd never live it down.
He'd like to be able to blame his lack of concentration on the mewling furballs in the center of the table, but he knows it's not them. This bar stinks of blood and death; it's no wonder the kittens can't settle down. They're only animals, and babies at that, and on a night like tonight, this place makes even a Vampire itch for a fight.
Thunder rumbles outside, and then, suddenly, something soft and warm brushes against Spike's bare knuckles. He jerks his hand away with a snarl as the Demons laugh.
"Looks like he likes you," the green and brown Demon who Spike swears has got to be at least part snake comments, chuckling.
"Yeah, well, he won't like anybody when I'm done with his little ass," Spike remarks, waving his long, agile fingers at the kitten. "Shoo. Get back in that basket."
"Aw, Spiky doesn't wanna hurt the wittle kitten."
The table erupts in laughter that burns Spike's high cheekbones. "Oh, I'll hurt him all right. I'll drain every one of them, but after I've earned them. I ain't owing you lot nothing."
"That's good," the Demon to Spike's far right comments from the shadows. The laughter stops abruptly at the sound of his low voice. "Because we also won't owe you anything, Vampire. Put him back in the basket, Lestate."
"Can I have a nibble?"
"No."
The kitten spits and slaps at the Demon's hand, drawing blood. Lestate yanks his hand away and back to him. "Ow!"
Spike again moves his cigar to the other side of his mouth. "Leave him," he directs as the reptilian Demon reaches for him. "He ain't hurting nothing."
"Very well. Just as long as you remember who owns these cats, Vampire, and this bar."
"Yeah, yeah. We gonna play, or do you wanna chat and do each other's hair? I forgot." Spike sneers, looking at the Demons' leader. "That's a toupee, and a bloody poor one at that."
"Ha. Ha." There's no humor in the Demon's voice, and the glare from his glowing eyes would cut straight through a lesser Vamp. But Spike's taken down worse Big Bads than him. Hell, he's been a worse Big Bad. "Very well. I'm in."
Spike examines his cards as the other Demons make their moves. He's got one Ace in his hand, but it's not enough. He ignores the kitten nipping at his fingers holding his cards until the little, brown beast wiggles underneath his cards and comes straight up at him. Their eyes meet. Spike quirks a brow as he notices a certain flair in the kitten's yellow green eyes. The kitten bats at Spike's nose. He shoves him gently away with his other hand and suddenly realizes there's another Ace in his hand he wasn't seeing. He makes his move with easy suave.
Again, the play goes around the table. Two Demons fold. The reptilian Demon slithers his tongue out of his mouth before drawing another card. He stays, and Spike makes his move. He's drawing a card just as the kitten butts the hand he already holds. He curses softly around his cigar and straightens his cards while the Demons laugh.
"Having trouble?" the leader asks in his cool, deep, and dark voice that reminds Spike too much of Angelus. He thinks he has everything just the way he wants it and there's nothing the little Vampire can do about it, but Spike knows better.
Then he sees a third Ace in his hand and abruptly hushes. He eyes the kitten, whose tiny, brown head is thrusting up between him and his cards. The kitten keeps his eye contact and smiles. Spike sucks his cigar, and the play continues. He doesn't draw another card, but he stays in the game until it comes down to just him and the leader. Only at the end of the round does he lay down his full house of three Aces and two tens.
The Demon hisses his surprise. Then he shrugs. "So you have a little luck tonight, Vampire," he says as the raging storm outside rattles the old walls of the bar. "It won't keep."
"Says you. I've had luck longer than you've been alive." Spike just doesn't elaborate on exactly what kind of luck it is he's had. He knows he only drew one Ace tonight, but he's not yet certain what exactly is going on, and as love's bitch, he knows luck has rarely been on his side.
"Then you won't chicken out of another round. Double or nothing."
"Let's make it interesting," Spike remarks casually, his yellow eyes taking in the Demonic faces all around him as well as the tiny, mewling kittens in the center of the table and the one silent one sitting right in front of him. "Cash and kittens. You got more?"
"Oh, I've got plenty more where these came from."
"Let's see 'em." Spike flicks his finished cigar behind his shoulder and lights another one. The brown kitten staring intently at him and slowly striking the table with his stub of a tail doesn't seem to mind the tobacco or quick strike of fire.
The leader makes a motion, and one of his henchmen steps behind the bar and comes back with another five kittens. He dumps the furry, trembling felines unceremoniously into the basket on the table. The leader shoves the rest of his chips into the center as well; Spike meets him calm and cool, watching the kitten more than he's watching his opponent.
"Let's play," the reptilian Demon says, slithering his tongue again.
The cards are dealt. Spike pulls up three diamonds and two clubs, only one face card and no Aces. When his turn comes, he tosses one card down into the discard pile. He feels, rather than sees, the brown kitten shift between him and his cards as he picks up the card he's dealt. He looks back at his hand, and suddenly, where there was only one Queen before, he now sees two ladies. His black lips start to lift in a grin around his cigar; he stops himself just in time and silently adds his new card into his hand.
Turns go around the table three times more before the play comes down again to only himself and the leader. The snaky Demon once again is the last to fold, this time with a disgusted snarl. "I don't like you, Vampire," he hisses.
Spike's eyes dance with mirth on the other side of the table. "Good, 'cause I don't like you either." He lays his hand down, showing off his three ladies, only one of whom he's pretty damn confident he actually drew.
The leader slaps his cards down. Spike grins as he leans forward and draws the chips and basket of kittens into his arms. The brown kitten mews, the first sound he's made all night except for the time he hissed at that one Demon who'd reached for him, as the leader reaches out and places a hand over Spike's. The blonde Vampire glowers up at him. "We better not be getting all touchy feely - "
The leader cuts him off calmly. "One more time."
"Yeah, boss! Do him again! I'll get him this time!"
"Silence, Snake. Just me and you, Vampire. Whadda ya say?"
Spike shrugs casually and leans back, leaving the kittens and the chips slightly to the left of the middle of the table. "All right. I'm game. What do you wanna lose this time?"
The Demon dangles a gold pocket watch. "I took this off of the Slayer I killed - "
The brown kitten mews. Spike's eyes flick to it. He runs his tongue over his black lips as he looks back at the Demon. "You got any more kittens?"
The Demon hesitates, clearly surprised. "Yeah," he says at last, and at Spike's nod, one of the Demon's henchmen hurries off to grab the remaining kittens still hiding and crying behind the bar.
"But what are you offering?" the leader asks, eyeing Spike warily. "These are all the kittens you bought, and you don't have any more cash."
Spike hesitates before bringing a diamond ring out of an inside pocket on his jacket.
"That was crafted by humans," the Demon starts, sneering.
"So was my jacket. But it was worn by the Slayer I killed."
"Are you offering . . . ?"
"Yeah."
The leader nods. It isn't much, but he wants to beat this Vampire down. "Very well."
The brown kitten sits between Spike's arms as play once more resumes. The whole bar is silent as the leader draws a card. Some one coughs when Spike draws his; that Demon's quickly dispatched by his own kind, never again to make another sound. The boss is the first to lay down his cards this time, his glowing eyes alight with certain triumph.
Spike watches as the Demon across from him lays down a straight flush, beginning with the nine of diamonds and ending with the King. "Good hand," he remarks as he starts laying down Spades. "Better hand," he finishes upon placing down, for all to see, the Ace of Spades. He grabs his basket of kittens, throws the chips in them, and jumps to his feet as the Demons all begin cussing and yelling. The brown kitten jumps onto his shoulder as Spike switches his game face on.
"I knew better than to think you blokes would play fair," he remarks as they come at him from all angles, but that's fine with him. He's been itching for a fight all night. He throws three off of him and into their boss before pulling a curved dagger from inside his trench. Its blade glistens in the poor lighting of the bar, looking both hungry and mean.
Spike drops to the floor, letting the Demon that was about to attack him from before topple into the two rushing him from the front. He leaps into the air, kicking back five more, and then swipes a head clean off its shoulders as he lands. He turns swiftly at the sound of a low hiss, like the kettle back in Giles' apartment just beginning to boil. Striking again with his blade, he smirks as he sees the Demon's forked tongue hit the blood and slime covered floor. "Told you that tongue was going to get you into trouble one of these nights."
The brown kitten on his shoulder mews a warning and lashes out with his claws, slicing into green hands before they can close around Spike's neck. Spike turns and kicks the Demon backwards, but three more rush him at once. He fights deftly, his punches swift and solid, and pauses only to grab a falling kitten and throw her back into the wicker basket with her companions.
The kitten on his shoulder meows again. The little guy's got his claws hooked solidly through Spike's leather jacket and into the Vampire's flesh, but he doesn't care. He's not sure what the cat's been doing, but he knows he owes tonight's wins to him. He turns again at his direction and drives his dagger straight into Lestate's chest.
Lestate falls back, screaming like a girl, as Spike draws his blade out of the Demon's flesh. He leaps into the stale air of the bar, kicking back another rush of Demons, and picks up another kitten as she falls out of the basket on his landing. The brown fellow mews again, and Spike understands just as he slashes off a pair of hands reaching into his basket. He can win this fight, but he doesn't like the odds of doing so without losing at least one kitten. And he does owe his wins to one of their litter mates, after all.
"It's been fun, boys," he says and pounces from one snarling, Demonic head to the next as he makes his way to the door.
"STOP HIM!" the leader hollers.
Spike grins. "You can try," he offers, stepping on a horn. The Exit sign glows just ahead of him. The kittens' cries hurry his pace, but he still turns as he hops down from walking on the Demons who couldn't tackle a ball properly if the bloody thing was given to them.
As he makes his final leap, he makes one last turn to look behind him and sends his dagger flying. "A party gift," he sneers as the dagger barrels straight for the Demons' leader, "for a good night. You don't have to return it." He chuckles, a sound far more dangerous than the snake Demon's hissing or any of their laughter. The sound dies in his throat as the snake one throws himself before his boss.
"Oh, well. Maybe next time," Spike dismisses the scene with the air of one who just doesn't care and plunges out the Exit into the night. He climbs quickly, hearing the Demons' leader bellow at his henchmen to follow him. A few manage to be hot on his trail, but he kills them quickly and silently with another dagger pulled from his boot.
"Silence," he hisses at the mewling kittens. The brown one leaps into the basket, and his mates actually hush as Spike pulls them all into the shadows. The Demons run by. His fingers curl with his desire to not run from the fight, but as the brown kitten begins to climb back up his body, Spike remembers why he's hiding tonight. It isn't for himself. He isn't afraid of those Demons. He could take them down pretty damn easily.
There's another reason why he's standing here in the shadows. Maybe he's gone soft. That reason does have a small, furry body, and Spike thinks he'd probably be pretty damn soft to touch. He turns his head as the kitten finally reaches his shoulder and finds himself peering directly into the feline's yellow green eyes, their noses touching. "What did you do in there, huh?" he asks him, certain the Demons are gone.
The kitten mews. Spike grins in the night. "Yeah," he agrees, "we all have our secrets." And it looks like, as of tonight, Spike's got one more secret to add to his ever growing list. "I need to take you lot to a friend of mine, but I think you'll stay with me." It's been a while since he's visited Mister Fantastico, but the old drag queen has never been able to turn down a furry face. "Sound like a good idea?" The brown kitten mews again and rubs his nose against Spike's.
Spike laughs. Yeah, he's got a new secret and a new chapter of his life, one that's filled with more good luck than a Vamp deserves and maybe even a little love, is starting with the addition of another presence in Spike's life who may look as gentle as Dawn but who, Spike is willing to bet, can bite when needed as hard as Angelus on his darkest night. "Let's go." His luck is changing; maybe it's time his heart did, too.
The End
Giles' Sunshine, 3-16-17, rated K+/PG
Characters: Giles/Buffy
They're both determined to take care of each other.
"Giles!" Buffy calls, jerking her Watcher awake.
He jumps to a sitting position, instinctively removing his spectacles and starting to clean them before he's even truly entirely awake. Through the fogginess of his natural vision, Rupert thinks he sees a puddle of his own drool looking up at him from the pages of the ancient text book he was studying and frowns deeply.
"Why do you keep doing this to yourself, Giles?" Buffy demands. "You're always on my case about doing my best, but you can't do your best if you're too darn tired to do anything!"
"Buffy, I - "
"You need to get your head out of these books!" the teenager persists. "We're doing this every morning now! Every morning, I come in here to train, and I find you face first in a puddle of drool! That's a Xander move, not something I expect from you, Giles, but you're too tired! Get some rest!"
He winces as he looks at her, wondering if she knows just how bright her blonde hair shimmers in the early morning light.
"Giles," Buffy says warningly as though she's the one in charge, as though she's the one who's got to keep him alive instead of vice versa.
"I . . . I . . . " he sputters, feeling almost like a disobedient schoolboy only that, if he was an actual schoolboy, he might have the right to look at her and see her beauty. He might have the right to admire her shapely curves, be alarmed by her disarming smile, or worry over her every second of every night and day - but, by God, he does have the right to the last for he is her Watcher!
"Learning never exhausts the mind, Buffy." He wonders where that quote come from - he's pretty certain he read it somewhere just last night - even as he can't help but to think that she exhausts his mind. There's many reasons why he spends his hours going over his books again and again until he can go straight to any passage they may need, and not the least of them is the fact that he is in a sore need of distraction from her beauty. And God, is she ever so beautiful!
Buffy rolls her eyes, looking every bit the teenager that she is and reminding him yet again that he shouldn't be having such naughty thoughts about a girl her age. His place here is to protect her, to guide her, and to guard her, to keep her alive so that she, in turn, can keep the world alive. It's not to be obsessed with her, especially with her beauty. He shouldn't even be noticing the way her hair looks this morning, and he certainly shouldn't feel that odd twitter in his heart when she smiles at him! If only she would smile again . . .
"That so sounds like something you Brits would say! Maybe learning doesn't exhaust the mind, Giles, but it definitely exhausts your eyes! You need to get some rest!" She softens a little as she adds, "Miss Calendar wouldn't want you living like this."
Ah, Jenny! He does miss her, but the ache isn't as terrible as it was when Angelus first took her from him. It isn't all consuming, and it isn't the reason he's here night after night, day after day . . .
"Look at you," Buffy says, grabbing hold of his hands and pulling him to his feet. "You can barely walk. Your clothes and hair are a mess. You - "
"My attire hardly matters in keeping you alive, Buffy."
Buffy cocks her head to one side, as though surprised at what he's just said. He wishes he could take back the words, but they're out in the open now, hanging between them. "Is that what this is about?" she asks softly. "Giles, I kicked the Master's ass. I'm going to kick Angelus' ass if Willow doesn't find the spell in time. I'm not going anywhere. You're not going to get rid of me that fast. I promise."
Suddenly, her arms are around him, and Giles doesn't dare move. He doesn't even dare breathe lest she hear the shakiness of his breath and know what her closeness is truly doing to him. But slowly, ever so slowly, he lowers his arms around her small frame, all too aware that the fate of the whole world rests on those slim, light shoulders that barely feel like they should be able to bench press anything, let alone stop all the hordes of Hell. "Buffy," he breathes her name, giving in to the shakiness he feels, but she pushes him away.
"Go."
"Excuse me?"
"Go home, Giles. Get some rest. Eat something. Drink something not alcoholic. Go home. Rest. I'll come check on you tonight."
"Buffy, I - "
"Go home," she instructs again with a very pointed expression, "or I will kick your ass home. Do you understand me?"
"Yes," he says, his lips sliding up into a tiny smile. "Yes," he repeats, placing his fogged glasses back onto the bridge of his nose where they belong and smiling a little more widely, "I do."
"Good." She folds her arms before her chest and watches as he gathers his things and leaves, all the time wondering who really is supposed to be in charge between them, who is taking care of whom, and if she has even the slightest inkling of how much she shakes him to his very core. He should be mourning Jenny, but instead all he can think is about Buffy. He'll pour over his books more at home, he promises himself as he leaves the library, and Buffy's stern glower, behind. He'll never stop researching, never stop studying, because everything he reads is something from which he might gleam a little bit of knowledge, and the more knowledge he possesses, the more likely he is to be able to keep her alive and to keep her happy sunshine bubbling in his life.
The End
Good Food, Good Friends, posted 4-2-13, rated K/G
Characters: Ensemble
Good food's always been known to make for good company.
"Any one for tea?" A cacophony of complaints instantly filled his library, but all that changed when he set down his tray.
"Cookies!" Xander exclaimed, his face lighting up with enough gleeful excitement to make any cook proud.
"Actually," Willow commented, "I think those are tea cakes."
"Whatever they are, I bet they're good! Hey, G man, do we have to drink tea with our pinkies out if we get some cookies?"
"Giles," Buffy interrupted, fingers boldly grasping one of the sweets, "what's England like?"
Giles smiled, his eyes twinkling. Nothing else has ever brought people together like good food.
The End
Characters: Faith+/Buffy
Faith's curse is what she'll never forget.
The slaying, the killing, the drinking, the screwing . . . She indulged in it all so thoroughly for one simple purpose: It was all supposed to help her forget, and yet nothing did any longer. She dreamt not of blood but of her every day, and every night, no matter how much beer she guzzled or how much blood she spilled, Faith could still see her pretty, little face smirking at her.
The rogue Slayer was cursed not because she'd spilled innocent blood or because she'd gone wicked. It wasn't those she'd murdered who she couldn't forget. No, one body was just as good as the next. It was her. It was all her. It'd always been her. She'd never be as good as Buffy, or good enough for her, and that burned her like nothing else.
The End
Faith's Reality, posted 1-21-13, posted T/PG-13
Characters: Faith/Buffy
Reality's a bitch.
Buffy thinks she's the coolest and best Vampire Slayer to ever wield a stake and try to kick ass. It's one of the many things that aggravate Faith about her to no end, but she doesn't bother to tell her that she's cooler. It should be obvious to anybody with half a brain that Faith's tougher, meaner, and more bad ass than the blonde Slayer will ever be. All these attributes and more automatically make Faith the best, and cooler, Slayer, but coolness doesn't matter to her. She is what she is, and cool just happens to be a part of her package.
She's tired of hearing Buffy prattle on about how good she is, how many Vampires she's staked, and how often she's made sacrifices to save the world. She's tired of hearing the blonde speak and wishes she could ram her stake down her throat, but it isn't simply because of how proud Buffy is or how she thinks she's so cool. That adds to Faith's frustration with her, but it's only a small amount of why she's always so quick to bite Buffy's head off verbally and remind her that she isn't as cool as she thinks she is.
Buffy also thinks she's the first Slayer to have friends, to have a support group. Faith knows better, even if the Council doesn't. She knows the Council wouldn't approve of Buffy's little "Scooby Gang" any more than they would have approved of the other Slayer who had a support group, who had friends and family laying their lives on the line with her every night, and or of her methods. Faith doesn't approve of her methods any more, either, which is a kick in ass, because they were her methods.
She's the older Slayer. She's the one who was called, and killed, before Buffy, allowing for the blonde to be called and Kendra later to be added to the long list of women to die slaying for a world that's too stupid to open its eyes to the blood suckers that prey upon it. She doesn't know if she's the first Slayer to have friends and family who supported and helped her in battle, but she does believe she's the first one to get her Watcher killed, and her mother, and the few friends with whom she grew up.
She hears their voices every day. She remembers all that her Watcher tried to teach her with each Vampire she stakes. She hears her voice in her head telling her when to move, how to act and react, and when to drive the stake home. She sees her mother's face in the mirror every time she dares to look in it. And every moment of every day and night, Faith remembers.
She remembers what it was like to be loved. She remembers what it was like to be trusted and cared for, to have people who loved her so much that they refused to live her alone and let her fight her own battles. She remembers believing she'd never be alone, and she remembers watching every one of them who loved her, and who she loved, be killed until at last, when it was just her, her father, and her "little sister" left, Faith broke and ran.
She's still running to this day. She keeps a check on them. She slinks back home from time to time just to make sure they're still breathing. She'll always watch over them as best she can from a distance, but the way she can help them best now, she knows, after being coated with the blood of so many she's loved, is to stay away from them and not let the creatures of the night know what they mean to her, to say she has no one when she knows they'd both still lay down their lives for her, to pretend to be, and want to be, all alone.
That's the true reason why she's so angry with Buffy: Buffy has all that she once had, and so far, she's managed to keep it. She's still got her mother, her Watcher, and her friends. She's precariously balancing a life slaying and going to school, something Faith quit within the first month of becoming a Vampire Slayer to study full time with her Watcher, who also was supposed to teach her family and friends, after they discovered what she was doing, how to protect themselves.
She was supposed to teach them how to stay safe from the Vampires and other monsters Faith fights. She tried to. Faith guesses she didn't do a good enough job of teaching them how to protect themselves. She should have forced them away from her. She should have made sure they wouldn't become targets because of Faith. She should have taken Faith out of their lives, or them out of her life. If she had, they'd still be alive.
If she'd done her job properly, as she's heard Giles refer to the duty he knows he should fulfill of separating Buffy and the others, her mother wouldn't have been killed, her head dropped into her lap. Her friends wouldn't have been slaughtered. Her first lover would never have been turned.
Yes, Faith guesses her Watcher didn't do a good enough job. She should be angry with her for allowing her family and friends to put their lives on the line when it wasn't their place, when they weren't the ones called to be Slayers, but she can't be angry with her even if she should be.
She can't be angry with her, because Faith knows why her friends and family were slaughtered. She knows the reason their blood was spilled, why she was covered in it. They were killed because of her. They were killed, because they couldn't stop loving, and in so doing, trying to protect her. They were killed, because Faith couldn't say "no" or separate herself from them.
They were killed for the same reason Buffy's friends will one day be killed one by one. She'll see them all fall, just as Faith did. Her jokes will stop then. Her pride will crumble, just like Faith's did. She'll finally know she's not the biggest, baddest thing to wield a stake, that she's no better than any other Slayer who's come before or will come after her. Her mouth will shut. She'll withdraw within herself.
That should make Faith happy. She'd still love to shove her stake down her throat to shut the babbling blonde up, but she doesn't want anybody else to suffer like she has, not really. She doesn't want anybody else to know the pain, heartache, and grief that comes with losing every one you've ever loved and who's loved you. She doesn't want to share her pain. She just wants Buffy to shut the Hell up and leave her the Hell alone, like the rest of the world finally has, but she knows, regrettably, she won't do it until the dark days hit again.
The End
Fantasies Are Made, posted 8-17-13, rated M/R
Characters: Ensemble
"That," Anya exclaimed, "is what fantasies are made of!"
"How on Earth did I ever let you talk me into this?" Giles asked, squirming in his tweed boxers and cotton socks.
"I never should've played." A naked Xander shook his head woefully. "I know I don't know a thing about chess."
"You don't know anything about fighting, either," Spike retorted, "but lack of knowledge's never stopped you, Zeppo."
Xander cringed. "I'm never going to live any of this down." Spike grinned.
Giles yelped when his door opened. Willow squealed, covered her eyes, but peeked. "That," Anya stated, grinning broadly, "is what fantasies are made of!"
"Euuw!" Buffy exclaimed but snuck another look.
The End
For His Dawnie, posted 6-22-13, rated K/G
Characters: Spike+/Dawn
Spike takes Dawn out to dinner.
He sat and watched her eat, his chin resting amiably upon the palm of his pale hand. He watched and sat in silence as she ate her plate, then went back to the bar, and returned with a second plate first and then a third. Their waitress came to fill her drink; he waved her away when she turned to him. Realizing how much she'd eaten while he waited patiently, Dawn lowered her eyes and blushed. Spike just smiled and waved their waitress back. He finally ordered a bag of pork to go, but that, too, was for his Dawnie.
The End
For Jenny, posted 8-4-13, rated K+/PG
Characters: Giles/Jenny
He would do anything to have her back.
His mind still goes south whenever he thinks of her. For most men, that would mean their groin area, but for Rupert Giles, it means plummeting, along with his heart, throughout his body and straight to Hell. He can not think of her without his eyes misting. He can not hear her name spoken without wanting to scream in agony and grief. He'd do anything to hold her again, anything to take back what has happened, what happened to her because of him, but he can not. What he can do he will, and that is to never love again.
The End
For Love of Innocence, posted 7-18-06, rated M/R
Characters: Spike, Dawn
When Dawn is attacked, will it be Buffy who comes to her rescue or someone else?
He walked in silence, the long tails of his black leather trench coat flapping around his legs. The spark of fire in his cigarette was the only light in that long, dark night, and the silence was almost deafening. He wondered where the others were and why every one seemed to be holed up for the night when a blast of howling wind nearly knocked him off of his own two feet. The wind brought with it remembrance, and his black lips pulled back in a smirk. Stupid humans, he thought. They run around every night, ignoring the dangers of the Hellmouth, but let a little hurricane even so much as think about coming to shore, and they all run and hide in their homes like mice in their holes.
He took another puff of his cigarette and paused as he heard a soft rustling behind him. His pace slowed as he continued to smoke. A figure leapt from the bushes that lined the walkway, but he whirled around to meet his attacker. He easily blocked his opponent, then released his cigarette to fall towards the ground as he snatched a stake from an inner pocket in his trench. "Next time you try sneakin' up on a bloke, ya might want to check an' see if he's one of your own kind first," he suggested coldly even as the stake drove home. As the other Vampire's dust rained down upon him, he shrugged, returned the stake to his pocket, and snatched his cigarette up just before it could hit the ground. "Make that if you have a chance to try it again," he amended to the empty air before turning and continuing along his lonely path.
He had not gone more than five feet forward when a soft crying met his ears, bringing him to an abrupt but immediate stop. His eyes narrowed as he listened to the pitiful, heartbroken wails. He knew that voice . . . but . . . who? The crying broke with a loud sob that sent the Vampire turning and racing through bushes and trees. Heedless of everything else around him, he ran toward that voice as if the cries endangered his own afterlife. He burst through another row of bushes and came to a screeching halt almost at the edge of the park. His dark eyes shifted instantly to the crier. Though the night was no longer even lit by his forgotten cigarette, he could see her clearly, . . . and his heart broke at the sight.
She lay in a heap on the ground, her clothes mere shreds that she clung desperately to her bruised and battered body. Tears ran down her once-beautiful face that was now marred with dirt, ugly bruises, and her own blood. Tortured sobs continued to escape her cut lips. He had thought she had not even heard his approach, but then she spoke, her words causing him to ache even more for her. "Go ahead," she broke out in a whisper, her sobs suddenly ceasing though her tears continued to flow unchecked. "Do it. Bite me. Kill me. Whatever. I don't care."
"Never, Dawn," he managed to speak as he walked slowly, as if struggling to make it to her side through a thick haze of mist that was his own disbelief at the sight before him.
"Spike?" she whimpered, looking up at him through two black eyes.
He did not speak one single word more until he had reached her side and knelt before her. "Dawn," he started to say, his deep concern clear in his dark eyes and handsome face, only to have his words freeze in his throat as she collapsed into his arms. He fell silent as he gathered her close to him, his arms wrapping around her body. Her head pressed into his shoulder as she continued to cry; his leaned softly into her long hair as he closed his eyes, stilling the fury that boiled within him as well as he was able.
As he held her, gently rocking her fragile body, varied smells swirled around Spike's nostrils. He could smell what she had had to eat that day for lunch and even breakfast; the various scents of things and people that she had been around that day at school; the lingering aromas of Buffy and the Summers household; and, of course, her honey almond shampoo. Despite his concern for her, Spike still had to struggle to rein in his natural Vampiric instincts to drink her delicious blood that assailed his nostrils, but it was the two other putrid scents that the air around her was fouled with that caused his eyes to flash and his fangs to bare in a savage, furious growl that she either did not hear or simply chose to ignore.
A cold dread of expectation had settled over his dead heart the very second he had found Dawn in her current condition, but the smells that his nose could no longer ignore told him that he had indeed been right. No one should have done to them what had happened to her, but Dawn - beautiful, innocent Dawn was the absolute last being on the face of the planet that deserved to be desecrated in such a horrid manner. Hidden behind Dawn's back, Spike's fists clenched and unclenched, his black nails biting into his palms as he longed desperately to close his hands around the throat of the heartless bastard who had done this to her.
Spike's fury had built until he could scarcely control it for even one second longer when he suddenly heard a furious voice behind him. "SPIKE!" the Slayer yelled, her blue eyes flashing. "GET OFF OF MY SISTER!"
The Slayer started to run toward them, stake in hand, when Dawn's weak voice stopped her dead in her tracks. "It wasn't him," she whimpered, looking up at her older sister as the moon unexpectedly slid from behind a heavy cloud.
The moonbeams caught Dawn's face in their silvery light, and the Slayer gasped aloud. "Dawnie?" Her fingers released the forgotten stake as she walked, partially stumbling as she could not tear her eyes away from her viciously bruised face, toward her baby sister. "Wh-What happened?" she whispered, her voice so small that one would have thought that she had been the one attacked.
As Buffy knelt beside Spike, Spike released Dawn to let her turn into her sister's arms. "I . . . I . . . It . . . It was . . . aw . . . awful . . . I . . . It . . . " Dawn cried helplessly against her sister's chest.
"It's okay, Dawn. It's going to be okay," Buffy repeated as she lovingly stroked Dawn's hair. Her blue eyes rose to where Spike had stood upon giving Dawn to her, but he was no longer there. The Slayer's eyes whipped around the area, but the Vampire was long gone.
It was the next night before Spike was finally able to locate the man whose scent had been all over Dawn. When he did, he was walking home with his arm swung around the slender shoulders of a long-legged blonde. Their heads were pressed together as they laughed and talked merrily, his eyes dancing as if nothing had happened the night before. Despite the wait, Spike's fury had not lessened in the least, and when he saw the happy look on the man's face, his fury grew even more.
When the couple reached the entrance to the alley way where Spike had hidden in waiting, he stepped out in front of them, his game face already on. The woman screamed as the man cursed. Spike's yellow eyes shifted to the woman, and her face paled in horror. He growled, and she turned around and ran, screaming, into the night. His full attention then shifted back to the man. The man's mouth opened to speak, but before he could get even so much as one syllable out, Spike was upon him. He snatched him up by the open sides of his leather jacket and slammed him into the nearby brick wall. "DAWN SUMMERS!" he roared, his fangs flashing dangerously close to the man's throat.
"Wh-What?" the man whimpered. "Wh-Who?"
"SHE'S THE GIRL YOU RAPED YESTERDAY!" Spike bellowed in response as he turned and threw the pitiful excuse for a human being into the alley way. The man hit the pavement hard and did not stop sliding until his head collided with a dumpster.
Through his buzzing mind, the man exclaimed, "I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Yes," Spike ground out between gritted fangs, "you do!" He took a sailing leap from the entrance. Landing on top of the man, he began to beat him mercilessly, his fist pounding again and again into the man's face, breaking tissue first and then bone. "You do!" he repeated, as his fist moved to the man's eyes after shattering his nose. His fist continued to pound into the man, bringing a swiftly increasing amount of blood. "You raped her, you bastard, and now you're going to pay!" His eyes flashed as he continued to pound into the man.
"What are you?" the man spat in between moans as he was hit again. "Her brother or something?"
"Something," Spike growled out, his yellow eyes flashing, as his fist struck the man's mouth and then continued to pound mercilessly into his face.
Blood ran into the man's eyes, blinding him. His jaw was already broken, but he was too petrified to speak even if it hadn't been. Spike's fist continued to repeatedly slam into the man's face until he rolled again with the man and slammed him once more into the brick wall, kneeing him in his groin as he did so. Spike's mind whirled as he searched through all the various deaths he had thought up for this one heartless, so-called human being. They were countless, but then his black lips twisted into a cruel, cold smile in which there was not even a single trace of the soul he had.
One of Spike's fist closed tightly around the man's neck as he continued ramming him back into the brick wall even as his other hand slipped into one of the pockets on his tight, black jeans. He pulled out his cigarette lighter, flipped the lid open, and brought it in close to the man's groin. The Vampire's yellow eyes bore down into the terrified eyes of the human as he repeated again in a fatal snarl, "You're going to pay."
Spike's thumb drew softly across his lighter, bringing a spark of flame. As the flame came closer to the man's filthy sword, he screamed out, "NO! PLEASE, NO!"
"How many times did she ask you that?" Spike growled out. "How many times did she cry, plead with you, beg you not to?" He did not even give the man a chance to answer him as he brought the flame swiftly upwards. The flame instantly caught the man's pants on fire, bringing a scream of pain and terror from him. Spike let his lighter fall to the ground as his fist slammed into the man's gut. "You ignored her cries," he hissed, "and you've got no right to your own." The flame grew quickly as it melted first the pants and then the man's silk boxers before finally reaching its destination. As slimy skin burned, the man screamed again, but each time his mouth opened, Spike hit him again, his fist moving from the man's gut up to his lungs.
"SPIKE, STOP IT!" Buffy's terrified cry suddenly came from the mouth of the alley.
"Shag off, bit!" Spike snarled at her before he could stop himself. "This is the bastard who raped your sister!"
The Slayer's eyes opened wide, but then she flew into action. "Let go of him! Leave him alone!" She ran at Spike, but just as she reached him, he backhanded her with such strength that the blow sent the Slayer flying back against the opposite wall. She hit it hard and slumped to the pavement. Nonetheless, she tried again, "Spike, he's human!"
"Human? HUMAN!" Spike roared out, his yellow eyes flashing. The man screamed again, and Spike hit him, once more knocking the wind out of him and effectively silencing him. "HE RAPED YOUR SISTER, BUFFY! HOW THE HELL CAN THAT BE A HUMAN!"
"I don't know," the Slayer cried, "but he is!"
Spike wanted to argue with her. He wanted to tell her that it was not the being but the soul that made the human and that this so-called human's soul was as monstrous as they come, but he knew that no amount of reasoning in the world would do either of them any good. Thus, he instead responded only in a savage growl between clenched fangs, "Then he's one dead human!"
"Spike, no!" Buffy cried. "Don't do this!" She leapt to her feet and started to approach him, but Spike slung out a hand to stop her. Thinking swiftly, the Slayer added, "Don't do this to Dawn!" Seeing the way he stilled momentarily at the exclamation, Buffy rushed to add, "If you kill him, she'll blame herself! Do you want that on her conscience!"
"She'd want him dead!" Spike returned, his fist tightening around the man's neck and slowly crushing his wind pipe as the fire continued to spread up his body.
"No, she wouldn't!" Buffy cried. "This isn't me we're talking about here, Spike! It's Dawn! Sweet, little, innocent Dawnie!"
"She's not innocent any more," Spike growled out. "This bastard stole that from her when he stole her virginity! Look at your sister, you bloody bitch! Can't you see what he did!"
"I see it all," Buffy cried out in answer, tears streaming down her face, "but I know she wouldn't want this!"
"How do you know!" Spike roared.
"Because she made me promise I wouldn't kill him myself when I found him but would take him in!" Buffy finally admitted.
Spike heard the truth in the Slayer's words. Dawn didn't want this. She didn't want him killed. Despite everything he'd done to her and all that he had stolen from her, Dawn still did not want him killed. If he was, Spike knew that Buffy was right when the Slayer said that Dawn would take his murder on her own conscience. If he killed this heartless, soulless bastard, he would steal another piece of Dawn's innocence away, and though he knew that her innocence had already been stolen, he could not bring himself to allow another piece of the innocent, beautiful girl he'd once known to be destroyed. Thus, instead, with an anguished roar, he released his grip on the man's throat, turned with him, and threw him at the Slayer's feet. Spike paused only to pick up his cigarette lighter before stalking from the alley and leaving Buffy to put out the fire.
Less than an hour before sunrise, the Slayer walked up the path to her home. As she neared the porch, she was surprised to find Spike standing silently by a window, his back turned toward her and his steady gaze turned into the house where he watched Willow and Xander doing their best to cheer Dawn, his heart breaking all over again as he watched the injured, spiritually broken girl. Reaching the steps, Buffy cleared her throat as she spoke in a soft whisper, "I'm just getting here."
Spike stiffened at the sound of her voice and turned from the window to look down at her. "Just leavin'," he returned coldly as he stepped to the side of the porch and jumped off onto the grass.
As he started to walk away, Buffy turned and rushed after him. "Spike, wait!" He paused but did not turn back. "I - I wanted to say thank you," she started only to be interrupted.
He still did not turn back to look at her, and his hands still remained stuffed in the deep pockets of his leather trench just as they had been when she had found him at the window. The six gruff words he spoke evenly and truthfully stunned the Slayer into speechlessness: "I didn't do it for you." Buffy watched Spike go as he then walked away, disappearing into the fleeting night.
The End
Four Happiness, posted 6-22-13, rated K/G
Characters: Xander/Anya
Xander can't enjoy dinner with Anya.
Anya frowned at her menu. "I don't understand."
"What?"
"Four Happiness Pork," she said, pointing at the disturbing item on the menu. "No one ever told me there's four kinds of happiness. Can eating meat really make you happy, and what are the other kinds of happiness? Does it give you all four?"
Groaning, Xander rubbed his temples. All he'd wanted was to just take his girlfriend out and enjoy a quiet, Chinese dinner together, but of course, Anya never let anything be quiet or simple. He groaned again. He'd almost rather be attacked by Vampires than barraged by her never-ending questions!
The End
Fried Triumph, posted 8-17-13, rated K/G
Characters: Dawn, Spike
Dawn encourages Spike.
"Oh, come on, Spike, just try it."
"Eat your food, Nibblet."
"Help me." She poked a long, strangely shaped potato at him.
"Don't need to." Shrugging, he lit another cigarette. "We Vampires don't need to eat 'cept blood."
"Don't need to," she repeated, making a mimicking face, "but you enjoy it! Come on. Just try it! You'd like it! You like onion rings."
"Those fried onions are pretty good."
"And so are French fries. They're just fried potatoes."
"You don't fry a potato, or dip it in fake blood."
She laughed. "It's ketchup, Spike!" She grinned as he finally ate one.
The End
Game For Kittens, posted 4-19-17, rated T/PG-13
Character: Spike
Spike's poker game takes an unexpected turn.
Spike's eyes flick to the door as it opens and closes beyond another patron.
"You look jumpy tonight," one of his opponents hisses quietly, his forked tongue slithering out of his mouth like a snake. "Maybe you shouldn't be here."
"Yeah," another Demon giggles, a sound that would shivers down any human's spine, "maybe you should be up your girlfriend's skirt."
Spike moves his cigar to the other side of his mouth, playing it cool. "I'm my own man," he retorts calmly, adjusting his cards. He is his own man, but it wouldn't do to have Buffy find him playing poker again. He knows she doesn't approve of it, and even if he isn't draining the kittens, it also will never do for her to discover what he's really doing with them. He knows darn well he'd never live it down.
He'd like to be able to blame his lack of concentration on the mewling furballs in the center of the table, but he knows it's not them. This bar stinks of blood and death; it's no wonder the kittens can't settle down. They're only animals, and babies at that, and on a night like tonight, this place makes even a Vampire itch for a fight.
Thunder rumbles outside, and then, suddenly, something soft and warm brushes against Spike's bare knuckles. He jerks his hand away with a snarl as the Demons laugh.
"Looks like he likes you," the green and brown Demon who Spike swears has got to be at least part snake comments, chuckling.
"Yeah, well, he won't like anybody when I'm done with his little ass," Spike remarks, waving his long, agile fingers at the kitten. "Shoo. Get back in that basket."
"Aw, Spiky doesn't wanna hurt the wittle kitten."
The table erupts in laughter that burns Spike's high cheekbones. "Oh, I'll hurt him all right. I'll drain every one of them, but after I've earned them. I ain't owing you lot nothing."
"That's good," the Demon to Spike's far right comments from the shadows. The laughter stops abruptly at the sound of his low voice. "Because we also won't owe you anything, Vampire. Put him back in the basket, Lestate."
"Can I have a nibble?"
"No."
The kitten spits and slaps at the Demon's hand, drawing blood. Lestate yanks his hand away and back to him. "Ow!"
Spike again moves his cigar to the other side of his mouth. "Leave him," he directs as the reptilian Demon reaches for him. "He ain't hurting nothing."
"Very well. Just as long as you remember who owns these cats, Vampire, and this bar."
"Yeah, yeah. We gonna play, or do you wanna chat and do each other's hair? I forgot." Spike sneers, looking at the Demons' leader. "That's a toupee, and a bloody poor one at that."
"Ha. Ha." There's no humor in the Demon's voice, and the glare from his glowing eyes would cut straight through a lesser Vamp. But Spike's taken down worse Big Bads than him. Hell, he's been a worse Big Bad. "Very well. I'm in."
Spike examines his cards as the other Demons make their moves. He's got one Ace in his hand, but it's not enough. He ignores the kitten nipping at his fingers holding his cards until the little, brown beast wiggles underneath his cards and comes straight up at him. Their eyes meet. Spike quirks a brow as he notices a certain flair in the kitten's yellow green eyes. The kitten bats at Spike's nose. He shoves him gently away with his other hand and suddenly realizes there's another Ace in his hand he wasn't seeing. He makes his move with easy suave.
Again, the play goes around the table. Two Demons fold. The reptilian Demon slithers his tongue out of his mouth before drawing another card. He stays, and Spike makes his move. He's drawing a card just as the kitten butts the hand he already holds. He curses softly around his cigar and straightens his cards while the Demons laugh.
"Having trouble?" the leader asks in his cool, deep, and dark voice that reminds Spike too much of Angelus. He thinks he has everything just the way he wants it and there's nothing the little Vampire can do about it, but Spike knows better.
Then he sees a third Ace in his hand and abruptly hushes. He eyes the kitten, whose tiny, brown head is thrusting up between him and his cards. The kitten keeps his eye contact and smiles. Spike sucks his cigar, and the play continues. He doesn't draw another card, but he stays in the game until it comes down to just him and the leader. Only at the end of the round does he lay down his full house of three Aces and two tens.
The Demon hisses his surprise. Then he shrugs. "So you have a little luck tonight, Vampire," he says as the raging storm outside rattles the old walls of the bar. "It won't keep."
"Says you. I've had luck longer than you've been alive." Spike just doesn't elaborate on exactly what kind of luck it is he's had. He knows he only drew one Ace tonight, but he's not yet certain what exactly is going on, and as love's bitch, he knows luck has rarely been on his side.
"Then you won't chicken out of another round. Double or nothing."
"Let's make it interesting," Spike remarks casually, his yellow eyes taking in the Demonic faces all around him as well as the tiny, mewling kittens in the center of the table and the one silent one sitting right in front of him. "Cash and kittens. You got more?"
"Oh, I've got plenty more where these came from."
"Let's see 'em." Spike flicks his finished cigar behind his shoulder and lights another one. The brown kitten staring intently at him and slowly striking the table with his stub of a tail doesn't seem to mind the tobacco or quick strike of fire.
The leader makes a motion, and one of his henchmen steps behind the bar and comes back with another five kittens. He dumps the furry, trembling felines unceremoniously into the basket on the table. The leader shoves the rest of his chips into the center as well; Spike meets him calm and cool, watching the kitten more than he's watching his opponent.
"Let's play," the reptilian Demon says, slithering his tongue again.
The cards are dealt. Spike pulls up three diamonds and two clubs, only one face card and no Aces. When his turn comes, he tosses one card down into the discard pile. He feels, rather than sees, the brown kitten shift between him and his cards as he picks up the card he's dealt. He looks back at his hand, and suddenly, where there was only one Queen before, he now sees two ladies. His black lips start to lift in a grin around his cigar; he stops himself just in time and silently adds his new card into his hand.
Turns go around the table three times more before the play comes down again to only himself and the leader. The snaky Demon once again is the last to fold, this time with a disgusted snarl. "I don't like you, Vampire," he hisses.
Spike's eyes dance with mirth on the other side of the table. "Good, 'cause I don't like you either." He lays his hand down, showing off his three ladies, only one of whom he's pretty damn confident he actually drew.
The leader slaps his cards down. Spike grins as he leans forward and draws the chips and basket of kittens into his arms. The brown kitten mews, the first sound he's made all night except for the time he hissed at that one Demon who'd reached for him, as the leader reaches out and places a hand over Spike's. The blonde Vampire glowers up at him. "We better not be getting all touchy feely - "
The leader cuts him off calmly. "One more time."
"Yeah, boss! Do him again! I'll get him this time!"
"Silence, Snake. Just me and you, Vampire. Whadda ya say?"
Spike shrugs casually and leans back, leaving the kittens and the chips slightly to the left of the middle of the table. "All right. I'm game. What do you wanna lose this time?"
The Demon dangles a gold pocket watch. "I took this off of the Slayer I killed - "
The brown kitten mews. Spike's eyes flick to it. He runs his tongue over his black lips as he looks back at the Demon. "You got any more kittens?"
The Demon hesitates, clearly surprised. "Yeah," he says at last, and at Spike's nod, one of the Demon's henchmen hurries off to grab the remaining kittens still hiding and crying behind the bar.
"But what are you offering?" the leader asks, eyeing Spike warily. "These are all the kittens you bought, and you don't have any more cash."
Spike hesitates before bringing a diamond ring out of an inside pocket on his jacket.
"That was crafted by humans," the Demon starts, sneering.
"So was my jacket. But it was worn by the Slayer I killed."
"Are you offering . . . ?"
"Yeah."
The leader nods. It isn't much, but he wants to beat this Vampire down. "Very well."
The brown kitten sits between Spike's arms as play once more resumes. The whole bar is silent as the leader draws a card. Some one coughs when Spike draws his; that Demon's quickly dispatched by his own kind, never again to make another sound. The boss is the first to lay down his cards this time, his glowing eyes alight with certain triumph.
Spike watches as the Demon across from him lays down a straight flush, beginning with the nine of diamonds and ending with the King. "Good hand," he remarks as he starts laying down Spades. "Better hand," he finishes upon placing down, for all to see, the Ace of Spades. He grabs his basket of kittens, throws the chips in them, and jumps to his feet as the Demons all begin cussing and yelling. The brown kitten jumps onto his shoulder as Spike switches his game face on.
"I knew better than to think you blokes would play fair," he remarks as they come at him from all angles, but that's fine with him. He's been itching for a fight all night. He throws three off of him and into their boss before pulling a curved dagger from inside his trench. Its blade glistens in the poor lighting of the bar, looking both hungry and mean.
Spike drops to the floor, letting the Demon that was about to attack him from before topple into the two rushing him from the front. He leaps into the air, kicking back five more, and then swipes a head clean off its shoulders as he lands. He turns swiftly at the sound of a low hiss, like the kettle back in Giles' apartment just beginning to boil. Striking again with his blade, he smirks as he sees the Demon's forked tongue hit the blood and slime covered floor. "Told you that tongue was going to get you into trouble one of these nights."
The brown kitten on his shoulder mews a warning and lashes out with his claws, slicing into green hands before they can close around Spike's neck. Spike turns and kicks the Demon backwards, but three more rush him at once. He fights deftly, his punches swift and solid, and pauses only to grab a falling kitten and throw her back into the wicker basket with her companions.
The kitten on his shoulder meows again. The little guy's got his claws hooked solidly through Spike's leather jacket and into the Vampire's flesh, but he doesn't care. He's not sure what the cat's been doing, but he knows he owes tonight's wins to him. He turns again at his direction and drives his dagger straight into Lestate's chest.
Lestate falls back, screaming like a girl, as Spike draws his blade out of the Demon's flesh. He leaps into the stale air of the bar, kicking back another rush of Demons, and picks up another kitten as she falls out of the basket on his landing. The brown fellow mews again, and Spike understands just as he slashes off a pair of hands reaching into his basket. He can win this fight, but he doesn't like the odds of doing so without losing at least one kitten. And he does owe his wins to one of their litter mates, after all.
"It's been fun, boys," he says and pounces from one snarling, Demonic head to the next as he makes his way to the door.
"STOP HIM!" the leader hollers.
Spike grins. "You can try," he offers, stepping on a horn. The Exit sign glows just ahead of him. The kittens' cries hurry his pace, but he still turns as he hops down from walking on the Demons who couldn't tackle a ball properly if the bloody thing was given to them.
As he makes his final leap, he makes one last turn to look behind him and sends his dagger flying. "A party gift," he sneers as the dagger barrels straight for the Demons' leader, "for a good night. You don't have to return it." He chuckles, a sound far more dangerous than the snake Demon's hissing or any of their laughter. The sound dies in his throat as the snake one throws himself before his boss.
"Oh, well. Maybe next time," Spike dismisses the scene with the air of one who just doesn't care and plunges out the Exit into the night. He climbs quickly, hearing the Demons' leader bellow at his henchmen to follow him. A few manage to be hot on his trail, but he kills them quickly and silently with another dagger pulled from his boot.
"Silence," he hisses at the mewling kittens. The brown one leaps into the basket, and his mates actually hush as Spike pulls them all into the shadows. The Demons run by. His fingers curl with his desire to not run from the fight, but as the brown kitten begins to climb back up his body, Spike remembers why he's hiding tonight. It isn't for himself. He isn't afraid of those Demons. He could take them down pretty damn easily.
There's another reason why he's standing here in the shadows. Maybe he's gone soft. That reason does have a small, furry body, and Spike thinks he'd probably be pretty damn soft to touch. He turns his head as the kitten finally reaches his shoulder and finds himself peering directly into the feline's yellow green eyes, their noses touching. "What did you do in there, huh?" he asks him, certain the Demons are gone.
The kitten mews. Spike grins in the night. "Yeah," he agrees, "we all have our secrets." And it looks like, as of tonight, Spike's got one more secret to add to his ever growing list. "I need to take you lot to a friend of mine, but I think you'll stay with me." It's been a while since he's visited Mister Fantastico, but the old drag queen has never been able to turn down a furry face. "Sound like a good idea?" The brown kitten mews again and rubs his nose against Spike's.
Spike laughs. Yeah, he's got a new secret and a new chapter of his life, one that's filled with more good luck than a Vamp deserves and maybe even a little love, is starting with the addition of another presence in Spike's life who may look as gentle as Dawn but who, Spike is willing to bet, can bite when needed as hard as Angelus on his darkest night. "Let's go." His luck is changing; maybe it's time his heart did, too.
The End
Giles' Sunshine, 3-16-17, rated K+/PG
Characters: Giles/Buffy
They're both determined to take care of each other.
"Giles!" Buffy calls, jerking her Watcher awake.
He jumps to a sitting position, instinctively removing his spectacles and starting to clean them before he's even truly entirely awake. Through the fogginess of his natural vision, Rupert thinks he sees a puddle of his own drool looking up at him from the pages of the ancient text book he was studying and frowns deeply.
"Why do you keep doing this to yourself, Giles?" Buffy demands. "You're always on my case about doing my best, but you can't do your best if you're too darn tired to do anything!"
"Buffy, I - "
"You need to get your head out of these books!" the teenager persists. "We're doing this every morning now! Every morning, I come in here to train, and I find you face first in a puddle of drool! That's a Xander move, not something I expect from you, Giles, but you're too tired! Get some rest!"
He winces as he looks at her, wondering if she knows just how bright her blonde hair shimmers in the early morning light.
"Giles," Buffy says warningly as though she's the one in charge, as though she's the one who's got to keep him alive instead of vice versa.
"I . . . I . . . " he sputters, feeling almost like a disobedient schoolboy only that, if he was an actual schoolboy, he might have the right to look at her and see her beauty. He might have the right to admire her shapely curves, be alarmed by her disarming smile, or worry over her every second of every night and day - but, by God, he does have the right to the last for he is her Watcher!
"Learning never exhausts the mind, Buffy." He wonders where that quote come from - he's pretty certain he read it somewhere just last night - even as he can't help but to think that she exhausts his mind. There's many reasons why he spends his hours going over his books again and again until he can go straight to any passage they may need, and not the least of them is the fact that he is in a sore need of distraction from her beauty. And God, is she ever so beautiful!
Buffy rolls her eyes, looking every bit the teenager that she is and reminding him yet again that he shouldn't be having such naughty thoughts about a girl her age. His place here is to protect her, to guide her, and to guard her, to keep her alive so that she, in turn, can keep the world alive. It's not to be obsessed with her, especially with her beauty. He shouldn't even be noticing the way her hair looks this morning, and he certainly shouldn't feel that odd twitter in his heart when she smiles at him! If only she would smile again . . .
"That so sounds like something you Brits would say! Maybe learning doesn't exhaust the mind, Giles, but it definitely exhausts your eyes! You need to get some rest!" She softens a little as she adds, "Miss Calendar wouldn't want you living like this."
Ah, Jenny! He does miss her, but the ache isn't as terrible as it was when Angelus first took her from him. It isn't all consuming, and it isn't the reason he's here night after night, day after day . . .
"Look at you," Buffy says, grabbing hold of his hands and pulling him to his feet. "You can barely walk. Your clothes and hair are a mess. You - "
"My attire hardly matters in keeping you alive, Buffy."
Buffy cocks her head to one side, as though surprised at what he's just said. He wishes he could take back the words, but they're out in the open now, hanging between them. "Is that what this is about?" she asks softly. "Giles, I kicked the Master's ass. I'm going to kick Angelus' ass if Willow doesn't find the spell in time. I'm not going anywhere. You're not going to get rid of me that fast. I promise."
Suddenly, her arms are around him, and Giles doesn't dare move. He doesn't even dare breathe lest she hear the shakiness of his breath and know what her closeness is truly doing to him. But slowly, ever so slowly, he lowers his arms around her small frame, all too aware that the fate of the whole world rests on those slim, light shoulders that barely feel like they should be able to bench press anything, let alone stop all the hordes of Hell. "Buffy," he breathes her name, giving in to the shakiness he feels, but she pushes him away.
"Go."
"Excuse me?"
"Go home, Giles. Get some rest. Eat something. Drink something not alcoholic. Go home. Rest. I'll come check on you tonight."
"Buffy, I - "
"Go home," she instructs again with a very pointed expression, "or I will kick your ass home. Do you understand me?"
"Yes," he says, his lips sliding up into a tiny smile. "Yes," he repeats, placing his fogged glasses back onto the bridge of his nose where they belong and smiling a little more widely, "I do."
"Good." She folds her arms before her chest and watches as he gathers his things and leaves, all the time wondering who really is supposed to be in charge between them, who is taking care of whom, and if she has even the slightest inkling of how much she shakes him to his very core. He should be mourning Jenny, but instead all he can think is about Buffy. He'll pour over his books more at home, he promises himself as he leaves the library, and Buffy's stern glower, behind. He'll never stop researching, never stop studying, because everything he reads is something from which he might gleam a little bit of knowledge, and the more knowledge he possesses, the more likely he is to be able to keep her alive and to keep her happy sunshine bubbling in his life.
The End
Good Food, Good Friends, posted 4-2-13, rated K/G
Characters: Ensemble
Good food's always been known to make for good company.
"Any one for tea?" A cacophony of complaints instantly filled his library, but all that changed when he set down his tray.
"Cookies!" Xander exclaimed, his face lighting up with enough gleeful excitement to make any cook proud.
"Actually," Willow commented, "I think those are tea cakes."
"Whatever they are, I bet they're good! Hey, G man, do we have to drink tea with our pinkies out if we get some cookies?"
"Giles," Buffy interrupted, fingers boldly grasping one of the sweets, "what's England like?"
Giles smiled, his eyes twinkling. Nothing else has ever brought people together like good food.
The End
