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Author's Chapter Notes:
This was written for Seasonal Spuffy's fairytale challenge. Pure Fluff.
Title: Once Upon a Wish (April 7, 2006)
Author: Slaymesoftly
Rating: strong R
Disclaimer: Joss said we could play with them, so I did.
Distribution: Written for Seasonal Spuffy 2006 – do not take without permission
Beta’d by the very picky and talented Amyb, who did her best to rescue this fic from suckiness.
The banner (which you can't see, because I don't know how to put them up here) is by the very generous and talented kargrif

AN: The challenge was to write a fairy tale. As you will see, I combined several of them into this fluffy little fic. Takes place sometime in a not-so-canon early Season V, following a summer in which Spike has fallen into the habit of tagging along with Buffy on her patrols so as to get his “spot of violence” in for the night. Although they snark at and insult each other regularly, they have learned that they make a very formidable fighting team and they have forged a mutually respectful working relationship that may be growing into a somewhat reluctant friendship. As is often the case in my fics, the effects of Willow’s “My Will be Done” spell have left some uncomfortable and lingering memories of a short-lived, but much more pleasant relationship between our blond heroes.

(For my friends in the UK, in this country a “cot” is a narrow bed, often used for camping or extra guests.)


Chapter One - Once Upon a Time…


“Tell me again why you’re following me?” In spite of her words, Buffy’s voice did not hold any trace of real anger, but rather the easy bantering of someone who knew she would not be taken seriously.

“Because I haven’t had a good tussle in weeks and that ugly thing you’re following looks like it could be a bit of fun.”

“Hello? Slayer here. That’s MY demon, Spike!”

The vampire’s lower lip crept out in a pout and Buffy’s eyes were unwittingly drawn to it before she realized what she was doing and quickly looked away.

( Damn Willow and her stupid spells! I never used to look at Spike’s mouth – except maybe to see if his fangs were out. Okay, looking away now. Not looking at Spike’s mouth.)

“Don’t be greedy, Slayer. You get the first chance to beat up on things every night. I’m the one with all the built-up frustration, ain’t I?”

Buffy shot a quick glance at him, wondering if he’d deliberately chosen that word.

( There’s no way he knows how Riley left me hanging last night. He can’t possibly know that I… He doesn’t even know we…, and if he did, he would never dare…He’s just being Spike. )

The vampire gave her his most innocent look, wondering to himself about the sudden increase in her heart rate and the panicked look she had sent his way.

( Bloody hell. Could there be trouble in paradise? Maybe the Slayer has a bit of frustration to work off too?)

The vampire unconsciously began to move towards her, unsure what he was going to do, but unwilling to overlook an opportunity to throw a kink into her relationship with the burly commando.

(Why is he looking at me like that? And why am I noticing how he looks at me? And why is he moving closer? It’s not bad enough my boyfriend can’t tell when I don’t get off, or can’t be bothered to do anything about it, I’ve got to have a sexy vampire standing here reminding me of how he…Don’t go there, Buffy!)

It was too late. Buffy’s memories of the way Spike had kissed and caressed her the previous year forced themselves out where she had no choice but to look at them and wonder what it would have been like to have had the vampire to herself long enough to find out if his love-making lived up to the promise of his foreplay. Her eyes glazed over as she thought about the lust he’d been able to inspire with just a few kisses.

(I wish I had a boyfriend who could turn me on the way this stupid vampire does—did! The way the stupid vampire DID.)

Spike cocked his head, searching her face for some clue as to where her mind had gone, but before he could open his mouth in an attempt to provoke another reaction, they spotted the ugly, ogre-like demon they’d been chasing and sprinted after it, jostling each other good-naturedly as each fought to be first to get to the creature.

Just as they caught up to the beast, it waved one long, ropey arm, opening a portal directly in front of them. Buffy’s momentum was carrying her into the glowing circle; she shrieked Spike’s name as she automatically reached for the hand he’d stretched out towards her. With a sigh of relief, she felt him grasp her hand and begin to pull her out of the swirling lights; the sigh changed to a groan, however, when the demon loomed up behind the vampire, shoving him in the back and causing him to fall in with her.

Buffy kept her hand in Spike’s strong grip as they tumbled through the portal, landing heavily on a pile of soft, sweet-smelling hay in what appeared to be a sun-kissed meadow. Buffy was lying on top of the vampire, her face pressing into his chest as she gasped for the air that the fall had knocked out of her. Spike’s arms rested easily across her back, holding her lightly in place while she got her breath back.

He was thoroughly enjoying the feel of her soft body lying on his--until he suddenly realized where he was and recognized the source of the light and warmth around them. Suddenly Buffy’s lean, muscular cushion was gone as with a panicked yell, the vampire threw her off and began rolling around in the grass screaming and trying to cover himself with his coat.

Buffy watched with bemusement for a minute, then broke into a grin as she realized what was going on.

“Stop that, you big baby,” she laughed, nudging him with her foot as he cowered under his leather coat. “You’re not on fire.”

He was still for a few seconds, then peered cautiously out from under the protective leather.

“I’m not, am I?” he said, clearly surprised.

He stuck a tentative hand out into the warm sunshine, breaking into a smile when nothing happened. Hesitantly, he sat up, turning his face to the sun and basking in the unfamiliar glow.

“I wonder why I’m not on fire?” he mused, his face still tilted up toward the sun’s warm radiance.

“Maybe you’re not a vampire here,” Buffy offered with a trace of wistfulness. She leaned closer and touched his chest with the flat of her hand, trying to feel a heartbeat, then ran her fingers lightly up to his neck to feel for a pulse. The vampire was frozen in place, afraid to move as her hands traveled around his face and chest, searching in vain for signs of life. Something about the hopeful look on her face made him want desperately for her theory to be true, even though he knew already that it was not.

Before she could withdraw her hand, he shifted into game face, saying lightly, “Nope, still a vampire, pet.”

“Oh,” Buffy said softly. “You are, aren’t you?” She struggled to hide her disappointment, withdrawing her hand as he stared at her intently.

“What if I wasn’t, Slayer?”

“You ARE, Spike. There is no ‘what if’’.” She turned her face away, unwillingly to look into those perceptive eyes.

“Some things are different,” he growled. “Maybe I’m not evil here.”

“You look just as evil to me,” she said dubiously. “Just, you know, with the potential for a suntan or, at least, freckles.”

“Do I really? Are you sure? Maybe you’re not looking closely enough…”

His face, once again back to its startlingly handsome human features, was moving closer to hers as he spoke and she unconsciously leaned towards him before recalling what he was. She bit her lip and moved away, standing up quickly to avoid looking at his disappointed face.

In a treetop a short distance away, a fairy godmother muttered to herself in disgust.

“What is wrong with that girl? I go to all the trouble to give her a chance to spend some time with the vampire away from her friends, and does she take advantage of it? No! She tells him he’s still evil and stands up, wasting a perfectly good pile of hay and a warm sunny day. It’s not like orchestrating that whole ‘chase the demon, fall into the portal’ thing was easy,” she grumbled, glaring at the oblivious blond girl.

Buffy pulled a pouting Spike to his feet, then dropped his hand quickly and began walking away.

“Come on, lazy. You can practice basking while we walk around and try to figure out where we are.”

They followed a meandering dirt path that neither had noticed before, enjoying the strangely relaxing atmosphere of the unfamiliar dimension into which they had fallen and walking in the warm sunshine, feeling no real hurry to get anywhere.

I suppose I should be trying to figure out how to get home from here, Buffy sighed to herself as she strolled along the path, sneaking sideways glances at the vampire now walking quietly beside her. Except for that brief, violent encounter almost a year before when Spike had been wearing the Gem of Amara, Buffy had never seen him in full sun. The one-of-kind vampire regularly risked immolation by dashing in and out of buildings in the daytime, covering his extremely flammable body with a ratty blanket; even so, he’d been wary of the world and being unprotected from its sun. Now that he had been walking for a while, however, he seemed completely adjusted to the idea that he could enjoy the sun’s warmth with no thought of bursting into flames.

As they strolled side by side, their shoulders brushing occasionally, they found themselves moving closer and closer together until it just seemed natural for Spike to take the hand that was brushing against his and hold it lightly. Buffy stiffened, her sense of how nice and somehow “right” it felt at war with her ingrained lessons about the danger of allowing a vampire to get too close. Something about this soft, warm world seemed to be dampening the normal defensive responses she would have had to Spike’s attempts at physical contact if they were still in Sunnydale.

She let go with some reluctance, stepping away so that he couldn’t reach for her again. An angry scream had her whirling around, seeking the source, but she saw nothing but the equally puzzled vampire also peering around for whatever could have made the furious sound. They stood, back to back in fighting stances, completely alert to any sign of attack. When there was no follow-up sound and no sign of any approaching danger, they looked at each other and shrugged, relaxing again; they were finding it difficult to believe that there could be anything in this strange, but pleasant, dimension that could be of much danger to the two experienced warriors.

The path soon took an abrupt turn, bringing into sight a lovely little pond with a small bubbling fountain gently sprinkling the pink lilies floating there. Buffy gave a small squeal of appreciation and, uncharacteristically heedless of any potential danger, ran towards it, falling to her knees at the edge and dipping a hand into the clear water. She splashed some on her face and took a small sip from her hand before turning to see if her companion was as delighted with the little oasis as she was.

“Oh, Spike, isn’t it pretty? Like something out of a fairyta—Spike? Spike? Where are you? Where did you go?”

She searched all around, but there was no sign of the blond vampire, just a few friendly frogs hopping on and off the stones at the edge of the pond. With a stab of fear, Buffy began to examine the ground carefully, wondering if Spike’s immunity to the sunlight had suddenly expired leaving him to dust while she played in the water. When she found no ashes or dust, she breathed a sigh of relief, then raised her voice in irritation.

“This isn’t funny, Spike! Come out from wherever you are. Spiiiiike!” There was no answer as she glared around the peaceful setting. “I’m going to kill that stupid vampire,” she grumbled, torn between staying beside the pretty little pond and leaving to search for the missing vampire.

One of the bigger frogs was hopping around her feet, bumping into her leg and croaking angrily. She looked down at it in confusion.

“I don’t know much about frogs, but shouldn’t you be afraid of me?” She squealed as it tried to jump up on her. “What are you doing, you dumb frog? Leave me alone—you’ll give me warts!”

“Ribbit, ribbit,” the frog replied, glaring at her with eyes that flashed with…amber?

She bent over to look at the frog more closely and saw that, along with the very angry amber eyes, it had a strangely wrinkled forehead and tiny fangs sticking from its mouth. “Ribbit” it tried to snarl. “Ribbit, ribbit, ribbit!!!”

“Spike?” Buffy squatted down to the frog’s level and reached a curious hand towards it. “Is that you? Has something turned you into a frog?”

She glanced around quickly to see if Willow—who was constantly threatening the vampire with slimy greenness—had somehow found them; but she saw no sign of anyone except herself and the frog that was bumping against her so persistently. With a sigh, she picked him up, cradling his body in her hands while she looked him over.

“Well, you look like a pretty healthy frog – but I don’t know what to do with you. I mean, I’m not a witch; I don’t know anything about breaking spells.”

She could have sworn that the frog had just growled at her and she was certain that she had seen it roll its eyes.

“What?” she responded with indignation. “I DON’T! I’m a slayer, not a…” Her voice trailed off as she remembered how frogs got turned back into people in fairy tales. “Oh. Oh, no. No you don’t, buster. I am NOT kissing a frog! Even if it is a Spike frog – and I didn’t mean that I would kiss a Spike that wasn’t a frog…er,you, if you weren’t…I just meant…gah!”

The frog just continued to stare at her; its fangs and wrinkles disappeared as the small face took on a pleading expression, and it licked her hand with its long, sticky tongue.

“Ewwww! Spike! You licked me! You eat bugs and you licked me with that tongue.”

“Ribbit,” the frog croaked apologetically. “Ribbit?”

“Oh, for--- this better work, or you are so…so… still a frog,” she finished lamely.

Lifting the eager amphibian towards her face, she suddenly remembered that if the kiss broke the spell, she would be holding a 160-pound vampire and she stopped before she got him to her mouth. Ignoring the frustrated growl from the unhappy frog, she knelt down and carefully set him on the ground.

“Shhhh,” she soothed at his questioning croak. “I just didn’t want to drop you. And keep that disgusting tongue in your mouth,” she added quickly as she knelt down in front of him.

Lying down on her stomach so that her head was level with the frog, she waited while he hopped carefully up to her face; then she pursed her lips and shut her eyes. Before she had time to cringe away from the frog’s cold, wet mouth, it had changed into a pair of soft lips that were pressing against hers and moving around expertly. Keeping her eyes shut, she felt herself being pulled towards and against a lean, muscular body that felt almost too familiar.

The tentative touch of a most un-frog-like tongue to her lower lip was all it took to cause her to open her mouth and give in to the bone-melting kisses she remembered from almost a year before. When she was – rarely – being honest with herself, she could admit that the thing that had made her the most angry about Willow’s little “my will be done” spell was the fact that, for the rest of her life she would have the memory of those kisses. A memory against which any other man that she kissed would be measured and, she feared, found wanting.





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