All About Spike - Plain Version
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Out on a Limb
By Jonesie
Rating:
NC -17
Pairing:
Spike/Buffy
When:
After Gone,
before Doublemeat Palace
Thumbnail:
Buffy and Spike
try to exorcize demons – personal and otherwise.
Category:
Self-contained story,
with a but could be first instalment of an ep
depending on feedback . It’s got a ‘have your cake and eat it’ ending that
allows for either option.
Disclaimer:
Characters are
the property of JW/ME et al. Sadly, no, I am not Al.
Thanks:
To Gargoyle and Caille, who gave me the original inspiration and who played
dominatrices par excellence during edits.
Buffy strained to see what had set him off. All she could make out was a glint of leather and
a flash of that familiar white hair, all fluffy…wait. Was there a hair gel shortage she hadn't
heard about?
“Guess their bite is
worse than I thought,” she said. So now,
he’s faking a demon attack? How pathetic is that.
Meanwhile, the hissing
kitten heaved all of its oddly substantial might into clawing at Spike’s head.
“Ow. Stop.” He tried
to grab it and it bit down on his hands. “Jesus! Hell! Get off me, you stupid git!”
Buffy stared as Spike flapped his arms around
his head at … nothing. He looks kinda like he’s swatting away at a hive of bees, she
thought, caught up in the spectacle.
Performance art, hellmouth style? Hey. Maybe he’s
finally gone insane.
Or
maybe… it couldn’t be true, could it? Invisible tree demons?
Just then, the kitten
let loose an enormous, “Meowwww.”
“Meow?” Buffy
repeated. He does have a kitten up there. I’ll
kill him. I. Will. Kill. Him.
Spike made a desperate grab and finally managed
to snatch the damned cat. He disentangled it from his hair and stuffed it into
his duster’s inside breast-pocket, clamping his fist round its jaws to stop it
meowing again.
“Not ‘meow’,” he said. “‘Me…. Ow.’ Demon bit me, and all you can do is make animal
sounds. Not very supportive, Slayer.”
“You’re right.” Lying creep.
“I am? … Right. I am.”
Hey. She’s buying it!
“It’s time I took up
my slayerly duties.” Should have slayed his … duties a gazillion
years ago.
Buffy scouted around
and grabbed a handful of large stones. “Where’s the evil tree demon now?” she
asked.
“Where…? Er…” Spike
made a show of looking about for it, staring up into the treetop, then at the
limbs all around. “Yes! There.” He pointed to a spot about two feet to his
left.
Buffy lobbed a stone
straight at Spike. Bulls-eye. Damn, I’m
good.
“Hey!” he protested.
“What’s that all about? Why are you chucking rocks at me?”
“Oops,” she said. “My
bad.”
“Who taught you to
throw, Ray Charles?”
“Aw. Did that hurt?” she
asked in her most innocent voice. “Did I hit Spikey
by mistake?”
“Mistake, my eye,” he
said. Right, then. Maybe she’s not buying
it.
“It’s crying time
again, Spikey.” She threw another stone. Direct hit.
“Yowch!
You’re skating on thin ice, missy.” Calm
down, Spike. You’re still one of the good guys for all she knows. I bloody well
hope. He continued, “And why you’d want to attack someone who’s trying to
help you – ”
“Whatcha gonna do, tree-demon slayer? Climb me to death?” Her eyes
popped open, horrified. Did I really say
that?
He flashed a
thousand-kilowatt smile. “Could give it a go.”
“No go!.. ing. Going, ” she blushed.. “And no climbing.”
She glanced at her hand and smiled. “Yes stoning.”
“Hey! Twenty-first century here,” he shouted.
“Not middle fucking ages.”
She hefted a particularly large stone, and went
into her wind-up. “Look out tree demon. Here
comes Buffy.”
“No, wait!” he
screeched. “Enough. I’m coming down.”
She relaxed. “Okey doke.”
Spike leapt from his perch in a single elegant
whoosh and landed softly at her feet. The way he moved took her breath away. Bad Buffy. Stop. Now.
“So, where’s the demon
now?” He still gonna
play ‘ pin the blame on the demon?’
“Um.” He peered up into the green-black canopy
of boughs, his brow furrowed as if deep in concentration. “There! – No. There –
… Well, blast. Blast? It’s gone now. Got clean away.”
She just stood there, arms folded over her
chest, narrowing her eyes at him.
Get
out while you’re still ahead, he thought. Or, at least, while you’ve still got a
head. “I’ll say goodnight now, Slayer.” He turned to go.
“Spike.”
Shite.
He turned back. “Yes?”
“Don’t you want to
tell me something first?”
He tilted his head in confusion. “Um? Right! You
scared off the demon. Saved my sorry ass. Many thanks. Bye.” Thank god, that’s done.
He turned again to go. Which the kitten took as
a call to action. It converted Spike’s pocket into a kickboxing studio, then
screamed at the top of its tiny lungs, “Meowww!”
“Me…Ow!” Spike covered
desperately.
Oh,
crap, he thought, remembering that the tree demon
had supposedly vanished, giving him no excuse to make kitten sounds. This is a nightmare. If she thinks I’m
still playing for puss— kittens, she’ll never let me touch her again. And
that’s after she kills me.
“Spike.” Suddenly she
was right there, putting a hand up to the pounding bulge on the left side of
his chest.
He felt slightly
dizzy, the way he always felt when she drew near. “Yeah,” he whispered.
“When’d ya get the breast implant?”
His eyes popped open
and he reared back, staring at her.
“Impl— what?”
“But, why’d you only do the left one? Some perverto vamp ritual? ‘Cause if it’s a lifestyle choice, boy,
am I embarrassed. Never figured you for trans, but hey, open-minded.”
Why doesn’t she just get to the point? Oh, right. She hasn’t
finished the torture.
“Silver
lining? At least they gave you a heartbeat,” she offered, as the kitten
continued to palpitate visibly.
Spike issued a long-suffering sigh, then sucked
in his cheeks and pushed out his lips in a stifled grin. He reached into his
duster and withdrew the now crazed and yowling kitten.
“Shut up, you,” he
growled at the kitten. Surprisingly, it did.
“Well. I’m busted,” he
said, giving her a dazzling grin. Might
as well relish the evil.
Buffy moved as if to
grab the kitten. Spike hiked his arm up out of reach.
“Let it go,” she
snapped.
“Forget it. Do you
know how valuable this furball is? Himalayans are
rarer than hens’ teeth.”
“I don’t care, I – wait, please tell me that’s
just an expression, and you’re not playing for barnyard animals now.”
His grin broadened. “Picturing cock fights, are
we?” He slid towards her all sinew and rhythm.
“All them cocks,” he drew the last word out and bit his lower lip
seductively. “Excited… Jumping about… Throbbing with anticipation.”
It wasn’t her anger that upset her. No, it was
her growing excitement. “Stop it,” she shrilled. “I will have no cocks.” She
turned crimson. “Fighting … cocks fighting. Fighting of cocks. None.”
“All right, love. How do you like ‘em,
then?”
How did he suddenly get the upper hand?
She was furious.
“Shut up.”
“Shut me up.”
“You said you didn’t want me if you couldn’t have
all of me. Change your mind, integrity-boy? Or isn’t the tree demon the only
one whose bark is worse than – ”
He grabbed her to him
and kissed her.
She pulled away. “I
don’t want…”
“What?” he whispered, stroking her face gently
with his fingertips. He looked into her eyes, for something, anything.
“You,” she said. “Don’t want you.” She turned
her eyes away from his gaze, but let him go on stroking her face. Then, still
looking away, she took his hand in hers, and gently kissed his palm. “You,” she
moaned, softly. “I want you.”
“I know, love.” He turned her head so she had to
face him. He looked into her eyes. He saw … something. Not love, but something.
They let their bodies
drop to the grass as they kissed.
She pulled back from
him. “This doesn’t change anything.”
“No,” he said.
And then they lost the
parts of themselves they could still afford to lose.
* * *
Meanwhile, the escaped and
now forgotten Himalayan kitten paused by a large stone angel, looking
back. Moonlight, or shadow, a trick of
the light…a Cheshire grin flashed briefly, and then with a shimmer, it was
gone.