It was a soddin’ conspiracy. Had to be. Why else would his ponce of a grandsire be stood there in all his hair-gelled glory? Spike was willing to bet good money the PTB were having a right laugh at his expense. Maybe they were hoping to drive him completely carrot-top with pent up frustration? Either way, Angel’s unwelcome presence in his crypt had put a serious damper on his good mood.
“So what is it?” Spike said, slipping back into his human countenance as Buffy moved to his side. “Did you lot band together to be a pain in my arse? Or is there some sacred prophesy regardin' my sex life we should know about?”
Angel’s face was a study of control as he stepped forward. “Buffy, are you okay?” Disregarding his wayward childe, he stared intently at the Slayer. “Xander rang the office this morning. He was worried about you. He thinks that...” Trailing off, Angel shook his head. “I thought he was mistaken, but now...”
Spike felt Buffy stiffen, but to her credit, his girl refused to back down from Angel’s unwavering gaze. Smirking, he wrapped his arm around her waist in a deliberate act of provocation. “I asked you a bloody question,” he growled. “What do you want?”
To the untrained eye, Angel appeared unmoved by his grandchilde’s defiance, but Spike didn’t miss the tightening of his jaw—a sure-fire indicator that he was getting to him. “I had to see it with my own eyes,” he replied, glaring at the younger vampire before returning his full attention to the woman at his side. “He’s done something to you, Buffy. Can’t you see that he’s messing with your head?”
Undeterred, Buffy moved closer into Spike’s embrace. Her eyes shone with defiance, but any response was pre-empted when the Brit burst into unexpected peals of laughter. “Oh, that’s rich.” Cocking his head to the side, Spike sized up the other man. “I s’pose you'd know all about that, huh? I think you’re gettin’ us confused, mate. Mind games were your speciality, not mine.”
His words were enough to break Angel’s composure, and with a deep growl the brunette vampire stormed forwards with both hands fisted at his sides. “You’ll never change, Spike,” he said through clenched teeth. “I know you. I know what you’re capable of—how you think. I won't stand back and let you destroy her life!”
“I love her you pillock! I won’ let anyone hurt her again. Especially the likes of you.”
The threat was evident in his tone, and a growl rumbled throughout the room as Angel dismissed him with a scoff. The enticement to lash out was almost tangible, but Spike was keenly aware of the mounting impatience in the Slayer beside him. Biting his tongue, he took a calming—albeit unnecessary breath—and allowed the great poof to dig himself into a pit of his own making. Knowing his grandsire’s overinflated ego, it wouldn’t take him long to push his girl over the edge.
“Buffy, I left so you could have a normal life. This isn’t what I wanted for you!”
Spike chuckled. Nope. Not long at all.
In an instant, Buffy’s eyes flooded with righteous indignation as she glared at her first love. “How dare you show up like this,” she said, crossing her arms. “You have no right to question my decisions, Angel. This is what I want—”
“This is wrong!” Taken aback, Angel gestured between the two of them, seemingly oblivious to the fury on Buffy’s face. “If you can’t see that then...” He paused, sighing heavily. “This isn’t you. Something is... I don’t know, maybe you came back—”
“Wrong?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you thought it?”
Angel’s silence cut deeper than any knife, and the insinuation caused Buffy to flinch as his words breathed life to her deepest fears.
“You arrogant sod.” Spike had heard enough. Wilful abstention was one thing, but he wasn’t going to stand by and let anyone insult his girl. “There’s nothin’ wrong with her. She’s bloody perfect. Just ‘cause you weren’t man enough to love her the way she deserves, doesn’t mean you can barge in here and bugger it up for me.”
Angel snarled, stepping forward until he was chest to chest with the younger vamp. “Think whatever you like, boy, but my Buffy would never lower herself to your level.”
Shaking her head, Buffy grasped Spike’s hand, seeking reassurance with the fusion of their fingers. “This is my life. How I choose to live it is none of your business. Not anymore.”
Angel baulked, clearly unnerved by the conviction in her voice. “You’ll always be my business.” Straightening, he drew back to better meet her gaze. “This thing,” he sneered, glancing between them, “it’s nothing. A joke. The Powers have a plan for us, Buffy... You’re mine.”
Incensed, Spike’s demon rallied to the forefront. It was bad enough his grandsire was asserting a claim over his Slayer, but the way Angel’s eyes kept travelling over the golden expanse of Buffy’s legs made him want to stake the overgrown git on the spot. His limbs trembled with pent up rage, and Spike tempered his voice to a guttural whisper.
“She was never yours, you sanctimonious prat. Now do us all a favour an’ bugger off before I remove you bodily.”
“I’m not going anywhere without Buffy.” Uncaring of the warning growls emanating from his delinquent progeny, Angel moved to grab the Slayer’s arm. However, before he was able to find purchase, Spike grasped him by the lapels and hurled him across the room.
“YOU DON’T TOUCH HER, YOU HEAR?” Angel skidded backwards across the floor, finally coming to rest in an undignified heap by the crypt door. Spike was upon him before he had chance to recover, hauling him upwards as he landed a solid punch to the nose. “Buffy’s mine! You’ll never lay a finger on her again.”
Dazed, Angel staggered to his feet, wiping a steady stream of blood from his nose as he glared at the younger vampire. “You presumptuous little shit.” He ducked a punch and rammed his shoulder into Spike’s stomach. “I should have dusted you years ago. You’ve been nothing but an embarrassment since the night Drusilla brought you home.”
Panting, Spike brought a knee up to connect soundly with his chin. “Ooh, I’m shakin’ in my Docs. What’s the matter, gramps? Didn’ I live up to your high standards?” He fisted his hands in Angel’s shirt and pinned him against the wall. “Never was good enough for you, was I? You were my Yoda, man. Everythin’ I did back then was to prove myself to you—tryin’ to live up to the legendary fucking Angelus. And for what? Look at you! Even with that namby-pamby soul stuffed up your arse you’ll always be second best.” He grinned, victorious, when Buffy made no move to intervene. “You’re not welcome here,” he said, revelling in the convoluted emotions in his grandsire’s eyes. “The girl is mine.”
As fists and fangs battled for supremacy, Buffy stood spellbound by the ferocious mêlée enfolding before her. She knew she ought to step in and put a stop to it, but then again, it wasn’t everyday a girl had a pair of vampire hotties fighting over her. Surely she was entitled to a bit of an ego boost? The opportunity was short-lived however, because irrespective of the size difference, Angel was getting his ass handed to him, and despite the thrill of seeing her man all with the grr, Buffy decided to intervene before her ex was rendered very much of the dusty.
Bringing his arms up, Angel attempted to break Spike’s unyielding hold. “You don’t deserve her!” he growled, struggling ineffectually in the younger vampire’s grip. “She’s too good for you.”
“An’ don’ I bloody well know it,” Spike replied, “but she’s willin’ to give me a chance, an’ I’ll spend the rest of my days provin’ myself worthy.” His hands clenched as he resisted the urge to wipe the smug grin off Angel’s face permanently. “You had your chance and you blew it. You walked away. An’ unless you want the stuffin’ ripped out of you, I suggest you hit the road again.”
Soulful eyes turned towards the Slayer. “Buffy? May I speak to you alone?”
You arrogant... “No, you bloody well can’t!”
“Spike, wait!” Buffy rushed forward to separate the snarling vampires. Closing her hand around the sleeve of his duster she pulled him away, affording Angel the opportunity to right his clothing and advance towards them. “That’s enough!” Buffy stepped between them, one raised hand stopping Angel in his tracks, as the other pressed against Spike’s chest. “One more display of testosterone and I will personally kick both your undead asses.”
The blow of Buffy’s words was softened by the way her fingers absent-mindedly stroked his t-shirt, however, Spike’s eyes bored into his rival with such fiery intensity it was a wonder that Angel didn’t combust on the spot. Turning to face him—and fully aware of the merits of vampiric hearing—Buffy lowered her hands to wrap around his clenched fists.
“Give me five minutes and I’ll be back.”
Spike wouldn’t meet her eyes. With tunnel vision, he glared at Angel, his body tightly wound, coiled to strike at the slightest provocation. Releasing his hands, Buffy reached up to cup his cheeks, forcing his gaze to meet hers, determined that he hear the truth of her words. “I swear,” she said before covering his mouth in a kiss filled with the promise of things to come.
Dimly, she was aware of the slamming of the crypt door as Angel stormed away from the passionate display. An immense feeling of satisfaction rushed over her, but Buffy couldn’t ignore the barely restrained tension housed within the man she loved. “This doesn't change anything,” she whispered, pulling away from the temptation of Spike’s lips. His arms wrapped around her waist, causing her to moan as he hauled her against the evidence of his arousal. “Angel is my past. You’re my future, Spike. Not him... Never him.”
Spike sighed, exhaling a shaky breath as he rested his forehead against hers. “I can’ help goin’ a little batty, pet. I hate the hold that ponce has over you. Always have done... An’ the thought of you two bein’ alone... ” Trailing off, Spike raked his fingers carefully through her mussed hair, the tender action at odds with the stormy darkness that raged behind his eyes. “I see the way he looks at you. Arrogant sod thinks he can jus’ waltz in here an’ take you from me—”
“What about the way I look at you, Spike?” Buffy tilted her head to the side, nervously licking her lips as her hands danced along the collar of his duster. “Doesn't that count for anything?”
A low growl rumbled in the space between them. “Dirty pool, slayer.”
Buffy released a shaky breath, glancing down, as she struggled to find the appropriate words. The brain-of-Buffy and the English language were unmixy at the best of times, add in a shot of ex-boyfriend angst and things had the potential to go pear-shaped very quickly. It wasn’t like she wanted to have the upcoming conversation, but she knew Angel wouldn’t give up easily. For whatever reason he would always see her as the perpetual damsel in distress—the delicate flower that needed protecting from the harshness of the world—regardless of the fact that she’d gone and died twice already. It was important that she did this. Not just for her, but for the both of them. In any case, it wouldn’t do their blossoming relationship any good to be under the constant threat of Angel’s hulking shadow.
“I'm just going to talk to him,” she said, once again raising her eyes to meet Spike’s perturbed gaze. “I’ll be back before you know it, and Angel can take his broody self off to L.A where he belongs.” The raised eyebrow she got in response made her vampire’s opinion more than obvious, and Buffy sighed heavily as she wrapped her arms around her waist. “Spike, I need to do this on my own. Can you please just trust me?”
Bloody hell. That pout would be the undeath of him. How was a bloke supposed to come up with a worthwhile argument when all he could think about was how it felt to nibble that lip between his teeth?
“Five minutes... then I’m yours for the rest of the night. No more interruptions... even if I have to bar that door shut myself.”
Defeated, Spike rolled his eyes and accepted the inevitable. “Fine,” he muttered, “Go an’ send the poncy git off with a flea in his ear. But I’m warnin’ you now, he tries anythin’ and I’ll stake his over-bearin’ arse myself.” His lips curled into a teasing smirk, but the sobriety in his voice made it clear he was deadly serious.
“Thank you.”
Buffy felt a wave of gratitude rush over her. Leaning up, she kissed him softly, hoping to convey her appreciation of his reluctant gesture. As the embrace deepened, Spike’s arms fell to her waist. His hands slid down to the curve of her ass and Buffy was suddenly very much aware of how much clothes she wasn’t wearing. Blushing profusely, she took a step back and glanced down at her this’ll-make-him-drool outfit, suddenly wishing for the plain coverage of jeans and a t-shirt.
“Okay,” she said, tugging ineffectively at the hem of her skirt. “Suddenly feeling very much underdressed over here. When I put this on, I figured you’d be the only vamp that got to eye-up my goodies.”
A slow-born smirk lit up Spike’s features as he tilted his head to the side. “Well by all means, love, we’d best get you wrapped up then, hadn’t we?” His eyes sparkled with amusement as he shrugged out of his duster and moved behind her, holding it open so that Buffy could slip her arms into his beloved coat. “It’s a cold night an’ all... Wouldn’ want you to catch a chill whilst you’re performin’ your sacred duties.”
Buffy rolled her eyes, unable to fight the smile tugging at her lips. Spike was practically giddy at the thought of her wearing his duster in front of her ex. Talk about marking his territory—why didn’t he just pee on her leg and get it over with? She supposed she ought to be annoyed with him, but in all honesty, the idea of flaunting their relationship did sound appealing. And as one of her college professors once told her—men are visual creatures. If Angel wanted to be all with the caveman act, then a little visual representation could go a long way.
“You are so obvious, you know that?”
“I dunno what you mean, pet.”
“Yeah right.” Buffy spun to face him, the black leather lapping against her calves. “I take it all back. You are still evil.”
Spike chuckled. “Glad to hear it.” His eyes wandered over her face, coming to rest at the slight quirk of her lips. “What’s all this then?” he asked, brushing his thumb across her cheek and causing her smile to widen. “Looks to me like I’m not the only one wantin’ to stick it to the poof.” Smirking, he reached out to straighten the jacket’s lapels. “An’ anyway—vampire here. I’m s’posed to be treadin’ on the dark side. What’s your excuse?”
Buffy flashed him a grin. “I think you’ve corrupted me.”
“Yeah.” Spike dropped a kiss to her forehead. “Sounds like somethin’ I’d do.”
There wasn’t a man alive—or undead for that matter—that didn’t get hard at the sight of his girl wearing his clothes. Spike was no exception, and the fact that Peaches would appreciate the gesture like a kick to the happy-sacks only made it all the more delicious.
This’ll serve the wanker right for taunting me with Dru all those years, thought Spike as he watched Buffy settle into the duster, unconsciously snuggling into it, and inhaling the scent of worn leather. “I’m never gettin’ that thing back am I?”
She glanced up shyly, as if she’d been caught doing something improper, and the image of child-like innocence damn near floored him.
“I thought you said it looked better on me?”
Spike sniggered. “No arguments here, sweetheart.”
“Do you want to hear a secret?” Buffy stepped forward, her hands splayed against Spike’s stomach, as she whispered her words against his ear. “The first time I saw you—in the alley behind the Bronze—I remember thinking, who’s the hottie in the cool coat?”
A contented purr rumbled through his chest. “So you had your mind squarely on the job then?”
“Uh-huh.” Buffy nodded as a slight pout formed on her lips. “And then you were all about the vague threats and being a general pain in my ass. When I realised you were a vampire I felt...”
“Hmm?”
“Disappointed.” Buffy giggled as his surprised gasp tickled her neck. “Not that it would’ve stopped me from turning you into itty bitty pieces of vamp dust, but yeah... for a second there was definite mopeage.”
Spike was staggered by her admission, but rather than start to ramble like a ponce, he fixed a trademark smirk on his lips, hoping to safeguard his emotions. “Aww, pet, I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be.” She pulled back to playfully poke him in chest with her index finger. “As always, you opened your big mouth, words came out... and by the time you’d launched into the I’m-gonna-kill-you rhetoric, the warm fuzzies were forgotten.”
Grasping her by the arms, Spike returned his lips to her fluttering pulse point. “What can I tell you, baby?” he muttered against her neck. “I’ve always been bad...Though if I’d known the coat got you all hot an’ bothered I’d have used it to my advantage long ago.” His hands coasted over the smooth leather, finally coming to rest at her hips. “You have no idea the dreams I’ve had starrin’ me, you an’ that duster.”
Buffy grinned. “Really? So I’m not the only one with the leather fetish?”
Bloody hell, thought Spike, as the image of a leather-clad slayer almost brought him to his knees. I wager my girl’s got a dominatrix streak just waitin’ to be unleashed.
“Oh, kitten,” he replied. “You name it, I’ve imagined it.”
Buffy’s hands travelled to his belt buckle, her fingers dipping behind denim and cotton to graze against his bare stomach. “Play your cards right,” she said, nibbling against his siring mark, “and we’ll see about making some of those dreams come true.”
Jesus Christ, this girl was going to kill him. If he got any harder he’d be risking permanent damage, and Spike didn’t fancy the idea of buggering up his sex life before it’d even begun. Swallowing hard, he reluctantly eased Buffy away from his neck, but apparently his traitorous hands missed the memo, and were intent on tangling themselves in her hair.
“Right then,” he replied, torn between pulling her closer and urging her back. “You’d better run along an’ tell Peaches to toddle off on his not-so-merry way.”
Buffy frowned. “Somehow I doubt it’ll be that simple.”
“Just tell him he’s standin’ in the way of the best shag of your life.”
“Spike!”
“Yeah, you’ll be screamin’ that a lot too.”
“Oh my God!” Buffy marvelled at his ability to shock her even after all these years. “Has anyone ever mentioned you have the tact of a Polgara demon?”
Chuckling darkly, Spike flashed his best shit-eating grin. “Can’t help it, love. I’m a bad, rude man.”
Oh well, Buffy thought, at least he’s smiling again. Time had accustomed her to Spike’s mercurial mood swings, and as the chosen guardian of all things Hellmouthy, she was more than equipped to manage one PMS-ing vampire when necessary.
“Remind me again why I put up with you?” she asked, rolling her eyes in mock disapproval.
Spike’s tongue flicked over his teeth. “Cause you love me?” There was such liberation to be found in those words, that he couldn’t help pulling her into a quick kiss. “An’ I’m the only bloke that can handle a woman like you.”
One eyebrow raised in response as Buffy adopted the worst British accent Spike had ever heard. “Well you always said I had bleedin’ tragic taste in men.”
“Oi!” he cried. “I don’ bloody well sound like that!”
Buffy burst into fits of giggles at his indignant expression. “Oh please,” she said wiping the tears from her eyes. “All I ever hear from you is bugger this, or bollocks that. Things would be a lot easier if you just spoke—”
“English?”
She blushed. “Shut up.”
They both knew they were postponing the inevitable, and so with one final kiss, Buffy pulled away from his arms. “I won’t be long.” Was she saying it for Spike’s benefit or her own? Either way, the words did little to diminish the tension in her vampire’s body as she headed towards the door. Loitering on the threshold, afraid of what was to come; Buffy couldn’t help glancing back over her shoulder. “Five minutes,” she repeated. “And when I get back, I promise you can shag me rotten.”
As Spike’s chuckle echoed behind her, Buffy pushed open the door and stepped into the night. Shrouded in the protective armour of the duster, and reassured by its familiar scent, she set forth, intent on diffusing the wrath of her damage-bound ex-boyfriend. She wasn’t stupid. Six years of slaying had ensured Buffy never went anywhere unarmed.
She just hoped the stake in her boot would prove excessive.
[Reviews - 82]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 3714 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Chapter End Notes:
Some lines taken from Smashed. So, what do you think? Am I forgiven for last week’s evil cliffhanger? Obviously I’ve never written Angel before so I apologise if I’ve butchered his voice! With Christmas and New Year just around the corner I may not update next Friday. I expect most of you will be otherwise engaged over the next week or so, but I’ll try and get an update done before New Years for those who want to see Angel face the wrath of a frustrated Slayer.
Also, I want to thank everyone who has read and reviewed my fics, and wish you all a happy Christmas and a spufftacular New Year. You guys are made of win. *Mwah*
Also, I want to thank everyone who has read and reviewed my fics, and wish you all a happy Christmas and a spufftacular New Year. You guys are made of win. *Mwah*