Halloween Trick or Freak
By Bloodshedbaby
Chapter 4
Special thanks to my beta Spikeskat!! *hugs*
Buffy slumped under the weight of her mom's unwavering stare, shifting nervously on the couch. All previous signs of temporary insanity were gone, and Joyce Summers, Mom Extraordinaire, had slipped firmly back into place.
"So that's it?" her mom said finally, after letting the silence drag on for a few more dramatic, tense, moments.
"Uh... yeah?"
Another derisive snort erupted from the vampire on the couch next to her, and Joyce turned steely eyes in his direction. "Do you have anything to add to this discussion, young man?"
"Please," Spike scoffed. "I'm practically a century older than you."
"Then maybe you should begin acting like it."
It was Buffy's turn to snort, and it earned her another glare from the parental unit. Finally, Joyce just sighed, and the wind suddenly seemed to drop from her sails, resulting in her exhausted slump against the back of the chair she was perched in.
"So, that's why you've gotten yourself into so much trouble?" Joyce finally asked, not sure whether to be horrified or relieved.
Buffy nodded cautiously, trying to gauge her mother's mood. She watched as her mom reacted by getting to her feet, and headed into the kitchen, calling back over her shoulder. "Who wants hot chocolate?"
Buffy looked over at Spike, who seemed to have a dumbfounded expression on his face. "Your mum is completely out of her gourd. You know that, right?"
Ignoring his comment, Buffy asked, "Tell me again why you're still here?"
Spike's face drew into a familiar smirk. "Cos you never threatened to stake me and ordered me to go, is why."
Buffy shook her head tightly. "No, I mean,.. at all."
The mocking glint on Spike's face turned serious, and he released a heavy sigh. "Dunno. Reckon it's the same reason you're letting me sit here. Just can't find it in me to hate you the way I bloody well should."
"Yeah. Me too"
They both slumped down further on opposite ends of the couch, staring straight ahead while lost in thoughts neither wanted. Nothing was the same, and neither could figure out if that was a good or a bad thing.
Later that evening, after Joyce had shooed Spike from the house as if she hadn't just learned he was a master vampire, and had in fact been the one she'd axed over the head at Buffy's school that one time, she set her daughter back down to have another talk with her. This time however, she was determined to extract a glimmer of truth from Buffy. She was curious to know why a vampire had saved her, when she had just learned that her daughter's calling entailed annihilating his kind. She had been shocked to learn that Angel was a vampire as well, and wasn't too comforted by the reassurances that he was in control of the evil part inside him; having had his soul returned to him almost a century earlier. That hadn't made much sense to Joyce, who had looked over at Spike, and decided right then that Spike was in pretty good control himself for the supposed evil creature he declared himself to be.
So the moment Buffy warily sat back down on the couch, Joyce demanded to know why Spike had saved her at the gallery. Buffy's mumbled "I don't know" and averted eyes was more telling than Buffy could ever guess. The explanation for their reluctant camaraderie had been glossed over uncomfortably by both, and Joyce's bullshit-omitor had been fully activated. Spike's bizarre behavior in the car on the drive over made more sense now, and Joyce had to admit, she was finding him quite a puzzle.
Honestly, she just didn't know quite what to think. The night had brought such added peculiarity to what she had thought was their boring, normal life, that Joyce felt like it would take years to process all she had learned. Finally, in the end, she just hugged her daughter with a kiss and a smile, and told her to go to bed.
There was a gratefulness to Buffy that brought tears to Joyce's eyes, and it hit home just how much her daughter had given up. How many false labels she'd been forced to endure. It just didn't seem fair, and Joyce decided to try to make things as easy on her as possible.
Watching Buffy flee the room, Joyce decided to go have a little chat with that lying librarian. She was completely unaware that her daughter was up in her room, preparing for nightly patrol, as she often did after claiming fatigue and heading for bed.
When Joyce left the house this time, she assumed ownership of one of Buffy's stakes, and felt a bit wiser to the ways of Sunnydale. She shook her head ruefully as she hastily closed the car door behind her. Cro-Magnon era, really. Her higher education had sure dropped the ball on that one.
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Buffy watched her mom drive away, knowing exactly where she was headed, and briefly contemplated calling ahead to alert Giles of her impending attack. Then, in a fit of impish rebellion, decided against it. Why should she be the only one to face the "Wrath of Mom"? Well, ok, so maybe she hadn't been ALONE exactly, but Spike didn't really count. No, not in the slightest. There was no counting of any kind when it came to a deliciously yummy vampire in tight jeans and a great ass.
Out of habit, she took her usual stealth-cut, dropping the last few feet to land easily on the damp grass. Shrugging her weapons bag higher onto her shoulder, she turned and started out for the first cemetery of the evening, completely aware she had a stalker behind her. And completely realizing that she was swinging her own ass more than she normally would to patrol. She just... couldn't seem to stop herself. Because really, the fact that she had picked her tightest jeans for patrol had nothing to do with said yummy vamp she knew would be waiting outside. Nope, not at all. Yeah right, and she'd live to a ripe ole' age too.
It was just that she could feel those intense eyes of his practically burning an imprint on her butt, and she couldn't help but shake it a little. 'Isn't that what normal sixteen year old girls were SUPPOSED to do?' she tried to rationalize to herself, but knowing full well that normal teenagers wouldn't be encouraging hundred year old master vampires to check out their ass while they took a leisurely stroll through a cemetery at night. But hey, she could live in denial, right?
An hour later, Spike finally made his presence known, unable to stand the torture a moment longer. Having to watch the seductive sway of the Slayer's hips as he followed behind her had almost driven him off his rocker. He knew the bint was doing it on purpose, and had full intentions of extracting his revenge. He was still the chit's worst bloody nightmare, even if he had to work to keep reminding himself of that fact these days.
Buffy watched as he stepped out from behind one of the fine crypts Sunnydale had to offer, digging into his pockets for his cigarettes. Buffy was unable to gauge his mood, he seemed edgier than usual. Well, since Halloween anyway. With a quick flick of his lighter, he brought the flame up to the tip of his cigarette. The sudden flare of light brought half of his face out of the shadows, which only served to accentuate his chiseled cheeks. He didn't say anything, which gave her the wiggins. One thing she had come to count on with Spike; he never shut up.
"Wow, was wondering how long you were going to be all 'Stalker Guy'," was her less than stellar greeting.
Spike just shrugged, the powerful gaze that held her becoming more unnerving the longer they stood staring at each other. Buffy found herself twirling her stake due to a sudden attack of nerves, and had a momentary flashback to Halloween night and her alter ego's desperation for something familiar in her hands. Oh god, she had something else in common with that wuss-for-brains, Lady Elizabeth. That was so wrong.
"So... Slayer." Spike tossed his cigarette to the ground, crushing it out beneath the toe of one tattered and worn boot. He looked back up and crossed his arms over his chest. "Think it's time we suss this out, don't you?"
"Huh? Suck what?"
An evil grin played across Spike's face. "Suss, luv. Chat it out. Come out of the bleedin' closet."
"What? I am so not gay!" Buffy cried in mortification. He didn't really think that, did he?
Spike just tipped his head to the side, an amused look on his face. "There's more than one type of closet in life, luv."
Ok, she had just made two totally blonde statements in a row, and instead of using it to belittle her, Spike just seemed to find it... amusing. This had gone so far beyond creepy, it had entered the realm of seriously disturbing. Finally, she sighed deeply and gestured with her hand. "Fine. Let's suss this out, shall we?" She turned and hopped up on a tombstone, leaving Spike pacing in front of her. "Go ahead, suss away."
He tossed a black look her way, which she answered with a sweet smile. Apparently she had managed to piss him off. Oops. Mental note to self, don't mock his messed up words. "Don't fuck with me, Slayer," he growled.
‘There’s the Spike we all know and love,’ she thought silently.
Buffy lifted her hands in a defensive gesture. "Hey, cowboy, you're the one who said you wanted to suss this out. I'm here and all for the suss-age. So why don't you just tell me what brought all this on?"
His black look heated with an emotion that Buffy tried desperately to ignore. "You know what brought it on."
Feigning ignorance, Buffy said offhandedly, "Enlighten me."
For a moment, Spike looked like he wanted to storm out of the cemetery, but then turned to face her. "Right then. How about this? Maybe you could explain why we're here chattin' each other up, instead of trying to do the other in, like good little mortal enemies are supposed to do?"
Buffy began to squirm uncomfortably from her perch on top of the headstone. This was worse than having to talk to her mom. Because at least then, she didn't have to risk looking at his penetrating gaze that kept trying to stare right into her soul. Nope, she had been able to keep her gaze completely averted and forget that she had a bleached blonde, undead hottie sitting on the couch with her. But now, his studied gaze was piercing straight through her, trying to extract something that she wasn’t quite sure she really wanted to give.
"Uh, well... I suppose I feel sorta... grateful to you. You know, for doing the Buffy save-age thing when I was under that spell," she finally managed to spit out. "It just doesn't seem right for me to try to stake you now. And then, you know, not killing me when my stupid friend tried to double cross me. He's lucky he left town, by the way. He was so in for a world of hurt."
Spike wasn't about to tell her that the idiot had shown up at the Factory to request payment, and never one to back down on his word, Spike had turned him. But then had staked him the moment he rose, anger at what the idiot had attempted to do to Buffy fueling his motivations. Buffy did not need to know about that, and never would.
"Yeah, well, there was that," he admitted, watching her intently and enjoying her heightened edginess, finding himself strangely reassured by it. He felt better knowing he wasn’t alone in his sudden restlessness.
"Why didn't you, anyway?" Buffy suddenly asked.
"What, kill ya?"
Buffy nodded, finally able to look him in the eye, her gaze never wavering, and this time it was Spike who had to look away. "Dunno, really. Just couldn't. I've got all these feeling swirlin' inside of me now," he admitted, missing the look of relief on Buffy's face.
"Yeah," Buffy agreed.
Spike began to pace in front of her, agitation having dug its piercing claws in, and refused to let go. "It's bloody ridiculous, is what. I know I should be killin' ya, trying to rip your throat out, but I soddin' well can't. I just have this urge to... protect you. And it's fucking wrong."
If Spike had been looking at her at that moment, he would have seen the soft smile that had plastered itself on her face. "Yeah? Well, you think that's bad? I get the urge to go all damsel-y when ever you're around," Buffy revealed.
Spike turned hopeful eyes in her direction. "Really?" Then his eyes narrowed as he contemplated her. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?"
Buffy shook her head, not able to trust her voice at that moment. Spike's face broke out into a genuine smile, one that transformed his face entirely. It softened him, made him more touchable, appear less evil.
"So... what are we going to do about this?" Spike asked finally, breaking the enchantment that had woven around them as they drank each other in.
Ugh. The real world. Not what Buffy really wanted to think about, but hey, she couldn't have anyone accusing her of being a slave to her hormones, could she? Nope. Not when evil was afoot. Especially not when evil was standing right in front of her wearing a tight black tee, and sporting a drop-dead sexy smile. No siree bob. She was the Slayer. It was her job to take care of evil. Yep, so that is what she was going to do. Take care of it.
Spike suddenly found himself with a hundred pounds of Slayer wrapped around him, her lips smashing against his as she pressed herself boldly against his lean frame. 'Ah yeah, nothing better than taking care of evil,' she thought fleetingly, as Spike took the control of the kiss, seeking entry into her mouth. When her lips parted, he thrust his tongue inside, exploring the moist caverns of her mouth. She tasted like power and innocence, all wrapped into one, and he greedily tried to get all he could.
A whimper escaped her mouth at the feelings that were rushing through her. The same ones he had evoked while they had been the Sheriff and the Lady. Except it was different this time. Better. This felt real.
Spike's hands reached down and cupped the globes of her ass, bringing her up against his straining erection. After watching her bum twitch all evening, it was about bloody time he got to put his hands on it. He allowed one hand to travel up, skimming under her shirt and caressing the bare skin of her back.
Evil was nice, Buffy decided. Evil was a good kisser, and evil felt REALLY good against her body. Oh yeah, she liked evil a whole lot, especially if he just kept kissing her.
But, because nothing ever went like she wanted, a voice behind them caused both of them to jump apart. "Is there a line for the kissing booth?"
Bringing her hand up to touch her swollen lips, Buffy looked over at the cocky vampire in a daze. "W-what?"
"Figure I'd wait in line, since you're kissing vampires before you stake them."
Buffy looked at Spike. "Does he think he's funny, or he just really stupid?"
"I think he's just really stupid, luv."
"Oh." In less then thirty seconds, the kiss crasher was nothing more than clump of dust in the grass.
"Did I ever tell you how much that turns me on?"
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Now, why does this NOT surprise me?" She checked her watch. "I better get home. I don't want mom to find me gone, and go all damage bound."
Spike's face turned serious. "So, luv, we never did decide what to do about... this."
Buffy sighed and turned to face him. "I don't know. Because in case you hadn't notice, we aren't exactly in the running for the most compatible couple. Slayer, vampire. I'm supposed to staking evil, not... kissing it."
It was Spike's turn to heave a telling sigh, as he directed his gaze to the ground. "Don't feel so evil anymore," he mumbled too softly for Buffy to hear.
"Huh?"
"I said, I bloody well don't feel so evil anymore." He met her stunned eyes, and gave her a small embarrassed smile.
"Since when?"
"Bloody hell, Slayer, you know since when."
She let a hopeful smile snake across her face. "Really?"
"Yes, really. What, you think I'd want to be admitting something like that? Vampire here. I like being evil."
"Yeah. Not so much with liking this damsel-y thing either."
"So, again the question. What are we going to do?"
"Oh, I know! Let's do the avoidy thing, and talk about it tomorrow," Buffy suggested with a perky smile.
Spike's lips curled into a smirk. "Right. Tomorrow, it is."
"Ok, then, tomorrow. So, this is me going home. Night." Buffy turned to walk away, fighting the overwhelming urge to throw herself back into his arms. His nice muscular arms that felt just right wrapped around her. She stopped after taking a few steps, and looked over her shoulder. "Don't kill anyone, ok?"
An unreadable look shadowed his face. "Haven't killed anyone since that night, pet."
"Because of me?"
A wry smile crept over his face. "No. The soddin' sheriff, is why. He's corrupted my brain with his do-gooder way."
Buffy's smile lit him up inside. "Good," she responded, then fled into the night.
tbc..
Review me please!! Cos well, I'm majorally paranoid and need lots of feedback. *nods* I'm greedy that way!
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