Chapter 5: Every Maiden needs a Knight, every Knight a Trusty Steed.
Generousness- a trait of being liberal in giving or sharing. Characterized by nobility and forbearance in thought or behaviour; magnanimous.
Cont…
“Holy Geez Louise!”
Spike stared, dumbfounded at the blond before him. Partially surprised to find another stranger at his door, but more shocked by the awestruck expression radiating from him. And was he holding something? Spike allowed his annoyed gaze to travel down towards the now speechless boy’s hands. Cake?
“Huh?” More of a snort then a question finally broke free from between the Brit’s parted, still sneering, lips.
That seemed to break the spell. “You look just like Timothy Dalton in License to Kill!” It came out hushed and excited, appreciative eyes swelling.
“What’s that?” He looked back up at the now bouncing young man.
“Oh! OH! English! My mistake! You’re more like a young Elrond of Rivendell then a Bond!”
Spike arched a brow. “Am I now?”
“Stoic too! So mysterious! It’s just like an Elvin king to--”
“Look boy!” he silenced him, “I’m not a bloody Elvin anything! Jus’ a bloke, like you.” He looked him up and down. “Well, close enough anyway, “ he said, rolling his eyes.
“I’m Andrew!” he stuck his cake filled hands towards Spike. “Your neighbour, friend, and humble servant!” he giggled nervously.
He glanced down at the treat again. “Am I supposed to shake ‘em or eat ‘em?”
Andrew’s head jerked towards the shaking plate he held and back up. “Oh!” he squeaked, “It’s Tarvokian pound cake.”
Spike simply stared.
“TNG?” Andrew’s eyes grew wide. “Worf prepared it for Cadet Crusher for his first visit back aboard Enterprise-D from Starfleet Academy in 2369!” he gasped.
“What… in the name of God, “ he glanced upwards matter-of-factly, “are you goin’ on ‘bout?”
“Star Trek?” He waited for any sign of recognition, when none appeared he continued. “Only one of the greatest shows ever--”
“Show eh?” Spike cut him off, “well if it’s a show num-nuts then how the hell do you know how this soddin’ make believe cake is made?” Andrew opened his mouth to answer only to be stifled with the raise of Spike’s hand. “Never mind, yeah, I don’t want to know.”
“It’s for you,” Andrew replied, now a little defeated, “Welcome to the building?” He hung his head, questioning, awaiting reassurance.
He couldn’t handle the young man’s sulking. “Yeah, yeah. Come on in then.” Backing away, gesturing through the threshold.
Andrew bounced once more, skipping into the apartment. “Wow,” he took in the setting, “looks so different then mine.” He turned towards his host. “I mean it’s nice, you could definitely use some posters or figurines or something, but it’s tidy! Very you. Minimalist, like the walls could give way to a hidden room, like you have a secret identity you’re trying to hide!” Spike’s features tightened, growing worried as his company spoke. “Everyone thought he was just a man… but soon they discovered he was--”
Spike couldn’t take anymore. “Oi!” Silence. “Enough with the conspiracy theories! Jus’ a regular bloke remember?” He lied.
Andrew set the cake on the bar. “You don’t have to be such a sensitive sally! I was just messing around.”
“Right. Jus’ not used to havin’ anyone pokin’ ‘round in my personal life is all.” He kicked the ground.
“It’s not exactly poking unless you actually do have a secret identity. Which would be totally awesome by the way!”
Nervousness flashed upon Spike’s face once more. “Sorry to disappoint,” he recovered, “but I’m as boring as they come mate.”
“Mate?” Andrew beamed, “I’m your mate? That’s like best friends in Britalian right? Two rogue warriors! We’ll be like Han and Chewy, like Picard and Riker, Frodo and--”
Spike grabbed him by his shoulders and shook, hard. “Get a grip boy! We jus’ bloody met!” Andrew’s face fell, causing Spike to soften a bit. “So there’s plenty o’ time to get acquainted with one another, no point rushin’ it, yeah.”
“Right.” Andrew nodded in agreement, “a real bond must be forged in the fires of trust and brotherhood, in--”
“And… if you’re gonna suffer a chance in bleedin’ hell, you’ll stop right there. I don’t know how much more of this mordor-galactic-trek-bond what-not I can take.” He stated.
“You do watch!” Andrew whispered as he threw himself at Spike, crushing him into an enormous hug.
Spike was too stunned to protest.
“Uhhhh-huuum.” The clearing of someone’s voice came from the still open doorway.
Spike’s horrified eyes snapped towards the sound. Andrew kept hugging.
Buffy just giggled, “Am I interrupting something?”
“No!” he said it too quickly, pushing his captor away, “We’re havin’ cake!” He slammed his eyes shut the moment the comment left his lips.
“Is that right?” A sinister grin spread wide across her face.
“Buffy!” Andrew immediately rushed to her, ignoring the brutal treatment.
She delicately wrapped her arms around him. “Hi Andrew.”
Spike glared, tilting his head to the side. “You two best pals then?”
The blond boy replied first. “Oh yes! Miss Buffy is the ‘mistress o’ the house’,” he said in a horrible British accent, “she takes care of us.” He squeezed her then.
Buffy rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“She’s just being modest,” Andrew petted her hair innocently, gazing at her, “she’s a guardian angel.”
“Andrew stop!” She kept it light but still pushed him off of herself, fixing her hair back into place.
Spike snorted at the comment. If she was a bloody angel I don’t think I’d be in quite the trouble I am.
“No really!” he said earnestly, “she once got my ten inch limited edition Gandolf un-stuck from the treacherous mouth of the garbage disposal without injury!” he sighed loudly, placing a hand over his heart, “I have been indebted to her since that faithful day.”
Buffy’s cheeks flamed. “It was nothing, really.”
Andrew scoffed.
Spike’s brow soared to new heights. He strode closer to the two blondes “Well, well. Aren’ you just a livin’ breathin’ hero.”
“Shut up Spike!” Buffy warned playfully, turning a deeper crimson under his seductive stare. Is he flirting?
“Your name is Spike?” Andrew interjected, stunned.
Both Buffy and Spike turned towards him suddenly. Buffy’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling a giggle.
“There a problem with that?” he said, posturing.
Andrew shook his head, denying any such issue.
“You know, you two looked pretty cozy a moment ago for not even knowing each other’s names,” her eyes danced with mischief, “how does that work exactly? No talking, just what? Cuddling and cake eating?” she berated, “how new age.”
Spike zeroed in on the girl before him, ready to bite back. Only he was interrupted.
“Oh he knew my name!” Andrew chirped, “I think he’s just the strong silent type.”
Spike’s eyes popped from his skull. “Bloody hell! Can’t a bloke catch a soddin’ break! Or is utter humiliation all that this world’s offerin’ at the moment?” He ran a hand through his hair charging further into the apartment, only to throw himself onto the couch.
Buffy followed him in, coming to stop in front of him. “Quit being such a baby. It doesn’t suit you.”
He went to protest, opting instead for a heavy pout.
Oh god. Oh god. OH god. Maybe if I just lean forward a bit I could get that lip between my teeth and just—Uhhn! Stop! Bad Buffy!
He noticed her face and neck flush, it somehow different then the embarrassment he’d seen tint her creamy complexion before. His eyes focused more precisely, his senses pricking up, like a dogs. “You ‘right pidge? Suddenly look a lil’ short o’ breath.” he smirked.
Andrew wandered over to the bar still watching them carefully. He proceeded to make himself comfortable, unwrapping the treat he had brought and helping himself as he enjoyed the show.
“I- uh- I’m- is it warm in here?” Buffy questioned through her stammer, fanning herself for emphasis.
“Not at all luv.” He stood then. “Must be me that makes you hot?” He leaned his upper body back, sucking his lower lip into his mouth.
She would have argued, should have. Going as far as to even hit him perhaps. But he leaned. And he bit that lip. And she no longer remembered, what would Buffy do?
Her eyes fluttered, all her faculties allowing her. And then it escaped, that little. betraying. whimper. Oh GOD!
“Holy sensei! You’re like Nosferatu trapping an unsuspecting maiden in his thrall!” Andrew bubbled over with enthusiasm.
That did it. Buffy was shaken from her state, looking back and forth between the two men several times before throwing a strategic hand onto her hip. “Yeah right!” she tried, “there was no Nose-forgot-you thrall thingy! I was, I was just weak,” she paled when both men smiled knowingly, “from not eating today!” She quickly corrected in a huff.
The males replied simultaneously. “Right?” Spike declared in disbelief. “Cake” Andrew offered, mouth full with his newest bite.
“That’s exactly right,” she said, acknowledging the Brit first, “and no I do not want cake Andrew! What is that anyway it looks like year old fruit cake?”
“Hey!” he whined, “this is Tar--”
“Oh please do not get him started!” Spike commented, moaning.
Andrew, successfully shut down, mumbled something under his breath about nobody being grateful and returned to eating his confection.
“Hey! That wasn’t very… very neighbourly!” Buffy surmised.
Spike glowered. “Oh and you tellin’ the whelp his cake looks like old fruit that’s what? Neighbour of the Year material?”
“That is not what I meant and you know it! I so did not come over here for this!” she steamed.
Realization suddenly dawned on him. “And why, exactly, did you come here for pet?”
“I- I- I-,” she couldn’t bare to ask for his help now, “nothing, it’s not important.” Buffy let out one frustrated breath and turned to leave, halting when a cool hand wrapped possessively around her forearm. She turned back, meeting regretful eyes.
Regretful eyes that instantaneously became over-wrought with emotion.
Spike had intended on stopping her from storming out. Had anticipated a few more angry words and an apology. What he had not been ready for was the feel of her boiling, silky skin clenched beneath his grip.
Oh dear lord. His eyes slipped closed, his jaw ticking once with desire. So soft, so bloody HOT, ‘s like fire! His thumb involuntarily stroked the tender flesh on the underside of her arm. Nothing, nothing is as good as--
“You two are just the cutest thing!” They had forgotten Andrew was still watching, both immediately pulling away from one another.
Both made a quick job of becoming very busy, suddenly enraptured by the tiniest stray thread or rebellious wrinkle in their clothing.
Buffy was the first to look up, unsure of what to say. “I should be going.”
Her words drew Spike’s attention away from the pocket of his denim. Don’t go. Why—ah right. He quickly remembered why she was leaving in the first place. “They're jus’ words Buffy.” He pleaded, sincerity evident, “didn’ mean a thing by ‘em.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets then, shuffling like a little lost boy.
And she was undone. “Of course not.” Her reply was hurried, almost involuntary. Maybe there is something to this thrall thing?
“Yeah?” Spike was shocked. Maybe there’s somethin’ to this thrall nonsense after all? “What was it that you dropped in for pidge?” He batted his eyelashes, testing out his new power.
“Oh. Right. I- uh- I was just going to see if you maybe wouldn’t mind helping me install some blinds.” She felt light headed, suddenly nervous. “I mean, if it’s not any trouble…” He made no attempt to interject. “You did offer so I just thought that… never mind, “ she sighed, shaking her head, “I’ll manage just--”
He was mesmerized, her agitated state somehow endearingly captivating. He caught the tail end of her rant just in time to realize his time to accept had come and almost passed. “Course luv.” He saved, “Jus’ name the time and place and I’ll be there, with bells on.”
Her smiled lit up the room. Light up Heaven itself that smile would.
“Great!” Buffy held her hands together behind her back, swaying softly, delighted. “Say an hour from now, apartment 13, first floor.”
“Your wish is my command Goldilocks.” He winked.
Oh he’s good.
He clicked his tongue behind his teeth, leaving it to protrude from between his parted lips for a few seconds longer than necessary.
Oh he’s too good. He’s either the Devil or an Angel. She snorted. What am I thinking, with my luck I’d get the Devil hands down.
“Well thank you Spike. It means a lot to me, really.” She began backing towards the door. He followed, matching every step. “So I’ll see you in an hour then.” He was prowling, making her a little flustered. “Yeah so—Eep!” She backed into the door jam, missing the opening by a foot. She flamed a dark red. “Bye!” She spun away and was gone before he could engage his prey.
“Minx.” Spike braced himself with one outstretched arm on the doorframe, head down.
“That’s kind of beautiful.”
Spike nearly shrieked, jumping at the sound of Andrew’s voice, taking large gulps of air. He calmed his heart rate, slamming the door shut a moment later, causing the boy to flinch in return.
“You have poetic bloody timin’ boy! Gave me half a bleedin’ heart attack.” He walked a few steps closer, stopping to lean back against a large wooden support beam. “And what was that?”
“You and Buffy.” He said, as if the correlation was obvious. “It’s a timeless tale. A knight pursues the reluctant maiden, aimed at rescuing her from her hellish existence, in the end only to be saved himself. Ahhhh,” he sighed, “amore.” His blue pools danced with whimsy.
Spike stared… again. This kid is good.
“Yeah. Right. No more Tar-what-ican fruit cake for you.” Spike crossed the remainder of the distance between them pulling the partially devoured treat away from Andrew.
“Hey!” He protested.
“Mine anyway.” Spike rebutted, holding the cake out of the boys now stretching reach.
“I made it!”
“It was a gift,” he faked shock, “I’m hurt.”
Andrew gave up his attempts to retrieve the dessert. “Well you better eat it then! That took me six hours to make!”
Spike’s expression became grave. “Right. I will, “ he lied, “jus’ savin’ it for later is all.” Smiling he put it back on the counter, sliding it as far from them as possible.
They both laughed at the mocking gesture.
His guest broke in first. “So, you’re totally Buffy’s love slave huh?”
Spike choked on his laughter, coughing harshly. “WHAT?”
“You do like her, and you’re helping her with stuff, hence the love and the slave.”
“I’m no one’s bloody slave mate!” he growled.
“Not yet anyway.” He looked pleased.
“Oi!” Spike looked at him incredulously.
“I could help you, you know!” Andrew’s eyes brightened.
“Yeah. Think I’m the lone wolf type ‘right, but thanks all the same.”
“No really! I know Buffy, I’m like her best friend!” Spike eyed him sceptically. “We have been through so much, and yet our love never had a chance, destined to be just friends…”
“Andrew.” Spike tried to cut in, unsuccessful.
“We share everything, but a physical love.”
“Enough!” he snapped. “If you stop your bloody jabberin’ you can help me with whatever you want ‘right!”
Andrew burst with excitement. “Oh! Oh! OH! I will be your right hand man! Your eyes and ears on the inside! I’ll be the Q to your Bond, the Alfred to your Bruce, the Spock--”
“You can be my trusty steed for all I care boy just shut up and leave already!”
He stood, immediately heading towards the door. “I’ll do reconnaissance and get back to you in--”
“Out!”
He opened the door pausing just before shutting it behind him. “Spike?”
Spike glared daggers, but waited for him to finish.
“It was nice to meet you!” With that he was gone.
The now exhausted blonde let out a long breath, relaxing into his seat at the bar. He allowed his head to drop onto the thick cherry wood, calm washing over him.
“Have fun?”
“AHH!” Spike flew back, tipping off the barstool, coming to a hard and painful landing on the floor. “Owwwwwww!”
“Geez big guy! Be careful! That body doesn’t come with a warranty!” Ulysses snickered.
He stretched awkwardly on the floor, assessing the damage. “Jus’ keep it up you bloody demon! I’m keepin’ track and you’d be right to worry ‘bout when I decide to settle the score!”
The Angel just lifted himself onto the bar-top, folding his arms over his chest he peered down at the still immobile man. “Noted. But really Spikey? Have fun with your new pal?” He seemed amused.
“Why? Jealous?” he retorted.
He giggled again. “As if that’s even possible. But really,” he waited for Spike to make eye contact, “If anyone’s Alfred it’s me.”
“Bloody hell!”
~
*A/N: Hope everyone enjoyed! Next up Spike spends a little quality time with Buffy! But will he be any help? How will meeting Angel go? Spuffyness in the next chap! Keep readin' too find out! PLease please please take a second to review! thanks!*
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