Good morning! This is my first time to participate in seasonal_spuffy. Thanks so much to enigmaticblues for hosting this wonderful group. I’ve enjoyed the stories and I’m glad to have a chance to contribute.
I have three small morsels to offer. I’ll space them out over the course of the day.
Title: Not Quite So Wrecked
Rating: PG-13 for implied nekkid
Timeline: scene re-write during Wrecked
Word count: 200
Disclaimer: Still not mine, alas.
Author’s Note: What if Spike had responded to the first thing Buffy said instead of the second?
“What’s the hurry, love?”
“The hurry is I left Dawn all night.” Buffy hopped into one boot, already searching for the other. “And don’t call me love.”
Spike stretched languorously. “Willow’s home, right?” He grinned, watching her hunt for her panties.
“I don’t know that. I didn’t plan on… oh God.” She cupped her hand over her mouth. “I don’t know if anyone was home with her.”
His languor gone, Spike scrambled into his jeans.
Buffy yanked on her shirt. “What are you doing?”
“Got to see the bit’s all right.” Shirt, boots. Sod the socks. “Plenty of demons in Sunnydale don’t need an invite to your house.”
She grimaced, dismissive. “Dawn isn’t your responsibility.”
“Hundred forty-seven days she was my responsibility.”
“You’re stuck here. The sun’s up.” Duh.
He shrugged his coat over his head, an inadequate blanket. “You ready to go?”
Buffy’s face was a mix of panic, regret and bewilderment. She met his eyes a moment, then looked away.
He tucked the words in his pocket with the scrap of lace. Two treasures.
“I still hate you.”
Spike smirked. “No you don’t. But feel free to say it.”
Together they charged up the splintered stairs.
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/398503.html