Spike
It’s a funny feeling a Slayer gets when someone’s followin’ him. Or in this particular case, something. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up an’ I get this feeling that something’s going to happen. Just like Peter Parker does before a fight. You know, with that whole Spidey sense business.
My sensitive ears pique at the sound of stealthy footsteps behind me. I turn ‘round.
Nothing.
Again I hear footsteps. This time farther out into the distant trees.
So much for a nice, bloody walk.
I reluctantly throw my cigarette t’ the ground and follow the sounds deeper into the dark woods.
After a few minutes of wandering aimlessly into the trees, I stop, sensing again that something is behind me.
“I don’t ‘ave time for games,” I state firmly. “Show yourself.”
I hear a snicker.
“Very intuitive for a soon-to-be victim,” says a voice cryptically. I turn around to face what I am sure is a vampire. If the horrid vamp face isn't an indicator then the putrid smell definitely is.
“Vampire huh?” I confirm. I shake my head in disappointment. “I expected so much more from Sunnydale. Was kinda hoping it was demon free.”
“Well let me lay all your expectations to rest kid,” he grunts confidently, attacking head on.
He misses of course, courtesy of my amazingly superior reflexes. I kick him in the back an’ he falls to the ground.
I smirk, thinking Sunnydale isn’t half as bad as I thought it would be.
“Thanks for showing up, mate,” I taunt, getting into fighting stance. “I needed a spot of violence t’ end the night.”
He looks up at me with fear in his demon eyes.
***
Spike walked onto the deserted street, brushing the vamp dust off of his shirt. He had a lot of thinking to do.
Where did that vamp come from? Were there more of them? What the hell was a vampire doing in Sunnydale? He thought he’d left the Slayer stuff back in England where it belonged. There were so many questions.
I wish Warrick were here to guide me. Never thought I’d ever say that.
“Bloody hell,” he mumbled, shaking his head and lighting up a cigarette to ease his suddenly frazzled mind. “One measly vamp and I’m turning into Spike the nancy boy.”
He suddenly spotted a figure in the near distance. Blonde hair. Admittedly sexy legs.
He smirked to himself.
“Looks like the night just got more interesting,” he said to himself, throwing the cigarette to the ground and quietly jogging up behind her.
“Hello, cutie,” he purred into her ear. Alarmed, she turned around quickly, punching him soundly in the nose.
---
Buffy
“Boys are such idiots!” I vent to myself, kicking a small rock on the ground. After spending an unsuccessful night patrolling, I decide, instead, just to head back home.
Not that I would have been able to focus on dusting vamps tonight anyway. Not with frustrating thoughts of Angel the frustrating frustrater on my mind. God, why did he have to be so confusing?
Here I am, throwing myself at him, and he’s either totally clueless, or totally cruel. Which would make him an idiot either way I guess. The thing is, I know he likes me. Probably more than I like him.
Then why won’t he have sex with me? Oh, right, because he thinks I’m too good for him. He thinks I’m too pure for him to take my virginity. He’s the closest thing I’ve ever had resembling a boyfriend, and he’s the only one who knows what I am. No one could ever understand except for him. And maybe Xander. But I don’t want to have sex with Xander.
So, after years of making eyes at each other and fighting demons beside one another, he still won’t take me, why? Oh yeah, I remember. It all comes down to guys being idiots.
Like that stupid British guy from today. What was his name again? Spike. What kind of name was Spike anyway? And he had the nerve to talk about my name?
I kick another small rock in irritation and hope that I never have to see him again with his shocking blonde hair and even more shocking blue eyes.
I continue to walk home in a deep funk, not even noticing when someone runs up behind me, whispering in my ear, “Hello, cutie.”
Quick as a flash, I spin around, punching the guy in the nose.
---
“Oi! What the hell Summers! What the bloody hell wazat for?”
She looked at him apologetically as he cupped his face. Nothing was broken she hoped.
“Sorry Spike! I didn’t know it was you!”
“Oh, so if you’d’ve known it was me, you’d’ve felt better about it? Where’d you learn how to hit like that anyway?”
His ability to sneak up on people was a talent he’d acquired over the years. How she was able to best him in the reflexes department, he did not know. He was actually suffering from hurt pride more than he was a sore nose.
She shook her head in slight confusion. How the hell did he pounce on her like that? Her sensitive ears should have picked up on his footsteps before he caught up to her. She must have been too involved in her thoughts.
“I shouldn’t even be saying sorry to you, you know? Who goes around following girls at night anyway, you big freak?”
“Oh, yeah. Right,” he continued to nurse his aching nose. “I spend my nights ominously stalking half-brained twits like yourself. You caught me.”
“I appreciate the sarcasm.”
They began to walk down Rovello, towards their houses.
“What’re you doin’ out here anyway Summers? Shouldn’t you be at home playing with Barbies or something?”
“Oh, yeah, of course, since I’m still in the 2nd grade and enjoy the activities of a 7 year old.” She shook her head. “I had things to think about so I’m out getting fresh air.”
“Right. An’ you decided t’ take a walk at night, by yourself? Smart one, princess. There’s a lot of nasties out there, ya know?” He skipped ahead, facing her and making creepy ghoul sounds.
“You’re a riot Spike,” she deadpanned. “I can take care of myself.”
He continued walking beside her. “Yeah, sure. That’s what the girl from the Thriller video said before Michael Jackson and his zombie mates attacked her.”
She laughed genuinely. With the full moon reflecting on her face softly, she looked even prettier than the other two times he’d seen her. Granted, the last time he’d seen her, she was a scowling bitch. Tonight she was cute.
She had on a short black skirt that revealed those amazingly sexy legs of hers. She wore a form fitting white tube top, one of those cute, trendy leather jackets, and a pair of what he liked to call “come-fuck-me boots.”
If her aim was to get assaulted tonight then, by golly, she was in luck because her outfit just screamed, “Come and get me predators!”
He would definitely have to keep an eye her. Make sure she didn’t get killed on her dim-witted and ill-advised nights out by herself.
“It’s fine, mom. I was out patrolling. I’m good at this,” she waved off absently.
“Patrolling?” He raised an eyebrow.
Her eyes went wide. “Uh, strolling! I… said, uh, I was out strolling. I’m good at the whole strolling thing. See? Here’s me strolling.” She laughed nervously.
He gave her an odd look. “I knew you were a bit daft Summers. I didn’t imagine you were a nut case too.”
“I’m not a nut case,” she cried, offended. “Like I said, I have things on my mind. Big, important, world-coming-to-an-end kind of things.”
He snorted. “Right. You prob’ly just got your knickers twisted over some twattish bloke.”
“He is not twattish!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms against her chest. “I don’t even know if he’s a bloke.” She pouted. “What’s a bloke anyway?”
He chuckled, thinking that she looked right adorable with her full lips jutting out like that.
“Trouble in paradise?” he wondered, uncharacteristically willing to lend an ear.
She eyed him suspiciously. “Like you care.”
“For a limited time only. Take it or leave it.”
“None of your business bleach boy.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself blondie.” They walked in silence for a moment.
“It’s just… I’m totally frustrated, and might I add, superbly confused with the male species!” she spilled finally. “I can’t take it anymore!”
Spike chuckled. “What’s this guy’s name anyway.”
“Angel.”
“Pft. Sounds like a poofter to me.”
She ignored that. “I mean, here I am putting myself out there. Like, way out there. And it’s like he’s majorly clueless. I know he likes me. I can tell. I mean, us women, we can tell these things, you know? We’ve kissed, made out a couple of times, but the guy’s like a freakin’ saint! I don’t know what to do.”
Spike thought for a moment. “Maybe he’s gay.”
She shook her head vehemently. “He’s not gay.”
“Well with a poofter name like Angel he has to be—”
“He’s not gay Spike.”
“You think he’s having sex with another girl?”
“No way.”
“Another guy?”
“Spike! You know what, never mind. I don’t know why I even brought it up with you. Maybe you’re right and I am a nut case.”
Spike sighed. “Look Betty—”
“Buffy.”
“Whatever. You women are so bloody fickle. You get a guy who wants to shag your brains out and you get all ‘oh, he only wants me for my body,’” he mocked in a high pitched voice. “Then you finally get a guy who doesn’t want to shag your brains out and you’re all ‘oh, why doesn’t he want to shag me!’ Really, you women make us men insane. You should be flattered this guy doesn’t wanna fuck you silly. Either that or he’s gay.”
“I don’t want him to… fuck me. I just want to go farther than the here and there kisses, you know? I think I’m ready.” She chose not to add the part about her being scared that nobody else would want her. Not knowing what she was anyway. Angel accepted her for what she was. Without fear. Without feeling inadequate.
They stopped at Buffy’s porch. “Well, if you want, I could be the other guy. The one who only wants you for your body.” He did the sexy tongue thing, raising his eyebrows up and down lasciviously.
She rolled her eyes at his antics, genuinely disgusted. And on the other hand, she wondered what exactly he could do with that tongue. She shook her head, trying to shake off the warm feeling she got at the thought.
“Goodnight, you pig.” She turned around, gladly heading into the house.
“Night my sweet little goldilocks,” he teased, knowing he was pushing her buttons. “Can’t wait for the beach tomorrow. And remember, if Poof won’t do the job, my offer’s still on the table.”
Buffy slammed the door on his voice, vowing never to confide in Spike ever again.
---
“ ‘Night, mom!” Buffy called before closing the door to her room.
A figure was already sitting on her bed.
“Angel,” Buffy gasped, not expecting him to be in her bedroom.
“Buffy, we need to talk.”
She sighed, taking off her jacket and hanging it up in the closet. “Don’t we always.”
“I’m serious Buffy. It’s not safe to go out there by yourself right now. I spoke to Giles. He said there’s been an unusually high amount of demon activity these past two nights.”
“I know Angel. I can take care of myself. Slayer is me remember?”
“Where were you tonight Buffy?”
“I was out patrolling. Where else would I be?”
“Didn’t look like patrolling from my vantage point.”
She looked up at him sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He looked back at her guiltily. “I saw you with some guy.”
Her eyes widened. “You were spying on me? God, Angel I can’t even believe you right now!”
He got up from the bed and walked to where she was standing. “No! I wasn’t spying on you. I was here in your room waiting on you to come, and I happened to see you through the window. You know I would never spy on you, Buffy.”
She calmed at that.
“So… who was he?” he asked tentatively.
Buffy sighed. “He’s Ms. Calendar’s nephew. He just moved in a few days ago. He’s icky and annoying, and I had the ultimate misfortune of running into him after patrol tonight. That’s all.”
“He knows you’re the Slayer?”
“No, Angel. No.”
She could see Angel’s body relax.
She eyed him teasingly. “What? Did you think he was my new boyfriend or something?”
“No,” Angel replied a bit too quickly. “Yes,” he admitted.
She wrapped her arms around his body, laying her head on his chest.
He embraced her.
“You know I only have eyes for you,” she assured him.
He shook his head. “You deserve so much better Buffy. Once I kill this demon inside of me—”
“Lay with me,” she whispered softly, cutting him off.
She took his hand, leading him to the bed where he held her all night.
---
Freshly showered, Spike threw on a pair of basketball shorts and crashed into bed. He grabbed the remote off the dresser and turned on the television, surfing the channels and finding absolutely nothing.
He threw the clicker somewhere onto his bed and began doing push-ups. It’s what he did to release nervous energy.
Tonight, while fighting the vamp, he seemed confident on the outside, but on the inside, he was shocked shitless. He knew there were demons out there in the world, but his hometown in England had its own Bouche d'Enfer. Or as Warrick used to call it, the mouth of Hell. Not many places could boast such a thing. He hadn’t expected to come in contact with any demons for a long time.
He finished his push-ups and began pacing the room uneasily. ‘I know what I’ll do,’ he thought. ‘I’ll call the Watcher’s Council tomorrow. As much as I hate those pillocks, they’ll know what’s going on here.’
He went to the window, opening it up to let some air rush in. As he was doing so, he glanced over at Buffy’s window.
It was open and he could see her with some guy. They were standing in the middle of her bedroom holding each other like they were in a soddy scene from A Walk to Remember.
He scoffed when he deduced that the guy was probably the poofy Angel character. He watched as she led him to the bed but he didn’t want to see any more after that. It was disgustingly romantic and he wanted no bloody part of it.
It looked like Buffy was going to get her wish after all.
He sighed, turning from the window and falling into bed dreaming about demons and green eyes.
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