Fic: The Spuffy, the Witch, and the Utility Shed [1/11]

This entry is part 4 of 12 in the series The Spuffy, the Witch, and the Utility Shed
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Title: The Spuffy, the Witch, and the Utility Shed
Author: bewildered
Era: BTVS between s3 & s4
Rating: NC-17 eventually
Summary: When Buffy encounters Spike at her college orientation, the last thing she expects is to be hurtled with him into a demon dimension. Now they must battle together against hordes of unnatural creatures, talking beavers, and… is that a lion?

AU set between seasons 3 and 4. Don’t let the hints of plot fool you, this is mostly just an excuse for some smut. Well, smut and mayhem; it is Spuffy.

With deepest, most heartfelt apologies to C.S. Lewis for the mutilation of his characters and bits of his dialogue.

Warnings: NC-17 for violence and sex. (As of initial posting, 5/15, the smut is still Future Smut, but is on the way soon!) Lots and lots of beloved childhood character death. Sorry!

Thanks to the_moonmoth, who inspired this fic by sending me fic prompts and then egging me on as I got sillier and sillier, and then beta-reading at the very last minute. I am the luckiest ever.

Click for a chapter index!

Chapter 1: Into the Forest

One second Buffy was braced up against the door of the dim storage shed, wondering if the next blow would be the one to shatter the splintering wood, and the next she was falling, falling into brightness. It was a long fall, but somehow light, like she was a feather wafting to earth, and as she fell she could feel things brushing past her bare arms – at first it felt silky-soft, like plush fur, but as she fell the sensation changed, got rougher and somehow prickly, and as the light grew brighter and brighter she could see flashes of deep green, and a pungent smell filled the air about her, like Pine Sol, except somehow not as chemical, and just when she realized the green flashes were tree branches and the smell was in all probability actual, non-chemical pine needles, she landed and found she was standing in the middle of a wood, with snow under her feet and snowflakes drifting about her, the sun shining thinly down through hazy clouds. She lifted her hands to the flakes in a moment of shocked wonder, before reality came crashing down like a block of ice.

Holy crap, it was cold!

“Bloody hell!”

She spun to see Spike frantically tugging the collar of his duster up over his head, diving for the shade of the trees, and fury bubbled up inside her. She didn’t know what had happened between them teaming up to fight off the slime demon from hell and this, or where they were, or what was going on, but she was very certain that it was completely, utterly, one-hundred percent Spike’s fault.

“What did you do?” she growled at him, snowflake-dotted hands balling into fists for about three seconds before she decided that punching Spike was a slightly lower priority than staying warm, and wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her exposed skin desperately.

Spike ignored her, peeking cautiously out from the shadow of the leather. “Why’m I not on fire?” he asked hesitantly.

“Really? That’s your first problem with this situation? Not the snow or the trees or the cold or the fact that we’re not in the stupid storage shed expecting imminent death anymore?”

Spike held his hand out into the sunlight, watching it nervously. “Fuck off, Slayer. Pretty sure immolation counts as the priority here.” He wiggled his fingers in the diffuse light “Huh. The sunlight doesn’t burn.” He tugged his duster back down, settling it around his shoulders.

Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. “Spike, do you feel the cold?”

“Not a lick,” he said absently, scanning the trees.

Buffy stomped over to him. “Give. Me. The. Coat.”

Spike glared at her, tugging the lapels closer around his body. “Fuck. Off. You can bloody well freeze to death for all I care.”

Buffy sighed, her voice shaking from the cold. “Spike, we are in an unknown place – probably a demon dimension, if the sun doesn’t burn you – with hardly any weapons, no food, and no idea how we’re going to get back. I am fairly certain we’re going to have to work together if we’re going to survive.”

Spike snickered. “Lovely speech, Slayer. But what you’re really saying is, you need my coat.” He brushed snowflakes ostentatiously off the leather cuffs. “I don’t need bugger-all from you.”

Buffy rubbed her arms harder. “Spike. I swear, I’m gonna…”

“Stake me?” He grinned evilly. “Dust me and the coat’s dust too. I thought we were going to work together.”

“Fine!” Buffy shouted, stomping her foot in the crunchy snow – thank god she’d at least been wearing boots and jeans! “Keep your stupid coat! I’ll just have to stay warm by beating you up!”

She launched a punch, but the cold was already slowing her down, and Spike danced easily out of reach. “Sorry, Slayer. Think I have an elsewhere to be. I’ll come back later, have me a Slayer-sicle.” He whirled and ran off into the forest, and was gone.

Buffy’s nose was starting to run; she sniffled, curling closer around herself. Why why why hadn’t she worn some layers to orientation? Sure, Sunnydale was always nice and warm in the summer, but she should have planned for the ungodly sight of Spike trying to pick up Harmony, random slime monster attacks, and getting sucked into a demon winter dimension. Crap like that always happened to her. She needed to be prepared next time. She sniffled again. This sucked.

From the corner of her eye she caught faint movement at the top of the trees, and she squinted. Was that… smoke?

Smoke meant fire and fire meant warm, and without even thinking her feet started in the direction of that tiny smudge of grey, not even caring that it was in the opposite direction from Spike.

She was just so cold.

Go on to Chapter 2!


Originally posted at

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