He watched her close the door in Rupert’s face and something in him trembled, dangerously close to completely falling apart. His fingers were itching for a cigarette but he was most definitely not lightening one in her room.
Sighing Spike reach for a nicotine stick anyway. His lighter stayed safely tucked away in the depths of his pocket though.
Buffy turned around and her eyes were immediately drawn to his fingers. The brisk, slightly frantic movements transfixing her.
“You can smoke, if you want.”
Spike looked up, surprised. Opened his mouth to reply but then just shook his head and put the cigarette away. It couldn’t calm him anyway.
She took a couple of steps ‘til she was right in front of the bed and when he didn’t move, sat down. Her hands clasped together in her lap and her eyebrows drawn together, frowning at the restless taping his fingers had taken a liking to now that there was nothing else to keep them busy.
As if on reflex her hand reached out and grabbed his, stilling the movement. His head shot back up and his eyes widened slightly.
She squeezed and finally, he relaxed.
The task was all too simple. Representing the ex-Watcher’s father would have been amusing if the robot was created with the ability to feel amusement. As it was, the best it could do was imitate the appropriate reactions, portraying amusement.
Analyzing though was something it was created for. The subjects before it were as transparent as the good name of the firm they were working for.
Maybe it was someone’s sick sense of humor but the machine did not get humor either so the irony of all its carefully recorded information flashing through its brain right before the moment of destruction was lost on it.
Name: Angel (Angelus; Liam)
Name: Spike (William; the Bloody)
Name: Wesley Wyndam-Pryce
Status: Soon to be lost
Buffy watched her feet as she made her way to the silent vampire on top of the roof. Wouldn’t it be funny if the oldest Slayer in history died by falling off her own rooftop?
Reaching her destination, Buffy let herself drop next to Spike.
“Brooding?” she asked, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.
The blond just rolled his eyes. Ouch! Usually that was enough to send him from creepy quiet to loudly annoyed in record time.
“Can I help?”
“Yeah,” he replied without looking at her, “get your arse inside before it freezes.”
“You gonna stay up here for awhile?”
“Probably.” he mumbled.
The Slayer nodded, getting up and carefully making her way back inside their small apartment. If Spike was surprised by her giving up on him so quickly, he didn’t let it show. However, he did lift a questioning eyebrow when she settled herself next to him again a minute later.
“Brought myself a blanket.” She answered, lifting up said blanket as if she expected him to judge it and give his verdict.
He just wrapped his arms around her.
Spike had always thought that he got family.
As a human, he had loved his mum with all his pathetic heart. He had sworn he didn’t feel the absence of a father and siblings. He had always taken care of her. In the end, in all the wrong ways.
Family was something fragile. You had to protect it.
When he had met Drusilla, Darla and Angelus he had been taught that family didn’t have to be good to you. You had to earn your place in it and then you had to make sure you measured up, at all times.
Family was something primal. You had to fight in and for it.
Now, as he looked into his daughter’s shining hazel eyes for the first time he wanted nothing more than to be everything for her. To watch her grow, to show her the world, to keep her safe and to make her happy.
Family was something beautiful. You gave it everything when it asked for nothing.
His head was spinning. The bitch had smashed his head into the fucking wall. The world was blurry and all kinds of wrong. Nothing new there. Spike was pretty sure there was nothing left that hadn’t been done to his head.
He was aware that the principal had cut down the whelp sometime during the fight and Buffy had killed the hell bitch and was now probably checking up on the boy.
Then he felt warmth. She was there and she was touching him. And her eyes shone with… For a moment he was frozen in place. Then his mind convinced his heart that it was just concern and he nodded. Agreeing with it more than anything else.
Buffy had on a pink bra and matching panties. Her boobs had grown to incredible proportions.
When she had heard that Spike was alive she had wanted nothing more than to immediately rush to his side but she had decided that he wouldn’t take her back unless she had bigger breasts. So she had called the Powers That Be. They had told her just the previous week that she could have whatever she wanted as her reward for making the world Slayers’ playground. And she wasn’t quite sure why she hadn’t simply asked for Spike right then and there but it worked out perfectly. Now she had Spike back and she could have bigger boobs too. The PTB fulfilled her wish in no time. Seriously, one second she was eyeing Victoria Secret models with envy and the next she had to go buy herself a new blouse(preferably one without buttons).
Angelus licked the blood off his fingers and looked down at the unconscious girl. He had been looking for the Slayer but when a delicious thing like Willow Rosenberg popped up you just can’t help yourself. Or at least he hadn’t been able to. Those big frightened eyes, that bouncing red hair, those full lips, shaped in a prefect ‘o’ of terror. Nothing like a girl, trembling with fear.
She smelled like innocence and cherries and under it all a potential for power that he had full intension of releasing on the poor, unsuspecting world. Angelus knew that she would manage combine what Darla and Drusilla had struggled to be. Mate and masterpiece.
Out of Character
Buffy eyed her sister suspiciously. Dawn sighed in annoyance.
“I’m not trying to trick you into anything! Just go already! Have fun! Drink, dance, laugh and do all those gross things that you do to each other and that I never wanna hear about. I’m not going to set the house on fire. I’m not going to invite over all the vamps from the nearest cemetery. I won’t even try to turn on the oven!”
The Slayer stood motionless, her hands on her hips, lips pressed together into a tight line and eyebrows drawn together in thought. Finally, frustrated, she looked at the vampire next to her for advice.
“Call the Watcher. Something has possessed the Bit.”
Sometimes you deserve what you get.
Buffy stood in front of the mirror, staring into her own blood-shot eyes. She wiped at her tears angrily. She didn’t get to cry, she didn’t get to feel sorry for herself, she didn’t get to ask for forgiveness.
There had been a lot of things between them over the years. There had never been betrayal, not until she had put it there. Cheated. She had cheated on him. On him! Her man, her best friend, her strength, her world. She had stabbed him in the back.
She sniffed, clenching her fists and straightening her back, she walked out of their bedroom. Ready to face the music.
Spike turned around. Staring at her with empty eyes. She stopped in front of him and waited. He could yell, he could hit and throw things, he could cry. She just prayed he wouldn’t leave because he could do that too, he had every right to.
When he reached out and hugged her to himself she knew.
Sometimes you don’t deserve what you get.