Fic: Spike’s a Good Boi, Chapter 5: Best Mates

Print Friendly, PDF & Email

Title: Spike’s a Good Boi
Author: Passion4Spike
Era/Season/Setting: Season 3, Band Candy, AU
Rating: PG (language)
Banners by: Paganbaby and Holi117
Author Note: This is the first chapter of the ROAD TRIP in this story (chapter 5 of the story overall). You can read the preceding chapters here on EF . If you don’t want to do that, you don’t need to! I’ve included a short setup summary at the start.

Set up Summary
  • After the battle with Angelus to close Acathla, Spike gave Joyce a puppy, feeling bad that Buffy had to ‘snuff her first love’, before leaving town with Dru.
  • Joyce named the dog ‘Spike’.
  • The small puppy grew into a large dog (and is still growing) which turned out to be a mystical Guardain of the Twilight — a dog bred for centuries by the Romani to battle demons and vampires in Transylvania. It’s turned into Buffy’s best friend and best slaying-buddy ever.
  • Six months after leaving town and promising not to return, Spike-the-vampire returns during Band Candy. Someone has kidnapped Dru and wants the dog back in exchange for the return of his sire.
  • After failing to steal the dog from Buffy, Spike makes another truce with her and she relucantly agrees to go with him to try and resuce Dru. Of course, Spike-the-dog is coming too.
  • Angel has returned from the Acathla hell dimensinon. Joyce knows of his return, but none of the Scoobies do. Spike-the-Dog and Angel do not get along … at all.
  • This picks up as Buffy and Spike are loading up the car, getting ready to go…
** X-X-X-X-X **

“What the bloody hell are ya doing, Slayer?” Spike asked as he came out of the house after sundown with yet another of Buffy’s ‘overnight’ bags. He was convinced this one had weapons in it, based on the weight and the tell-tale ‘clank’ every time he moved.

“Keeping myself from puking,” she replied as she ran the paint scraper over the windshield, removing another strip of black paint from it.

“Thought that was why ya made me clean out the soddin’ car. I need that on there! Vampire, remember?” he contended, setting the bag down near the open trunk and walking around to the passenger side where she was working.

“Yeah, well, I’m not riding in a car I can’t see out of, unless you want me carsick and puking all over you,” she explained.

“Anyone tell you what a royal pain in the arse you are?” Spike huffed, hands on hips as he watched her remove more of his ‘sunblock’.

“To my face? None that lived t’ tell about it. Anyone tell you what a big baby you are?” she wondered.

“None that lived t’ tell about it,” he countered. “Can only travel at night now, ya know that, yeah?” he pointed out.

“Oooor, I could drive, and you could hunker down in the back – better yet, you could ride in the trunk,” she offered brightly.

“No one drives my car but me!” he asserted.

“Willow drove it,” Buffy reminded him as she finished scraping of the last bits of paint she’d missed from the windshield.

“Don’t bloody remind me,” he sighed, looking from the long scrape along the front quarter-panel then up to the now-prone street sign at the end of the block.

“Don’t be such a baby,” she advised, turning to look at him. “We’ll just travel at night and sleep in the day. It’s only a couple of days, right?”

“A couple there, a couple back,” he corrected. “Plus, dunno if Dru is actually in that house or being kept elsewhere. Could be gone a week.”

“A week!?” Buffy exclaimed, looking horror-struck. “I need to pack more clothes!”

Spike grabbed her arm as she started past him. “Don’t have room for any more soddin’ clothes, Slayer. The trunk’s full of your bleedin’ clothes! And the backseat’ll be full of your hound and that cooler of blood you’ve so graciously provided. Bloody hell, Dru has trunks o’ dolls and enough velvet t’ start a Parisian brothel and doesn’t take up half the room you do!”

Buffy pulled free of his grip and walked around to the back of the car, noting that, with the final suitcase he’d brought out, it would probably take vampire and Slayer strength combined to get the enormous trunk to close.

“Did you get the snacks?” she asked then, looking through the various duffels and suitcases in the trunk.  “They were in a bag in the kitchen.”

“What do I look like, your soddin’ bellboy?” Spike grumbled.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’. It goes in the front, with me,” she informed him with a saccharine smile as she started scraping paint off the back window, too.

“Don’t tell me, Fido gets carsick as well,” Spike griped as he turned and headed back into the house, shoulders slumped in defeat.

** X-X-X-X-X **
Sitting by the door, Spike-the-dog growled at the vampire when he came back into the house to retrieve the snacks, baring fangs and throwing in a menacing snarl for good measure.

The vampire stopped in the foyer and looked down at the demon-hunter in exasperation, his hands going to his hips. “Look, mate, I’m playin’ nice, just following orders here, yeah? Slayer says t’ get the bag, I’m getting the soddin’ bag, aren’t I?”

The dog’s growl deepened, lowering to a sound that would barely register to a human, but sent a warning tingle down the vampire’s spine.

“Not scared of you,” Spike informed the dog, letting his demon rise and returning the low, rumbling growl.

The dog stood up and stepped forward toward the vampire, lips drawn back from his fangs, drool glistening, his dangerous, snarling growl vibrating the air.

The vampire matched it, taking a step forward and leaning down until the two growling males were within inches of each other, both projecting ‘danger’ warnings to the other.

The dog’s eyes flashed silver-blue, like lightning in a dark sky, and the vampire smirked, letting his growl fade as he stood back up straight. “Got a bit o’ demon in ya, eh? Bloody brilliant that. Don’t want anything t’ happen to your girl, do ya? Can respect that, mate. I just want to get my girl back, as well. Make ya a deal, then – I won’t let anything happen to your girl; you don’t let anything happen t’ mine.

“Whaddya say?” Spike asked, still in game-face as he reached out his right hand to shake on it.

The big dog narrowed his eyes, more sparks of silver-blue dancing in their depths, seeming to consider.  His gaze never left the golden glare of the demon before him, boring into them as if the Guardian could see inside the vampire.

Spike felt power radiate from the dog, sweeping over him like a wave of electricity, prickling his skin. He stood his ground, unflinching, his hand still extended, saffron eyes unwavering as he stared down the big, mystical animal.

Finally, the dog huffed out a breath, letting the growl die. He sat back on his haunches and raised his right paw for a shake.

“Brilliant!” Spike beamed, letting his human face surface as he took the dog’s snowshoe-sized paw and shook it heartily. “We’re gonna get on fine, Fido. Just bloody fine. Best mates!”

The dog growled again, that flash of blue showing in his brown eyes.

Spike rolled his eyes. “Fine … not Fido … Clifford, then?”

The dog shook his head vigorously, rattling his tags.

Spike sighed. “Can’t call ya Spike, it’s just too weird, mate. Scooby-Doo? Hellhound? Cerberus? Cujo?”

Spike barked and stood up, wagging his tail happily.

The vampire’s brows lifted. “You seen that movie? Hilarious, it was.”

Whoof!” Spike agreed, his mouth dropping open into a doggie-grin.

“Ya do know the dog dies at the end o’ that, yeah? The chit wins?” Spike reminded him.

The dog sneezed, then let his jaw drop open again, brown eyes meeting blue, panting lightly.

The vampire nodded knowingly. “I’d die for m’ girl, too,” he admitted, ruffling the dog’s floppy ears. “Yeah, we’re gonna get on brilliantly.”

** X-X-X-X-X **
“Buffy! What’s going on?!?” Angel demanded, emerging from around the side of her house just as she was finishing her de-painting of Spike’s windows.

Buffy spun around in shock, hiding the paint-scraper behind her back, her face flushing neon-pink even in the darkness. “I … what? Nothing! Things of no … are going on,” she stammered guiltily, looking and feeling very much like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar … and crumbs all over their face.

The big vampire’s brows went up suspiciously.

Buffy shook herself, regrouping, and reset back to her factory setting; she went on the offense. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in the mansion, out of sight!” she hissed, looking around to make sure none of her friends had materialized as well.

“I was feeling better, thought I’d come see you and apologize for being angry with the dog earlier,” he explained. “What are you doing with Spike’s car?”

“I … uh … well, you see …”

“Going on a romantic getaway, we are,” Spike answered from behind Angel as he came out of the house with not one, but two more bags – the snacks and another he’d found in her room that he’d missed earlier.

“Spike! Buffy! What the hell?” Angel demanded, looking from the vampire to the Slayer in turn, confusion freezing him in place.

Buffy gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes. “It’s just a mission,” she explained.

“With Spike?” Angel demanded, glowering at her. “What is it, a suicide mission?”

“Didn’t she tell ya, Peaches?” Spike asked bumping past his grandsire to stand next to Buffy, making Angel take a step to keep his balance. Spike draped an arm over her shoulders casually, smirking. “I’m all soul-having now … white-hat, jumpin’ in to save the world.”

Buffy elbowed him in the ribs, drawing a ‘whoof’ of pain from him, and stepped away from the blond, glaring daggers at him.

“You are not!” Angel asserted petulantly, narrowing his eyes at the blond.

Spike shrugged and put one of the bags on top of the others in the trunk. “No, I’m not, but still …” He spied a swath of fabric through the not-quite-closed zipper on the bag. He causally pulled out the bit of pink, frilly lace and held it up, displaying a pair of Buffy’s panties. “Someone’s gotta keep the Slayer happy, eh? Since clearly you aren’t the vampire for the job.”

Buffy snatched the lace from his hand and punched Spike in the nose. “You’re a pig, Spike!” she declared as he grabbed his nose and stumbled back a step. Buffy whirled around to face Angel. “It’s a long story, but it’s just a mission. I didn’t tell you because I knew …”

“You knew I wouldn’t let you go off with Spike?” Angel finished, scowling angrily, his eyes darting between her and his grand-childe, unsure which one he wanted to tear into more.

“Let her, is it? Gonna take that, pet? Who’s the bloody Slayer here, anyway?” Spike asked as he put his nose back in place, wincing.

“Shut up!” Buffy hissed over her shoulder at the blond before turning back to face Angel. “What do you mean ‘let me’? Since when do I need your permission to go on a mission?” she demanded, waving the panties around as she spoke before realizing what she was doing and stuffing them into her pocket.  “I’m the Slayer – I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions about missions!”

Spike snorted from behind her, drawing another angry glare from the Slayer over her shoulder.

“Buffy, it’s Spike. You can’t seriously think going anywhere with him is a good idea!” Angel reasoned.

“Oh, so, you’re questioning my judgement now? How about your judgement? Out in public, at my house, no less, where anyone could just show up at any time and stake you.”

“Like me, for instance,” Spike provided.

“I’m getting stronger, I’m not completely defenseless—”

Buffy stepped forward and pushed on Angel’s shoulder making him stumble backwards. His heel caught on the curb, and he fell flat on his back onto the sidewalk. “Yeah, tell me another one,” she droned, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring down at him.

“Ooo! Want a stake, luv? Reckon there’s one in this bag ‘ere,” Spike offered brightly.

Buffy rolled her eyes, ignoring the annoying blond. “Go home, Angel, before someone sees you. I’ll be back in a few days. You’ve got plenty of blood to last,” she told him.

He reached a hand toward her and she pulled him back to his feet. “I’ll go with you, then,” he asserted, shooting Spike a look meant to assert his dominance over the younger vampire.

“Sorry, mate, you’re not invited,” Spike piped up haughtily, ignoring the ‘do as I say’ vibe rolling off his grand-sire. Angel clearly wasn’t in any shape to take him down – for once – plus he clearly had the Slayer on his side. “Anyway, no room for a big lummox like you. The carriage is full.”

Angel’s glower darkened. Spike just smirked, tucking his thumbs over his belt buckle and squaring his shoulders smugly.

Buffy sighed. “I’ll be fine. You need to stay here, stay out of sight and get stronger. I’ll tell you about it when I get back.”

“Buffy…” Angel began, changing tact’s, now his voice pleading. “You need someone to watch your back.”

“Angel. Don’t. We’re bringing Spike … my Spike. He’ll watch my back. Anyway, do you really want to ride for days in a car with two Spikes who hate your guts?” she asked, arching a brow.

Angel rolled his eyes. “You were gonna go off and not even tell me?” he asked, sounding hurt and worried, trying to guilt her into taking him.

“I left you a note … it’s in your room,” she told him.

“Let me guess, it doesn’t say anything about Spike, does it?” Angel asked, shooting another glare over Buffy’s head at the smug blond standing by the car.

Buffy blew out a long breath. “No, because I knew you’d freak out, and honestly, I’m tired of everyone freaking out. I’m not twelve. I know what I’m doing.”

Just then, Spike-the-dog came out of the house, trotting down the walk toward them, an expanding rumble of a growl forming in his chest, eyes locked on Angel.

Angel took a wary step back from Buffy as the big dog sidled up against her, glaring at the dark vampire, a nearly sub-sonic growl vibrating the air. “Has Spike met Spike?”

“Yes. You’ll be happy to know blood was drawn … vampire blood,” Buffy confirmed.

Angel smirked and looked over at the blond vampire. “Hope you aren’t too fond of your shoes,” he called to his grand-childe. When all else fails, taunt.

The blond smirked back and made a low rumbling sound in his throat. The dog abruptly stopped growling and turned away from Angel, heading over to the vampire with whom he shared his name. Angel waited for the explosion, the attack, or at least the raised leg and golden shower, but none of that happened. Instead the dog nuzzled the vampire’s hand affectionately as Spike surreptitiously slipped him a small piece of beef jerky from his pocket.

“What the hell, Buffy?” Angel demanded, waving a hand at the two Spikes. “I thought you said it hated all vampires! Apparently, it just hates me.”

“What?” Buffy asked, confused, she turned to see the dog sitting down having his head rubbed by the blond. “What have you done to my dog?!?” she demanded, stalking over to them.

“Nothin’, luv. Just playing nice, as requested,” Spike defended. “Right smart one, this,” he continued, scratching the dog’s floppy ears. “Clearly knows the good guys from the bad, eh?”

Buffy sighed and shook her head, letting her eyes fall closed as she massaged the headache that was forming between her brows.

“Ready t’ go, then?” Spike asked, opening the back door for the dog to get in.

“Why not?” she sighed, opening her eyes and turning back to face Angel. “Go home, please? And stay there. I’ll be fine, and I’ll explain everything when I get back.”

“You can’t trust him!” Angel asserted, glaring at Spike.

Behind Buffy’s back, Spike curled his hands into claws, widened his eyes, and silently mouthed ‘Oooo!’ as he mocked attacking the Slayer. Angel’s eyes narrowed dangerously at him. Spike dropped the mime act and curled his tongue against his teeth, grinning wickedly.

Buffy sighed. “I’ll watch my back,” she assured him, making Spike choke out a laugh and Angel grit his teeth.

“I don’t like this, Buffy,” Angel informed her, drawing his eyes away from the annoying blond and back to meet hers.

“Yeah, well, welcome to the club.”

** X-X-X-X-X **
“Is this seriously all the music you have?” Buffy asked, looking through the worn cardboard box of much-abused cassettes as The Clash encouraged her to ‘Rock the Casbah’.

“Only music that matters, luv,” he sniffed, fishing in his pockets to find his smokes as they sailed out of Sunnydale on the dark, two-lane road.

“P-lease,” she groaned. “Where are my cassettes?”

“Left ‘em home where such indignities belong,” he informed her. “Boy bands my soddin’ arse.”

“Well, excuse me for not being two-hundred years old,” she griped, dropping the box back into the floorboard with a clatter.

“Not even a hundred-and-fifty,” he informed her. “Anyway, driver picks the music,” he said, pulling a cigarette out of the pack with his teeth.

“Who says?”

“Everybody knows that! Rule’s as old as Karl Benz,” Spike asserted, finding his Zippo and lighting his fag with a deep inhalation of soothing nicotine.


Spike arched a brow at her, clicking the lighter closed and slipping it back into his pocket. He took another drag on the cigarette before flicking the ash out the open window.  “Inventor of the automobile,” he clarified.

Buffy frowned. “Henry Ford invented the automobile.”

Spike barked out a laugh. “What the bloody hell they teachin’ you munchkins these days? Load o’ bollocks, that is. Ford my aching arsehole.”

Buffy’s scowl deepened. “Well, you do know the other road trip rule, right?”

Spike took another hit of nicotine, looking over at her. “What rule’s that?”

“Passenger picks the air quality,” she informed him brightly, plucking the cigarette from his lips and tossing it out the window. “There, that’s better, isn’t it?”

Spike glared at her long enough to make Buffy worry he’d crash the car, but finally turned his attention back to the road. His scowl did not diminish, however. “Pain in my soddin’ arse, you are,” he muttered.

Buffy grinned smugly, putting her feet up on the dashboard and leaning back in the seat. Rock the Casbah, indeed.

** X-X-X-X-X **
“Welcome to Burger King, may I take your order?” the bored voice came through the drive-thru speaker.

“Yeah, gimme four Whoppers. Plain. No rabbit food on them,” Spike began.


Spike looked in the rearview mirror at the dog who tilted his head to the side in interest. “Rrr-arf,” he half-barked, half-growled in reply.

“Yeah, with cheese. Two orders o’ onion rings and give me zesty as well as sweet and sour sauce with those. Oh, and a large Coke and a large water.

“Whaddya want, pet?” he asked, looking at Buffy.

Buffy’s brows went up. “You’re eating all that?”

Spike arched a brow at her. “Got a problem with m’ eating habits?”

Buffy shook her head in confusion and shrugged. “Uh, no … whatever. I’ll have, ummm … a chicken sandwich combo with Dr. Pepper.”

Woof,” the dog breathed, nuzzling his cold, wet nose against Spike’s neck.

Spike’s shoulders lifted in reflex, his head ducking, trying to protect his neck, as he swatted the dog away. “Alright, alright … bloody hell,” he groaned before turning back to speak into the sign.

“Cancel that Coke and give me two chicken sandwich combos with Dr. Pepper to go with that.”

The voice repeated the order back and gave him the total. “Second window, please,” it said finally, and Spike pulled forward.

Spike handed the girl a credit card and she began handing out sauces, straws, and napkins, which Spike handed to Buffy. Next came the two fountain drinks and the water, which he passed over.

“Where are the drink holders?” Buffy wondered, looking between them and then up at the dashboard for some hidden gizmo that she could pull out to put the drinks in.

Spike took one of the drinks from her hand. “Watch and learn, grasshopper,” he said, placing it between his jean-clad thighs and looking over at her smugly.

Buffy rolled her eyes and followed his example, settling the drink between her legs.

“Never been jealous of a fountain drink before, but reckon there’s a first time for everything, eh?” he asked, curling his tongue over his teeth before lifting his smoldering gaze from her lap to her eyes.


“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” Spike smirked and turned back to take the food from the girl and hand it over to Buffy.

“Impressive. From Kung Fu to Shakespeare in two seconds flat,” she deadpanned, taking the bags and rolling her eyes, but silently marveling at that a bit. Spike and Kung Fu? Okay, she could maybe see that, but Spike and Shakespeare? Of course, maybe when he was growing up that was the only thing on TV.

“Here’s your copy, Mr. Summers,” the girl said finally, handing the card and the receipt to him. “Thank you and come again.”

Buffy’s eyes went wide. She snatched the credit card out of his hand before he could even take his foot off the brake to move.

“You stole my mother’s credit card?! I can’t believe you!” she screeched at him, making the girl in the window look back at them.

Spike gave the girl a long-suffering smile. “Off her meds, she is. Tragic case,” he explained before pulling away from the window. He looked over at his companion, scowling. “Didn’t steal it! Gave it to me, didn’t she? Didn’t reckon you’d care for my usual policy of acquiring goods and services.”

“Which is?”

Spike pulled into a parking spot and looked over at her, brows raised, waiting for her to get it.

Buffy rolled her eyes and looked away, shaking her head. “Not paying…” she groaned. “I cannot believe that not only am I helping you get Dru back, but my mother is paying for it!”

“Think she said somethin’ about taking it out of your allowance,” Spike corrected her.

“Oh, of course! Even better! I’m paying for it!” she groused, starting to unload the food from the bags with undue force.  “Can my life get any more complete? A road trip with nothing but punk rock to listen to and a know-it-all, pig of a vampire who takes food orders from my dog. I assume this other chicken combo is for you?” she asked, looking back at the big dog.

“Whoof!” he agreed, drool slipping from his jaws as he eyed the delicious paper-wrapped smells she was sorting out.

“And two of the burgers,” Spike added. “Promised him earlier, didn’t I? For pissing on Angel’s shoes.”

Buffy shook her head in dismay. “If he gets gas, I’m totally making you sleep with him,” she threatened, breaking pieces off the chicken sandwich and handing back to the dog, who snapped them up with alacrity.

“No worries. Don’t have to breathe, do I?” Spike shrugged as he doused one order of onion rings in the zesty sauce and shoved one into his mouth whole, sauce dribbling from the corner of his lips down his chin.

“Something else you two have in common,” Buffy asserted as the dog slobbered on her fingers while grabbing the next bite of sandwich. “Table manners of a toddler being raised in a barn by wolves.”

“But we’re still pretty,” Spike smirked, wiping the sauce off his face with two fingers and sucking them between his lips enticingly.

Buffy swallowed hard and looked away from his smirking face. It was an effort to drag her eyes from the vision of his lips closing around those long, slender fingers, of how his cheeks sucked in, making his cheekbones stand out starkly, and the way his blue eyes danced in the dashboard lights.

“Pretty piggy,” she asserted after a moment, resuming her duty of feeding the sandwich to the dog, carefully keeping her eyes off the pretty vampire.

Spike chuckled wickedly as he pulled out of the parking space and back onto the road. Oh yes, the lady doth protest too much.

** X-X-X-X-X **

spikes a good boi holly adjusted.jpg


Thank you for reading! I hope you liked Doggie-Spike, Piggy-Spike, and Bitchy-Buffy and will come join them for the rest of the road trip on EF, AO3, or FF. There will be bonding, humor, and opening of minds (but not a declaration of undying love or any smut in this story — that will have to wait for future episodes of this series). The story is complete at 18 chapters and the remainder will be posted in quick order on those sites.

Thanks to my wonderful friends, PaganBaby and Holli117, for sharing their talents with me with their banners and by betaing this story. Any mistakes here are mine because I just can’t stop fiddling!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Joss owns all, I’m just playing in his sandbox.

Originally posted at