Doing Their Best by lovesperoxide
Summary: Set in S7 after First Date. On a day overlooked by her friends, Spike does his best to give Buffy something special on her birthday.
Categories: General Fics Characters: None
Genres: Romance
Warnings: Sexual Situations
Series: Seven
Chapters: 3 Completed: No Word count: 3273 Read: 4467 Published: 07/26/2010 Updated: 07/26/2010
Chapter 1 by lovesperoxide
Author's Notes:
I did some un-mathematical calculations and figured that Buffy’s birthday is usually around episode 12-14, making it around Potential, First Date or The Killer in Me. Also, it probably wasn’t overlooked by the Scoobies”but it’s my fic and that’s the way I want it! *pouts*
She’d looked everywhere; upstairs, down in the basement and every room in between. This was ridiculous, she’d chided to herself. There were only so many places a bleached vampire could hide. She tried to turn a blind eye to the picture her mind painted of him stolen away and chained up in another cave, a supersized and super strong ubervamp as his prison guard. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “Ohh”, she whined quietly. They just couldn’t keep taking him away from her.

She poked her head in on a group of gossiping Potentials. “Have you guys seen Spike?”

She heaved a sigh when they replied with a chorus of, “No” and “Sorry, Buffy.”

She shot a look out at the pitch black outside, surprised when an anxious shiver shot down her spine.

Where could he be?

She tried to grip onto any sense of reason. It was night time. He was a vampire. And vampires equalled creatures of said night time. He was probably just out there doing his vampire-y thing. Yeah, that was it.

She tried to take a calming breath. But all it did was cause her heart to leap into her throat.

Oh God. They’d taken him again, she just knew it. Those ugly, vision impaired Bringers. She could picture it uncomfortably clearly; some horrible demon scraping more tribal symbols into his perfect skin and muscles. Buffy hurried to the front door in a frenzy, grabbing her coat and whatever weapons she could lay her hands on.

Gripping the door-handle, she jumped back with a startled gasp when it twisted under her grasp and the door swung open to reveal...Spike!

“Oh.” He stepped back in surprise at the sight of the broadsword clutched under her arm. “We gearin’ up for something?”

She could have hugged and squeezed the life of him in her relief.

“Where the hell have you been?”

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he swagged on inside and shut the door behind him. “Worried ‘bout me, pet?”

“No,” she deadpanned. “I just let myself get all beat up by a prehistoric super vampire to save your ass and then let you go gallivanting around all...willy-nilly!”

“Didn’t mean for you to worry, luv.”

Resting her weight casually on the sword, she blinked and pursed her lips. “...who said anything about worried?” She glanced away uncertainly as a silence descended on them.

“So!” He clapped his hands together and swiped a stake which protruded from her coat pocket. “Up for a patrol?”


It seemed to be a quiet night for demonic activity as Slayer and Vampire walked side by side through Restfield Cemetery. Noting a purpose in his stride, she let Spike lead the way. She was happy to hang back and follow him. It felt nice looking over a guy’s shoulder for once; Spike’s shoulder. The deep tranquillity of the night atmosphere was something she’d always enjoyed about patrolling, but she’d never realised how much better it could be sharing it with someone.

The path he was taking was a familiar one, and soon they were approaching the one crypt she could confidently say that she knew as well as the back of her hand. It saddened her that his once homely crypt now lay dark and abandoned. But it saddened her all the more that he was passing it without a second glance.

“Spike!” she called after him. “Don’t you...want to take a look?”

He turned to her with a look of indifference. “Not especially. Why?”

“It was your home. You lived here!” Approaching the crypt, she leant this way and that, trying to peek through the iron grills. “You must be the tiniest bit interested to see how it is.”

“Never pegged you as a sentimentalist, Slayer. ‘sides, I’ve had plenty of homes over the years.” He shifted impatiently. “Never would’ve gotten anywhere if I’d clung onto all of them now, would I? Come on, we’ve still got more ground to cover.”

“Better be careful there, Spike. Your old misery guts are starting to show in your old age”are those candles?” She bounded over to the door. “I’m gonna take a look!”

“Look, Slayer, we might as well just finish patrolling then you can””

She crossed her arms adamantly. “Half an hour and we haven’t seen a single limb of demon. I don’t think we’ll be seeing any action tonight. I don’t know why you’re being all avoidy, it’s just a crypt.” She pushed the door open, wincing at the piercing grind of metal as the hinges protested.

She didn’t hear as he muttered, “Oh, balls,” and hurried after her.

“If I didn’t know any better,” she went on to say, “I’d say you were turning into Giles; all stuffy and slave-driver-y and...English.”

“Oi! I am nothing like your Watcher! I may be English...and a man... but that doesn’t make me one iota like Giles! He’s all””

He bumped into her and she spun around sharply.

“Spike, what”what is this?”

To be continued...
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