Title: Buffy and the Beast
Pairing: Spike/Buffy, eventually
Rating: PG at the moment; will eventually be NC-17
Disclaimer: The usual–I don’t own them, Joss does, blah-de-blah blah blah…
Author’s note: In this ‘verse, Spike was never paralyzed by Buffy, although they did fight in the church. Drusilla was cured, Angelus did emerge, but Acathla was not found… however, Giles was kidnapped, for reasons yet to be revealed.
Buffy and the Beast Chapter 2
Buffy and the Beast
Buffy stared at the audacity of the vampire’s request, her mouth gaping like a fish’s. “What are you talking about?”
He really didn’t have a clue. He had planned on having her assist him in staking Angelus, then allowing him and Drusilla to escape. That was what he thought he wanted, at least until those words had leaped from his mouth. “You heard me right, Slayer. I help you stake Angelus and save Watcher Boy, and you let Drusilla leave the country. How hard is that?”
“The other part. The part of you wanting me to…what, exactly, Spike?” Suspicion tensed her entire body from head to toe and she almost trembled trying to keep herself from lashing out. “You said something about me.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a fair trade, innit? You for Dru and the Watcher.” He lit another cigarette, the smoke creating both a halo and a shield from her penetrating look. He examined her closely, from the top of her blond curls to the tips of her fashionable boots. She was trim and lithe, at the peak of fighting condition. His enhanced vision took in the muscles, tensed and ready for action, but her skin grabbed his attention. Even in the dim alley, with only the silver of the moonlight to light her, she was golden. Golden hair, peachy golden skin, eyes like good whiskey in a crystal glass; she was perfection in a single package.
She stalked toward him, anger vibrating her entire body. “Fair trade, huh? And what do I get out of the bargain?”
“Easy, Slayer. I won’t kill you. I won’t even turn you. I’ll let you live, just as you are, only with me.”
She considered his words for a moment. He could see the play of emotions on her face, the careful consideration that she put into his offer before she spoke. “There has to be an iron-clad agreement here, or the answer is no. No turning me.”
“No staking me.”
“Okay, fair’s fair. No abuse, no beatings, no rape.”
He grinned, self assured and cocky. “Darlin’, if I nail you, it won’t be rape. Can’t rape the willing, can ya now?”
She grimaced. “I will never want you, Spike. Never.” Her eyes narrowed as another possibility crossed her mind. “You aren’t doing this for nefarious reasons, are you?”
“Evil, love—vampire, remember? I only operate on nefarious, Slayer. To which nefarious possibility are you referring?”
She put her finger on her temple. “Hmm, let me see. Oh, I know this one. Wait until I’m comfortable, then kill me. Right?”
“I just told you I didn’t want you dead, Slayer. Want you alive and breathing.”
He couldn’t help his sigh. “See, now you’ve taken all the fun out of it, ya know? No biting. What am I supposed to do with you now?”
“You’ll think of something. Probably something disgusting.” A thought crossed her mind. “You have to let me patrol.”
“What? And let you kill my minions? I don’t think so, missy. Patrol is out.”
“In case you missed it, vampire, we live on a Hellmouth. Not just vampires here, but other beasties as well. So if I don’t patrol, Sunnydale gets overrun with ghoulies and you end up being the master of a ghost town.”
He thought about it and realized the rightness of what she was saying and knew he would have to allow her to patrol, despite his better instincts. “We’ll see,” he replied, not wanting to admit she was right.
She knew she scored, however and pressed her advantage. “And it can only be for the summer. I have to go to school, you know.” She could tell by the look on his face that he hadn’t expected that demand. He looked gobsmacked by her statement and it was on his lips to refuse, but knew that it would break their tentative truce.
“For the summer, then. From the time we kill Angelus to your first day of school. Agreed?”
She considered, then capitulated. “Agreed. You help me, I help you, and you get to hold me hostage for the summer. Is that about it?”
“Yeah, I think so.” He thought of all that she’d left out—all the lovely, delicious things that he could do to make her scream—and found them wanting somehow. He scoffed internally at the romantic notions his silly Willy side thought of, and smacked the wanker in the head. Goddamn internal poet—he never could rid himself of that little berk.
Clamping down on the thoughts that thoroughly disgusted him, he took a bottle of whiskey out of his pocket and offered it to her. She grimaced, then took the gesture at its worth, drinking a mouthful directly from the bottle, then twisting her face in a moue of disgust. He repeated the action, then capped the bottle and stowed it back in the voluminous pocket of his duster, grinning widely. “When, then. We have to have an airtight plan.”
“You don’t breathe. You don’t need air.”
He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean, Slayer. We have to have a plan; we can’t just go in with fists, fangs, and stakes blazing. How are we going to get you inside to do any good?”
She thought, then started looking both sad and angry. “I’m afraid that we’ll have to ask for help.”
Chapter 1 can be found HERE
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/119439.html