Spoilers: Through “Storyteller”
Summary: Spike spends a night trying to be just a little evil.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon
A big thank you to Alena for beta reading this for me. Any mistakes remaining are entirely my fault.
The smell emanating from his bed caught him by surprise and he stared at the rumpled covers. Looked like Anya might finally leave his bone alone, since she’d found another one to play with. He heaved a sigh of relief, before footsteps coming down the stairs made him turn and face the newcomer.
It was Harris, his arms full of sheets, and his face turning a bright crimson.
“I didn’t know you guys were going to be back so soon.”
A smirk played around Spike’s lips.
“Looks like we all did a bit of demon wrestling tonight.”
The human started to stammer a bit more, then stopped and hurried towards the cot.
“Now, don’t yell or throw a fit. I’ll change the sheets.”
Spike threw out a hand and stopped him as he started to walk past the vampire, towards the rumpled bed. Xander glanced at the hand gripping his arm, then at Spike, confused.
“Don’t bother? Come on, Spike, no extra vampire senses here, but even I can smell it. It reeks.”
“Maybe…maybe I like the smell.”
Spike shyly looked up at Xander, while the hand that still held his arm loosened, and began to caress the flesh underneath. Xander let out a yelp, dropped the linens, and started to back away.
“Maybe I like the idea of your spunk on my sheets,” Spike continued. “Of you coming in my bed. And what with you thinking of swinging the other way now…”
The vampire let his words trail off, but his eyes boldly wandered up and down Xander’s body before resting at the crotch. When his tongue flicked out, wetting his lips, Xander turned and fled with a girlish shriek.
An evil smile spread across Spike’s face. He still had it. He was still bad, but not too bad, just sort of not quite evil. He needed to practice, though. Red would be next.
- - - - - - -
As he logged onto the computer while the rest of the house slept, he felt a deep sense of accomplishment. Everyone always underestimated him and his abilities. The witch had never suspected that he’d watched her carefully whenever she’d entered her password. Guess he’d never told them about how he tracked them down to their dorm room, years earlier.
With practiced ease, he pulled up some of his favorite porn sites and examined the photos. Was bigger than that one, was bigger than that one…now, wait a minute, that next one had to be a bloody fake.
After a few minutes, he finished up and logged off. Red would get a pleasant little shock the next time she opened her computer and saw her wallpaper. Porn sites were such fun, and he’d made sure to visit a lot of them, all of them het. Hopefully, that Kennedy chit would be clinging to the witch’s shoulder, like she was prone to do, when Willow logged on. He could almost hear Red now, babbling away about how one of the little girls must have used her computer. She might have a bit harder time explaining all those sites about werewolves, though.
- - - - - -
Spike thought long and hard about what to do to his Niblet. He still loved her and he actually took some pride in all of her threats to him. Who did they think she learned that kind of stuff from, anyway? He didn’t want to get her into real trouble, like someone else’s bracelet or necklace slipped into her underwear drawer might.
After considering the prospect for a moment, he went upstairs and into the bathroom. Underneath the sink, behind towels, tampons, and other assorted female paraphernalia, he found the expensive bottle of crème rinse she’d hidden away. How she loved her shiny hair. He placed it on the rim of the tub, so that every potential would see it when they came in and would descend upon it. Spike figured that by nine the next morning, it would mostly be gone. Hey, vanity was a sin, right? Just doing it for the chit’s own good.
- - - - -
The boy had been easy. He’d taken one of those precious action figures that the lad thought so much of, and with one fingernail, had left a very slight scratch in the paint. Most wouldn’t notice it, but he knew that the git would.
The potentials would get theirs, too. He’d carefully slit the bottom of the new box of Raisin Bran, pulled the plastic packaging out, placed a nice sized bug on top, then pushed it back inside the box, being sure to glue the bottom back together. He was sure that after they opened the box and discovered the bug, most weren’t going to be too thrilled at eating all those little wrinkled raisins. Serves them right, he thought. Shouldn’t have eaten the Weetibix.
Now, he’d never get away with any of this if the Watcher were around. Good thing old Rupert was still off on one his trips, picking up young girls. Picking up young girls…sounded right dirty. A smile lit Spike’s face as he wondered what an anonymous tip to police about a suspiciously acting middle-aged man escorting a young girl might do. It wasn’t like the Watcher would actually get in trouble or anything; he was too smart for that. Would be nice to see him get all huffy or better yet, to see him let go of his inner Ripper, as long as Ripper wasn’t directed at him, that is.
The last one he had to deal with was Buffy. Buffy, the love of his unlife, the reason he’d gotten his soul. Her belief in him had kept him going in the face of all of the torture the First had subjected him to. He was going to have to think of something really good to do to her.
- - - - -
It was around two o’clock in the morning when Buffy woke to see Spike’s concerned face hovering over her.
“What?” she asked sleepily, before her brain kicked in and she sat up, tensely. “Is it the First?”
Spike was shaking his head, not meeting her eyes. “No, nothing like that. Just heard you calling for me.”
“I was calling for you?”
“Yeah, it sounded like you were in pain.”
She arched an eyebrow and studied him. He looked up at her with clear blue innocent eyes, before bashfulness seemed to overwhelm him.
“Well, I’m fine. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“Was already awake. Vampire, here.”
Buffy snuggled back under the covers as Spike made his way through the potentials camped out about the room and back out the door. Within moments, she was asleep. Around three o’clock, it happened again. She awoke to find Spike gently shaking her.
“Again?” she asked.
“Seemed pretty insistent, too. Kept repeating my name, telling me to come.”
A warmth swept up Buffy’s face, and she was glad that it was dark in the room. Not that he would see it anyway, what with the way he was avoiding her gaze.
“You sure you’re not in any pain, any discomfort?” he asked. “Sure there’s not something you want me to do? Any aches you want me to rub for you?”
Shaking her head, Buffy replied, her voice quivering slightly. “No, Spike I’m fine. Really.”
“I’ll be going then, Slayer.”
As he moved towards the door, her eyes widened. He’d called her Slayer. He hadn’t called her that since… She watched carefully as he let himself out, and she caught it. Just a slight smirk, a quirk of the lips. Oh, he was really going to get it.
- - - - - - -
Spike waited in the hall, listening for Buffy’s breathing to slow down, to become deep and regular. Ah, there it was. Now he’d just wait a bit more before waking her again. Then he heard it; first, it was soft, a sigh released, but it gradually become louder.
“Oh, yes. Yes. That feels soooo good.”
He couldn’t believe it. This time she was really saying it, really dreaming about it. Her breathy little moans were beginning to get to him as his jeans became a bit too tight.
“Oh, God. Just like that. Ohhh.”
Spike lowered his hand to his erection. He was as hard as a rock. It would’ve been lovely to unzip and have a nice wank, but if one of the little girls popped out of a room during it, he’d be dust for sure. What was he thinking? Buffy was in there, wanting it, wanting him. Maybe he could just go in, grab her, carry her downstairs to the fresh sheets on his cot, and they’d relieve both of their problems. He’d only taken a single stride towards her room, before he heard her again and stopped cold.
“Bloody hell!” Spike yelled at the top of his lungs.
Spike stilled. He could hear bodies in different rooms stir a little, then slowly go back to sleep. Idiots, the lot of them, he thought. They hear a shout in the middle of the night, but just pull the covers over their heads. As he started to descend the stairs, he heard a sound coming from Buffy’s room and he halted. It was a sound that he’d thought he’d never hear again. Buffy was giggling.
“Good night, Spike,” she answered quietly, amusement coating her words.
No doubt about it, Spike decided, as he continued on his way downstairs to his cot. He could try his best, but no one could be a little bit evil like his girl.
- - - - -
The next morning was everything he could hope for. The potentials squealed and refused to eat the Raisin Bran, Dawn was pouting with slightly frizzy hair, and the boy was whimpering, while he clutched the action figure to his chest. The Watcher had called to say that he was going to be delayed, and Spike would be surprised if Red didn’t get frostbite from the looks that Kennedy bird kept sending her. Yes, it was great being not quite evil.
Spike kept thinking that, right up until the moment that Xander smiled at him.
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